Life is moving so fast………………

 

Life is moving so fast

And no time to regret the past

I don’t define my world in black and white

I have a rainbow to see and delight

And a colorful butterfly so bright.

 

Life is moving so fast

And no time to regret the past.

I am still so young and gay

I have an absurd game to play

And smell an amazing may.

 

Life is moving so fast

And no time to regret the past

I am still an alien to speak

I have a soulful friend to make

And see my loneliness break

 

Life is moving so fast

And no time to regret the past

I am still an immature speech

I have a mighty goal to reach

With a talent, unique to each

 

Life is moving so fast

And no time to regret the past

I am still an innocent kid

I wish to play in mud

And drench in rain, so good.

 

Life is moving so fast

And no time to regret the past

I am still stuck in a station

I have to reach a destination

And stand to my expectation.

 

Life is moving so fast

And no time to regret the past

I am still a caterpillar near the lake

I have a big cocoon to crack

And fly with wings on my back.

 

Life is moving so fast

And no time to regret the past

I am still so slow to go

I have a tiny seed to sow

And witness a giant tree to grow

 

Life is moving so fast

And no time to regret the past

I am still a dreamer in June

I have a boon to hum a tune

And feel the dust on moon.

 

Life is moving so fast

And no time to regret the past

I am still so healthy to cease

I have a desire to end in peace

And happily leave my body with ease.

 

 

 

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DIARY OF MISS IMPERFECT!

FIRST PAGE

 

“I’m Perfect” Oops! I mean Imperfect.

 

This world never had any time to empathize the reasons behind incarnations of my imperfections and it would never have any. I know, I am not good at others expectations of me. But I have my ground and I do not solicit the world’s agreement on this. Masses in and around me has got a mammoth listing of adjectives warranting my imperfections in their own way. Few of the many adjectives often invested for me are IMPOLITE, IMPATIENT, IMPOSSIBLE, IMMATURE, IMBALANCED, IMPROPER….bla bla bla.

If I sit back and review my distinctive day  then it simply appears like this…

 

 I unremarkably get up at any time in between 7.00 am and 9.00 am. The instant I wake up, I go straight down to my mom’s kitchen. Yes, it is hers………as I bear no role to play there. The path between my bedroom and my mom’s kitchen is dented by my granny’s room. There was never ever any day where I arrested any luck to fly the coop; especially my granny’s penetrating eyes. I go, look at her, she reciprocates and remarks IMPOLITE girl. She requires me to wish her GOOD MORNING and  that’s the argue at the backside of her comment. 

 

 I make my way into kitchen to snap up a cup of coffee.  I go along requesting for my casual dose of coffee and mom seems overly engaged, readying breakfast for the rest since 4.30 am. I ask for coffee and she screams IMPATIENT. I ask once again and she cries IMPOSSIBLE. You see, my mom is so benevolent. She affords me TWO adjectives for one mug of coffee. More often than not, I find my dad trying out his noesis about weird gizmos. He expends a big ratio of his morning time fixing up things. A midst all my liberally given personifications, I have a genial heart and I extend complimentary assistance to all. I say, “dad, need any help?” He answers, “nope dear. I am all fine.” Till this point, I feel good and the succeeding adjective narks me a lot. He sums up, “you are IMMATURE to deal with my dealings.” I walk uninfluenced, not learning how to react. I guess, I should take to heart only when I veritably consent with what they say.

 

Anyway, I gear up to my college, where a bunch of my unlike friends wait for me at the gate. They feel that my behavior is ill-timed.  According to them, I laugh when I am expected to turn up a grave face. Yes, I laugh too much because I feel happiness is life and I see the life silently laughing tickling my funny bone.  Not more than ten feet I displace, they echo “she is IMBALANCED.”  

In the Science lab, my teacher asks me to draw some shapeless creatures and label them. For example, an amoeba, a formless protozoan. I draw an amoeba and she says, the diagram is IMPROPER. Blooming heck! She says there is no definite shape to it and how the heck it matters if I draw any form.  Perhaps, she meant creating new form of amoeba………..a kind of evolved amoeba with a definite form.

