Courage...

This girl was easily the most silent one in the PG. As language was a huge barrier, both of us restricted our conversations to various degrees of smiles and nods. Once, during a power cut both of us were pitted in the dark against each other and that slowly got us talking.

She spoke about her Mother who passed away in a freak accident a few years back, her Father who became a little disoriented after that, how he was pressurized into marrying another woman, how her siblings had to discontinue their schooling for two years…

It brought a huge lump in my throat and I asked her if she ever visited home. She told me she doesn’t want to and couldn’t even if she wanted to. My question opened another series of wounds she was healing with her almost tranquil existence.

Her step mother had sexually abused her sibling who then tried to commit suicide. This girl was apparently the only one gutsy enough to go to the police and report the incident. The lady was imprisoned and is still in jail. However, the step-mother’s brothers threatened to harm this girl if she stayed in her hometown. Thus she packed her bags and left the house, never to return again.

Child abuse is the most dreadful form of sexual abuse. It ruins your life or at least leaves an everlasting scar. The trauma and the pain you endure can never possibly be erased completely. That surge of anger, the realization of helplessness, the quiet retreat into solitude… The sibling even now apparently has nightmares and has completely stopped studying.

I couldn’t but help admiring this girl, for the courage she had to stand up to a group of blood thirsty men for her family. The quietest girl amidst us had suddenly become the greatest too.

Five Minutes of Bliss

It is a five minute walk to my office. And the sights I see are so varied each day that I look forward to the walk. The road is narrow and lined with trees. As the road bends to encompass a huge playground, I can see frenzied players shouting at each other, engrossed in the game. One of the apartments on my left has a wind chime that welcomes me with a tinkle and automatically brings a sense of peace from within. The house next to the apartment is a small one with a line of shrubs in front. A yellow bulb hangs precariously from the roof; a newspaper lies unclaimed in front of the door, and an unswept courtyard has dry leaves playing their own games.

I turn to an even narrower lane, and see white and pink flowers that remind me of peppermint candies. I pass a house that has a book cupboard in the garage. A small boy starts trotting beside me. He has a full white uniform that has light patches of brown – the mark of a sincere mother who would have spent hours scrubbing it. He is singing loudly and picks one of those flowers. Balancing his lunch basket in one hand, and adjusting his heavy school bag with a complicated jig of shoulders, he smells the flower and puts it carefully inside his basket. Suddenly he becomes excited and shouts loudly, waving frantically at a small boy, quite at a distance in front of us. The small boy takes a while to comprehend and then recognizing his friend, laughs and then falls down because he has not been looking in front. This boy bursts out into peals of laughter and I join him heartily. The other one brushes the dust away and starts laughing too.

Abruptly they realize I have been given admission into their private moment; the boy grins coyly and runs in front to join his friend. As for me, I feel strangely light and carefree. I hum a tune and push the office gates open. It has hardly been five minutes, but I have already had a great day. :)

True...

Wizard of Oz: As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don't know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.
Tin Woodsman: But I still want one.

One of my favorite lines from the book The Wonderful Wizard of Oz...
Well, it is true...All of us rip our hearts open for few things not worth our time or love…
At times we also know that we are going to get hurt finally…
We end up going the extra mile for something not really worth our attention…
Yet we continue...
That’s exactly why the Wizard says...hearts will never be practical...

I agree.... :)

Pop Goes the Weasel!!!

Half a pound of tuppenny rice,
Half a pound of treacle.
That’s the way the money goes,
Pop! goes the weasel.

Up and down the city road,
In and out the Eagle,
That’s the way the money goes,
Pop! goes the weasel.

For you may try to sew and sew,
But you'll never make anything regal,
That’s the way the money goes,
Pop! goes the weasel.

The monkey and the weasel fought,
The weasel's really feeble,
The monkey punched him in the face,
Pop! goes the weasel.

A penny for a spool of thread,
A penny for a needle—
That's the way the money goes,
Pop! goes the weasel.

I had always found this little rhyme very intriguing. I knew it was not just another nonsensical verse meant for kids. I was pretty sure it had some surrogate implication. Well, I was right! Check the link below for the actual meaning of this seemingly innocent rhyme.

Here goes…

Happy birthday….

Raise a toast to the 'Boy Who Lived'
Happy birthday Harry Potter!!!!
Today is the birthday of one of world's most loved fictional character, Harry Potter. This ingenious creation of J.K. Rowling managed to mesmerize children and adults alike and still continues to enthrall them.

This Pottermania struck me too. To be honest, there were days when I was angry with the newly found craze for the book. I was a faithful reader of HP long before it became a sensation, and here were people claiming to be hardcore fans, but in reality were the ones who started reading only after it came on TV.

I still very vividly recall how I used to read HP books during my 10th board exams when all the others around me fretted and fumed with math formulae. What was math compared to magic? I used to ask myself.

When the last book of HP came out, I was torn between extreme ecstasy and intense misery. I was happy that the mystery would finally be solved but at the same time the very thought of growing up and being no longer the little kid who could read HP, was agonizing.

Though the last book was a damp squib, I couldn’t help but love it. I thoroughly enjoyed the whole book and when I turned the last page to close it, my eyes became moist. But even now, when I am low, I immediately reach out to my shelf to pull out my favorite HP book and re-read a few pages. It takes me to the nonchalant childhood days when you had nothing to worry about. Sigh!! Nostalgia – The prefect medicine to a worn-out soul.