She was feeble, her face was pale and her lips were dry…..it was more than a week that she laid in bed. He touched her hand and she deposed it away. He could see her perspiring forehead before she covered her face into the blanket and rolled to the other side showing her back to him. He gently touched her shoulder and called her name.
She muttered something, acknowledging that she was aware of his presence. She was but half asleep. He saw the medicines lay there by her bedside, the same way he left them in the morning. Some cat had spilt the milk from the cup and drunk more than half of it.
“You have to drink this syrup to heal” he said.
She didn’t like that honey smelling syrup. “I hate that smell” and the taste is “Yuck” she said turning to him.
“I am glad that your nose is cleared” he smiled
“This will heal your fever. Drink this” He lied down next to her on one arm….while in another hand he held the syrup.
She twisted her head off and turned away to the other side. He sat up next to her. He pulled her to a sitting position with his free arm. She couldn’t sit on her own. He let her rest against his chest.
She tried to speak, to tell him not to force her, but before the words could slip from her tongue the warm edge of the cup touched her lips and the fluid leaked into her dry mouth. She shook her head vigorously and he pulled the drink from her.
“I do not want it ….leave me alone.” She yelled in a frail voice
“No,” it was all that came from him, however it was firm. He raised the cup to her again, but she refused and turned aside.
His tightened his hold and his hand reached the back of her neck, holding her head upright. The cup tipped, pouring the concoction into her mouth and he had to remove it once as she spat some of the mixture from her lips and it drenched her blankets.
“You leave me no choice,” he was tough,
but this time before she could spit off the liquid, he covered her lips with his. She struggled to free herself from his grasp, but in her weakened state it was to no avail. She swallowed, and it was only then that he removed his lips.
She frowned at him and wished to speak, but the cup was at her lips again. But before she knew it, so were his. He repeated this action until the cup had been emptied of its contents, mercilessly forcing the drink into her body.
“How dare you,” she tried to growl or perhaps snap at him, but it only came out as a worn out whisper. He placed her head back onto her pillow and pulled the blankets tightly around her chest.
“Sleep well,” he said.
Once upon a time in a distant forest lived there lived a small community of frogs… As it happens in those days they spoke beautifully.
In soft tender tone they would sing songs of the pond. The lotus would go to sleep listening to their songs. The flies mesmerized by them would stop mid air alas would be caught dead. The birds would keep quiet in envy. They would move away high up on the trees to sing.. to not to interrupt. Few of the brave souls would try to challenge them but most either slinked away or joined them in their symphony keeping time.
It was an ideal world. A paradise.
Into such a world came one poor frog. He didn’t have a sweet voice. He croaked. And to balance this defect out, god had given him the skill of enterprising and the intelligence to use it. He market
ed himself as unique artist. When he spoke people listened. Simply because he was different.
He was very much in demand.. and the whole of next generation imitated him blindly. Especially the Toad X.
Toad X was such an imitator that he surpassed his idol. He talked like him walked like him. And inculcated it onto others as the ‘cool’ thing!
Many generations passed as it happens and all the frogs forgot that they can sing. They all croaked now and thought, croaking is how they sound. Until one day Junior X was born. Interestingly, he was left alone by everyone as.. he sung.
And when he sung, the flies stopped mid air. All the members of the pond envied him and hated him.. as he was so different. Which he wasn’t.. he was more true to what they really were than anybody else.
But that my friend was his crime.
He was suppressed, tortured until he gave up singing until he died. And when he died, he was celebrated as the one and only singing frog who was brave enough to survive in this cruel pond…
And that perhaps is the story of every being in this world….
He was a wonderful artist, people said. A magician of words. A great story teller. When his pen started to weave magic, no one could remain unaffected. Under his blazing sun, she all but remained over shadowed. She had gentle ways, she did. And she never begrudged him for he was her sun..her knight in shining armor. She was very much content to rest in the welcoming shade of his shadow and protection.
But she was always there for him. To listen, to correct, to advise, to hold his arms, pick up his clothes and plates behind. To make sure he eats, he sleeps... Like a true soul mate.
And he took all of it as his due. She loved him yes... But she wished for once he would notice her, for all that she did.
She kept the fireplace burning, literally and figuratively while he journeyed through the land of fantasies. He talked about emotions, alive and raging, of gentle murmurs and whispers, of sighs and nudges. And yet, or may be because of it, he never understood them in real life.