 

I return home………….everything repeats, just  with a svelte edition. Granny anticipates an evening wish instead of a morning one and I beg for a cup of tea instead of a mug of coffee. The remaining time finishes in my room; precisely, inside me. Every night, I  feel………….. I am a big hoo-hah. Perhaps, heart of heart, I wish masses to cognize the things beyond their perception. I feel  my mom has time for everyone. She is speedy at doing others’ things except mine because  OTHERS demand a good deal of her time. I never exacted to be her priority any time. I unremittingly prayed for my morning coffee and was invariably the final to ask for my evening tea. Given a moment, I feel my mom takes my conforming nature for granted. I also feel, may be, I am the only person with whom she can be little easy with.

 

I am barmy being greeted by OTHERS. Every time, I be the first to wish a guest, friend, neighbor, teacher, headmaster, anyone for instance. I do not mind greeting my granny but in the deep pit of my heart, I pray others to greet me before I do. 

Witnessing my dad  dissecting the gadgets, as part of his morning ritual, I expect him to count on me and accept my service. I cry out to prove that I may not be that wise like him but I am mature enough to help my part. I guess, not holding yourself back when you see others breaking their heads is a sign of maturity.

 

I love all my friends and I wish they understand the way I feel about things and situations. After all, life is not  about being serious all the while. I pray, they accept me with all my imbalances of  which they whisper at my back.

I respect my science teacher sincerely. She never called me IMPROPER. By improper, she meant the diagram not me. I am so habituated being tagged with words starting specifically with “IM” that I end up taking the remark too personally. When the rest of all tags are categorized in one where should I put the only one meant for my diagrams? So I resign without googling for another category.

                                                                                                                                                                                                PTO.

A NOTE ON THE BOOKMARK:

Oh! I deliberately left the rest of the pages until the last but one page blank because there is absolutely nothing to pen down. Just  Ctrl+c and Ctrl+v needed. Do mind to witness the date changing on every page. 

 

LAST PAGE OF THE DIARY:

A year passed and new tags used in my honor pooled up and the list started fattening. Whatever the tags be, they all meant ‘imperfections of mine’. At this point of nothingness in my life, there descended a special friend.  This friend on a peculiar day, obviously my birthday, read my diary. A day before my birthday, I earnestly prayed for someone to edit my life’s story in my diary. This friend was the first to even out the handsomest blunders ever in the literature of my life. The first line in the diary was a total catastrophe.  My friend counterbalanced the opening sentence and the remainder of lines got switched automatically. The structure was corrected and  the whole story got a new definition and a renewed dimension. The friend executed a very fiddling job but the result was magnificent. It was just about restructuring IMPERFECT to I’M PERFECT. All the IMs were exchanged to I’Ms. Find and replace did a commendable job in my story. It was amazing to witness the result of this command. The adjectives read from Impolite to I’m polite; Impatient to I’m patient; Impossible to I’m possible; Immature to I’m mature; Imbalanced to I’m balanced and so on………

I guess, the first line was no accident. Connecting all the dots surfaced so far, I feel, I wished for someone to  change ‘I am Imperfect’ to ‘I’m perfect.’ May be it was a little business to remove  A between I and M……. put ”  ‘  ” after I . Or its just that I prayed for someone to recognize this  deliberate error of my subconscious mind. 

 

Guessing who is that special friend of mine? Just look into the mirror and you will find yours. It is a waste of precious time yearning for someone special to change your life for good. There is no one as special as you are and as unique as you are and as gifted as you are. No one, ever walked on this earth, can replace YOU. It is YOUR life and only YOU have the unlimited potential to mess or mend your life.

 

THE LAST LINE:

 Imperfect! Oops. I mean, I’m Perfect.

I guess, punctuation is damn important.

My Mom’s womb- My God chosen home. PART-II

 I could hardly sleep for an hour and was tired of thinking a good deal. On the spur of the moment, there was a loud knock on the door. The nurse came up with a tray full of DNS bottles, injections, tablets, BP machine, etc. My mom screamed out loud in pain at the slightest prick of a needle.  I was trembling all over knowing not what made her scream. Later, my mom took me near and exclaimed in a soft voice…………I am not able to take even the slightest of pain. At the moment, I felt I should bring down heaven so that my mom would not have any kind of pain in her life. At the back of my mind, some irrational emotional calculation was going on. Some chattering……my mom delivered three of the normal way, enduring so much of pain then and today she could not even bear the prick of an injection needle. How weak and sensitive she has grown…….I was speechless to answer or say some encouraging words to her. Then there stood a nurse with a surgery gown and a wheel chair.

