Whipped Cream...

I'd bake fancy cream cakes for us and we'd sit on the river bank on a checkered cloth, red and white checks, and I don't know what else we'd do, but maybe we'd read the latest cake recipes and we'd argue about the proportions. I like more butter in my cake. You'd talk about precision. Mmm...I'd like that, arguing with you. And we'd eat cake once the sun would rise high above our heads. And we'd spend the whole afternoon licking the cream off each other's fingers. And then when the sun would dip lower in the sky, maybe we'd take a swim in the river. No, maybe you should take a swim and I'll watch, watch the water flow over your body. Yes, I would like watching you very much. Maybe you could convince me to join you too, but only after I have watched you enough. Should we head back home now? I think I would be a bit tired after all. Oh yes, ginger tea would be just what I would need. And maybe we'd end the day by baking some more cakes. Yes, I think I would like that. It would be our perfect cake day.

Don't Go Changing...

Flying Beneath the Birds...

One drop of courage, that's it, and the story would have been different.

You're a fool. The biggest ever.

Love,
A

"The Yellow Sundress"

This just made my birthday special. Thank you Divya! :)
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To A, for her birthday, for 26 years of amazing existence and here is to more amazing moments in life! --Divya 

"The Yellow Sundress"

I met her through a common saint

we both know very well,

too small for 24 then, and still tiny for 26 now,

she spoke of wild roses and scottish highlands

and her love for shoes and men.

She writes the way she speaks

of imprinted emotions, engraved gestures,

strange ways of love and lovers,

the joy of flight, the struggle of fight

the chime of beautiful little dreams,

what I read was familiar,

what I felt was similar.

Is it possible that we might have

shared a common existence in

the yesteryears of fate and destiny?

Perhaps, tucked away in history’s archives,

we were friends, sisters, daughters or

deadly sins from the Holy Testament?

Our tales and battles

of heartbreak and struggles

of longing, lingering ambitions

Vulnerable children of heaven

Both strong, determined and women

of this century of modernity.

We’ve clashed like armies

in the battlefield of perspectives

yet I feel and I know you are the

sweetest product of serendipity

and if all words fail to describe

your essence and presence

in this world of utter chaos,

Your portrait in the museum of living will

be that of adorned tresses,

with lilies from the valley, a sweet scent

of frangipani emanating from the

nape of your neck, and I see you

immersed in your favourite book,

lost in the warmth of a cup of tea

and the stunning, brilliant vision of

sun rays entering your heart of hearts

and the whole wide world celebrating-You. 


For what you are and for what you will be.

And watching you- smile, radiantly,

with the the crown of joy

firmly on your head- in

what only you can wear best

- the yellow sundress.

From An Old Little Read Book...

How do I begin this? 44 years back I would not hesitate. Words would flow freely and emotions would tumble out readily. They were uncontrollable infact. But these days, emotions peek out from their closet first, look around and if they find everything to their liking, they make an appearance, otherwise, they lie in the darkness, dormant.


I am old now. My white hair will tell you that. I am proud of them infact. At my age, having a head full of hair is indeed a lucky thing. I feel lucky to be writing this too. But yes, I am old now. I never thought I would be writing this one day. Today.


She called today. I spoke to her after ages. We talked about the old times, the young times, the uncertain times, the times of much anticipation and possibility. The times when we were standing on the threshold, waiting but impatient, eager, wanting to jump over, run, move to the next phase of our lives. There was such excitement and mystery in those days. There were fears too, but there was also this immense hope that things will turn out okay 20, 30, 40 years later. We talked about all those hopes we had. All those dreams we had weaved. She's moving closer to me. I am happy. We will talk about old times and feel close again. We will have our lunches in the sun and watch our grandchildren play in front of us and we will feel blessed.


You know, looking back, we didn't realise what we had. We had our youth. We were young and restless. We wanted the world for us. Everything was possible. 'Cause we had nothing, we could have everything.


We are here she said. Yes, I told her. Did you dream about this day? No, I did not, I said.


No one dreams of being old you know. At 26, you dream of different things. Being old is not one of them. Old age seemed so far away at 26. Like a whole another world. 26 seems like a whole another world to me now. I look back at those young days and feel an immense sense of loss. An immense sense of sadness for the young girl that I was. I don't know why. Maybe it's the thing we all feel at this point in life. Maybe.


As a 26 year old woman I once wondered what old people dream about. At 26, she had her whole life ahead of her, her dreams could be bold, anything was possible for her. She was young.


Dreams are ever-evolving; this is what I have realised over the years. They are constantly changing. As a little girl I dreamed of having a fabulous career, as a woman my dreams were of having a wonderful family. A loving life-partner, smart happy kids, good friends, a good life. As an old woman, my dreams are different. I don't dream of conquering the world anymore. I dream of conquering the staircase now. So yes, I do dream too. But my dreams are bolder. And yes, I do hope for magical things, for anything to be possible. The quality of dreams doesn't change, just the content. At my age, I dream of seeing my children happy. I dream of sitting on the porch with him in the evenings and having our conversations, our never-ending conversations, for many many years to come. I dream of walking to my granddaughter's graduation ceremony. Of seeing her glow with youth and happiness. I dream of seeing her dreaming. I dream of telling her to dream her biggest, most impossible dreams and I dream of seeing her most audacious dreams come true. I dream of meeting my dear friends and having a good laugh about the old times. I dream of cooking my favourite food and having a house full of happy people, sharing their lives over a good meal. I dream of warm winters and cozy monsoons and bright summers. I dream of seeing a colourful garden in the backyard and feeling the same sense of possibility I felt 40 years back when I stood on top of one of the highest mountains on earth. I dream of living a few more years. That's bold now. Isn't it?


I know what you want to ask me. Did I get everything I wanted? Did I see all my dreams come true? The ones I dreamt 20, 30, 40 years back? Did I compromise?


What I will instead tell you, is that I found what I was looking for, looking all my life. I found it. And some more.


Mmmm...I love this time of year. There slight chill in the air and the aroma of a nice baked cake. And looks like someone's put on a kettle of my favourite tea. We humans don't satisfy easily, do we? But that's what keeps us going. I think I am going to dream of having that chocolate cake now. Oh yes, a chocolate cake! How does a lady celebrate her 70th birthday after all?

The Only Girl...

A Plan...

I am going to opt for court marriage, if I get married. Really. All this commotion and confusion and planning and coordinating is enough to drive the sanest of them mad. I don't know how the bride and groom are holding up. I'd just run away and get married. I'd like that infact. A Quiet ceremony. Just the dearest friends in attendance and then a dinner somewhere nice. Perfect.