She wished for once, just once, for him to notice her. Really notice her. Not with those dreamy eyes that she loved so much but in complete awareness. She wished she could be more than an audience to his fantasies..she wanted to be a part of it.
Alas, her wish was never fulfilled while she was alive. There were just too many ideas waiting to be spun into intricate stories.
And then it happened. She died. She was gone forever from his life..unnoticed.
He couldn’t write anymore. For you see, all his stories were for her, of her in many different avatars. When the muse died, the art decided to abandon him to his grief.
If only she knew, it was her, always her, that lived in his fantasy!
It was a sunny afternoon. My companion was still sleeping, dreaming her wonderful dreams, while I looked out of the window, observing the passersby. There were not many. A small kid of 4-5 years playing ball on the road with his imaginary friend. An old man chiding him to stick to the pavements. A woman in the next building hanging clothes as the wind blew on her face. And there was a lady waiting to cross the road at the corner, lost in her thoughts.
I wondered what she was thinking. She seemed pleasantly happy. In a way, she was day dreaming. As the signal changed, I saw her looking this way before crossing, just to be sure. I couldn’t help but smile. Then I recognized her. She was… She was my wife.
There it was. My living nightmare. My most cherished dream. I willed her to look up, to notice me. I hoped she would. Then this charade would end. This game of lies that I played with each living breath. A farce that wasn’t even original.
And then she looked up. And I … forever a coward, instinctively moved backwards. She hadn’t seen me. She was looking at the birds flying in tandem to an unknown music, perfectly choreographed. I was glad for a moment, and yet, despair seemed to raise its ugly head.
Was it that she trusted me so blindly, or was it that she knew and accepted it as a passing fancy ? And yet, with contrariness of emotions, I could feel a rage building within myself. But whom was this rage directed towards? Her for not noticing? or me , for wanting her to notice and letting truth come to light, or towards my lover, who by her sheer presence made these lies necessary?
I looked at her receding back. She looked happy. A stranger on the road. My wife. She was happy. I wasn’t.
Presently, my lover demanded to know what caught my attention. I said, it seemed like raining , as I closed the windows and returned to her welcoming arms.
P.S. This is an excerpt from a dream that I had few nights back..have tried my best to put it in words ..of course with little imagination in order to give it shape. Hope I had a way to remember my dreams.
Offices or Workplaces are not merely a place to work.(Hope my boss does not read this) For many of us like me they are "observatories of human nature" and this is where many of us like me learn important lesson of life - Wisdom.
Thought of sharing these pearls of wisdom with my fellow bloggers that I have accumulated over my years of observation.
DISCLAIMER: Well I write this post with intention of not hurting anyone and Just an FYI thankfully none of these people work with me.
The Mr./Miss/Mrs. Know-it-All
The KIA guy is extremely difficult to get rid off. The 
know-it-all runs on a shortage of self-esteem, sometimes connected to limitations in certain anatomy or their personalities. They hope by projecting their vast and superior knowledge, they can compensate for their shortcomings; pun intended. Coworkers in this category can be identified by their habits of putting irrelevant trivial facts into conversations, by trying to dominate meetings and in challenging every other point raised someone else. Can be quite irritating at times.
The Drama Magnet
Both males and females can use drama to make their uninteresting lives interesting. They dramatize all aspects of their life to make them look interesting. For them, work is like the professional league of drama. Drama Magnets pick fights, get insulted easily and have a complaint about everything from the water cooler to the weather. Drama Queens/Kings have got huge social circles and always want to remain the centre of attraction.
The Boss's Pet
People belonging to this group are both sweet and slippery; they are “loyal” to everyone, but primarily to the boss. Keep aw
ay from them because, they will betray, spy and kill to advance their career. Beware of what you say around them because you know they are just gathering information. Your boss probably knows how fake those belonging to this category are, but most bosses need pets; they aid in their rule and make bosses feel powerful.
Expert tip to Spot One: They sing "Happy birthday" the loudest on the boss’s special day.
The Doormat
Everyone steps all over them and makes them feel insignificant. Underpaid and perhaps underappreciated, they would hate their job if they had ambitions or self respect. The doormat sort of person thinks that they are important and in-the-know, when in fact this is just a delusion to compensate for dignity. However, there are enticing doormats, they make you wonder how a human can function with no spine.