By then, my younger sister came. She looked very pale and could not say anything. Both of us helped my mom get dressed up in that gown. She looked further weak in that. Both of we sisters smiled and ushered my mom that she is going to be healthy and normal once again. It was like a mother knowing that it’s going to be painful for her child to go through all that but she has no option elsewise. For a moment, I was playing a mother to my mom. Finally, we reached the OT where the exact tailoring of bodies takes place. That’s the place where bodies are cut and sewn like fabrics. The only peculiarity is in this boutique room, the tailor (doctor) cuts as per his knowledge about measurements and your taste and choice has no role.  For the first time in life, I could see the OT so close. It was dominantly made of steel. Everything inside was cold. The sliding doors of the OT were damn solid and hard hearted. It has shut down the boldest voices of the world. The nurse advised one of us to stay with my mom inside the front section of the OT, where the family person limit ends.

 My mother was totally armoured to fight her worst fears …. her worst battle. At that moment, I requested God sternly and sincerely. I just prayed ” God, you may be damn busy and you may be having too many priorities but today, I want you to leave all those and come to my mom as she needs you more than anyone in this world now.” With the equal naïve and innocence, I prayed and convinced myself that it is done. God was standing beside my mom holding her hands and ushering comfort and peace. I was dwelling in this feeling and suddenly, my mom drifted her hand away from me. I was time for the surgery. Everything inside the OT was set. The table was ready, doctors were ready but my heart and mind………. My mom was not ready to leave me. I stared at her helplessly. She turned to me and stared at me until my vision in her eyes got blurred. That look has many perspectives, it evoked many questions. It unveiled many truths. The first feeling I had about that look was very saddening…….. she looked at me so deeply and dearly as if she was not going to see me again……… as if she was done with her life. This emotion was so strong that my mind dint attend to think of other reasons behind her dead look. The doors were closed and everything got shut down. No mind, no thoughts, no heart, no feelings.

Few tedious hours passed and my mom was wheeled out of the OT. She was there in all her peace but something was missing………. Damn! her uterus was missing. Its gone forever. There, standing in my worst moments of life, I realized that my mom’s womb, where I first breathed my life…….is gone. ….How bizarre to learn that mother’s womb is the first place, our first house where we start our life. My God chosen house, my first home…….my mom’s womb. Indeed, it was the priceless home I ever had in my life.

 

My Mom’s womb- My God chosen home. PART-I

“October 31st 2013” was very queasy for me and my family. I woke up very early than usual with a restless heart and mind. There was an on-going squabble between my mind and heart. My mind detested my heart for being so faint and sore and my heart hated my mind for being so numb and out rightly hard-nosed. For hours, I was witnessing my non-existence. My mom and I were mimicking each other’s fears, restlessness, anxiety and a strange unknown emotion. Usually, I and my mom have our breakfast together but that unusual day, she finished her breakfast all alone. I did not know….whether she was trying to be normal by being abnormal or was she convincing me of her being OK. Very often, I and my mom were switching over glances without speaking a word. There was an indescribable and haunting muteness in the house.