The Rumor King/Queen
Well this cate
gory is primarily dominated by females. If it wasn’t their hidden talent of gossip, I would have termed members of this group to be "Doormats". They seem enthusiastic about work because they appear to discuss it so much. They are actually talking about co-workers. The smaller your office, the less they have to discuss — therefore larger companies are their primary stomping ground for them. Rumor King/Queens more often than not tend to be tea drinkers, smokers and water cooler clingers. Through my experience have figured out that best way to deal with them is to listen, nod your head, but do not talk.
Hope you enjoy the post and do let me know about the other Hybrids or Species that I might have missed out on.
Would love to know about them.
Hello my fellow bloggers.
I hope you all are having a nice Christmas holiday season.
Anyway, I have been off site for longer than I care to, due to a steadily increasingly busy schedule, both personally and professionally.
More of it could be professionally, have been going through a mental block. Don't know whether it just happens with me or does everyone face it sometime!
I just couldn't write anymore. I still haven't been able to figure out why, but I could not. After my last post there was sort of a perpetual block.There were so many things on my mind which I wished to write about but when it actually came to penning it down, I was lost.
I kind of developed a major "depression". Though I feel that depression might be a bit too strong word to explain my state. It goes like that for me. I have periods of relative stability and then weeks of being your regular zombie. I WANTED to write. But I couldn't. There really isn't a good example to explain this. But when I get in that mode, I simply don't want to do anything.
And it's not just with writing. It's with even the most basic things. I really shouldn't be doing this. But I'm only sharing it because I think people need more than just, "I couldn't write."
For a person who makes his living out of "Writing", I could not write seems to be lame excuse. But it's true.
But on the brighter side am back and back for good, with lots of thoughts and determination. Writing these many paragraphs in the past few weeks for my blog certify's that am on stage of recovery.
Initially,I considered simply not addressing my long absence at all. But it seemed likely people would wonder why I would have been gone for so long from a blog I myself created. Yet, the reasons for my absence were not particularly interesting.
So with this post, I acknowledge my absence and register an intention not to let there be so long an absence again.
I only want to say that I want to continue to be a part of this and not just as an observer.
Got a lot to catch upon!!
Wishing you all a Happy New Year!!
When the clouds show no promise of a silver lining, there is grief and there are many ways of dealing with this sadness.
Some blame Him, He who is the eternal punching bag. The weight of their gunny bag hasn’t really reduced physically, but in their minds maybe they feel a little lighter. ‘He brought in these clouds, He better bring in the sunlight soon. Otherwise, there is no God.’
Some wallow in self-pity and do practically nothing but just whine at their misfortune- ‘Life is not fair. Why can’t these clouds hover above the neighbor’s house? Why me? I am helpless.’
Some are practical; they just look at the sky and say- ‘It’s cloudy today. It’ll rain and things will be messy. It’s beyond anyone’s capacity to stop the rain; no point wasting my time worrying about it. I’m going ahead and doing what I was doing.’
Very few are determined action seekers, doing what they can, leaving no stone in the world unturned knowing very well that it’s an impossible daunting task. Even at the most miserable and trying times, they have the capacity to smile and count their blessings while keeping the faith. They have a glimmering hope in spite of depleted resources and harrowing prognosis.
It’s a high time that silver lining made its presence felt.
Too many people miss the silver lining because they're expecting gold.
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
......W.H. Davies
1. I'm suffering from a semi-minor bout of writer's block. It seems like I'm busy juggling all aspects of my life and can't find the time or space to write or really think about everything.
2. Busy with the job. It's nothing close to what I've done these last 6 years and honestly, that's why I took it up(well maybe not). It's different, I've got a lot to learn and it's OK, so all's fine for now.
3. Thought on my mind: Newton's law states, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. If you push against something, it pushes back with the same force. The more you struggle, the more your struggles are futile. Guess could see the silver lining..
4. My brain is stuck writing just this post. I mean, seriously, it's a list, an update of sorts. And I can't even get it down?
5. All right, so really? I don't think I can handle thinking too much (or over-analyzing) right now because my life is requiring more emotion from me than it has in a long time, and that makes me extremely vulnerable, and it's dangerous for a vulnerable D to over-analyze and obsess and tune in to his fears and worries. So, for the sake of, you know, my freaking sanity, I'm trying with all my might to be normal about this.