 My mom was holding her mobile as if she was waiting for someone’s call or message. I observed her for long hours……. Unable to contain my curiosity, I interrupted, ‘are you expecting some news?’ She smiled faintly and said, “Medical Insurance Approval”.  Neither could I challenge to see the nameless fright in my mom’s eyes nor could I exhibit the tears in my eyes in front of her. The whole cosmos did not exist for us……….it was just me, my mom and the uncommon anxiety common to both of us. All the negativities in the world swamped us. The air was very rude and heavy, gagging us very often. My mom was staring at her mobile screen as if it was a ticking time bomb ready to blow up anytime. Suddenly, the message tone deafened our mind and heart rather than our ears. My mom saw the message and smiled looking at me. I asked the reason for her amusement. She plainly said, “a message from AIRTEL (a mobile network in India)” She repeatedly received such messages one after the other. She was sick of anticipating insurance approval and finally got off her mobile. She attempted to absorb herself in the kitchen. Few minutes of dead silence and another message. I informed her of the new text on her mobile but she mistook it as a promotional message. Sometimes, right things happen when we expect them at least. Going with this school of thought, I read the message and to my surprise, it was the approval from medical insurance company.  My mom reflected mixed emotions. She was happy for the end of awaiting but at the same time, the closure of one anxiety opened up the door for another anxiety. She was advised hysterectomy by the doctor. The fear of surgery and its consequences gripped her totally. I called up the doctor to inform about the insurance approval and she advised me to hospitalize my mom straight off. It was uncanny to notice that my mom already bundled up the things she would need during her stay in the hospital. It came along as if someone is prepared for the battle of life and death.

I grappled to take her to the hospital all alone, which was the most emotional and daunting go through ever in my life. Throughout the journey to hospital, we dint speak to each other. It was neither reluctance nor disinterest…….it was pain, which none of us wanted to give each other. No sooner was I done with her admission formalities, a nurse took my mom to a separate room. I looked at my mom being taken away from me …….and I was standing there all alone, pressing her medical reports closely to my chest. Having no shoulder to lean on in despair and having no one to pass on words of strength made me grow feeble. My mom was given some injections, her blood pressure was checked, and her ECG was taken followed by other unknown tests.  She was sensitive to the physical pain but too insensitive to her emotional pain. After few hours, an elderly doctor ushered me to his room and hashed out the risks involved and the chances of successful surgery. Based on my mom’s vital parameters’, in all his frigidness, he called out “High Risk Surgery”. My voice choked, I croaked inside me. Those words carted me into the far past where I lost my father. My father had died of a simultaneous renal failure. During his treatment then, his doctor also let loose similar agitating and faith shattering words “High Risk”. We took the risk then and we lost him. Destiny has once again made me face up the same state of affairs and hear the same life stripping words. I just suspired and walked off of his cabin. I required to cry heavy and out. My eyes could sustain my tears till the cabin’s threshold only. They were on the brink of rolling down my cheeks uncontrollably but percolated seeing my mom in front of me outside the cabin, sitting in a wheel chair, waiting desperately for me.

We were allotted an individual room on the third storey of the hospital building. Very soon, the wheel chair bearing my mom was pulled into the lift. I was besides her, discovering excuses not to face her pitiful yet pretty face. In all those few moments in the lift, she was just interpreting my face. She could chew over the fact that I was trying to fend off her and was managing my best to obscure my feelings. Finally, we were into a small but comfortable room. She stayed in the bed in sheer silence and I sat impotently without an inch of energy on a hard patient side bed, which is generally allocated for the attender. I did not inform any of my relatives of the surgery.  So there was no supportive shoulder or pacifying tongue or warming hand or a feeling heart. We were on our own. I texted my younger sister about my mom’s hospitalization, who was at her work then. I informed about the surgery, which was scheduled the next morning at 11.00 am on 1st November. My mom was on enema for the next hours until her surgery. Both of us could not sleep thinking about the happening tomorrow. I was strengthening myself saying, “this too shall pass” .

What an irony……Heart fully, I was praying that all of my mom’s body parts should be intact and nothing should be cut off from her – Mindfully, I was convincing my mom to swallow the fact that the problem is with her uterus and she will be alright if that is removed. I guess, I was fooling myself, my mom and the creator, who made her Uterus. I guess, He was a in a fix whether to grant what my heart is praying for or to go with what I was convincing my mom to accept. With all these burying thoughts, time flew away just like that. Bright day slowly turned into dark night. Her Blood pressure was shooting up. Doctors were trying to stabilize her and her BP. At last, she was lulled to sleep after few injections. In the dim light of the room, I could see her glowing and healthy face amidst the darkness and all the illness. After living with a year full of sleepless nights, there she was sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed. Was that bed so comforting or was that she has given up all her hope and will. All the dispirited thoughts pierced me the whole night.

                                                                                                                                          To be continued…….