Grays and Blacks

Grays and Blacks

Grays and Blacks

It was a wonderful day with an occasional cool breeze bawling through the trees. I was wandering onto the yellow lawn inside the park looking for food. This is the best place where I could easily find food to eat. There are lots of crunchy things in yellow packets lying on the lawn, and sometimes yellow leaf stuffed under a soft brown thing wrapped with grey paper. People tend to throw away the leftover food after their tummy is full. Anyways, it was a happy day for me.

Just beneath a dark yellow bench I saw a grey thing with yellow leaf stuffed inside it, peeking through the wrapped paper. A salivating urge to eat it rushed through me. People throw the leftover with the expectation of someone else to pick it up and discard it in bin on their behalf. Unfortunately everyone thinks the same way and eventually I have to eat it. And I am happy for that. Because I was hungry and all I wanted was to eat that piece. I ran under the bench and scratched the grey paper to uncover the crumb and leaf. The leaves were juicy and tasted minty. I was lost in the paradise of taste and rest of the world blurred.

After a few moments a small screeching and indistinct cry brought me back to the real world from paradise. I looked up with magnified eyes to find out where the voice was coming from. A part of leaf was hanging out from my mouth as I stood there undistracted.

An old man was sitting under a big yellowish tree and the voice seemed to come from him. But before that let me tell you something strange about the big yellowish tree. It has a lot of leaves (which I can’t eat because I am too small) and the tree is full of grey balls which hide behind the leaves. People eat those grey things and I think they are tasty. I have never tasted them. Once, a lady threw the leftover ball on the lawn. That must be the happiest day in my life, I thought. But the leftover grey ball hardly had anything left on it.

This another time a young boy fooled me. He was sitting on one of the benches with a hard book lying on his lap. He held the book quite unusually, in a way that the lines in the book would stand vertical rather than horizontal. And only half of the book lied on his lap, the other half was open and the boy was continuously staring at it. There was also flashy light with people singing and dancing inside the book and that must be what the boy was staring at. I stood in front of the boy and I could see the book’s cover from this side. Suddenly, the same salivating urge rushed through my mouth as I saw it. On the cover of the book the same grey ball, like on the tree, laid – resting. And unlike the lady, who left nothing on the leftover, only one bite was missing from this ball. A bright white light reflected through the ball as if it was calling me. I hopped on my legs and jumped on the cover to grab the ball. Nothing! Although I was able to lick it only once yet it tasted nothing! Just nothing! Or maybe little like dust. The grey ball stood there sitting still on the cover not moving an inch. The boy ran, scared because I jumped on him. He left his grey hat on the bench.

I looked at the old man again. And I moved closer to him. I could hear his heavy breath which included lots of huffs and pauses. As I moved closer I saw his eyes were tightly shut like someone does so as to control some physical pain. I never did that. His old loose skin hung on his old bones forming series of uneven lines on his forehead and cheeks. The lines descended downwards like the liquid flowing down when put on a glass window. He wore a grey jacket and t-shirt and, between his fingers, he held a picture of a small girl. She was adorably cute with a grey bow on her head and a yellow sweater on her body. I wished to ask him what was wrong and why was he crying. But he sobbed and sobbed.

I rubbed my head on his arm and he gave me a saddened pat on my back with his trembling, old, worn out hands. Finally, after few minutes of patting, he muttered, gathering his breath,

“She was the reason I smiled and laughed. We played on this very bench.”

Tears again filled up his eyes and a few moments later he whispered,

“She turned six today..… would’ve”

He ruffled my hair and started leaving the park. He struggled to walk and used a stick for support. I could feel the pain behind his tears that had sucked all the liveliness out of his life. Without her this world was gray and black for him, just like me. I ran towards him with my tiny legs sinking in the grass. I started hopping and circling around him. Still he didn’t notice. Humans are stubborn, I thought. So am I.

I ran again and this time grabbed his trouser. He stopped and turned. His old eyes stared at me and he knelt so as to look into my eyes, closely. His breath had eased now and with a sigh he started speaking,

“Pal, you are a good doggie. I like you very much, just the way I liked my granddaughter. And that’s exactly the reason I won’t take you with me. I loved her till eternity”,  he paused to gather some breath and spoke again,

“Now that she’s gone, vanished into thin air, I feel the pain of being alone. If I keep you close you too will love me like I loved her, maybe even more. I am old now. Any day could be my last one” , ruffling my hair he added,

“I don’t want you to go through the pain that I am in now, pal. I am sorry.”

The old man stood up and left with his struggling walk and welling eyes. He didn’t want happiness in his life anymore.

As I stood there looking at his frame, disappearing with every step he took, suddenly, I felt a pair of soft hands on my belly. As my feet left the ground I realized that I was being lifted up. I couldn’t see who it was but the soft female voice assured me that it was a small girl. She held me close to her this time looking into my eyes. She was an adorable little girl. She had a grey bow on her head and a yellow sweater on her body. Kissing me, she screamed joyfully,

“Moommyy.…I wanna take him home.. I will name him braawniee..”

—————————–The End——————————-

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SHE

Women Blog

When I was a child I was often asked a question which was difficult to answer. The question was, ‘Whom do you like the most father or mother?’. My reply would generally be like ‘I like them both equally …’ and I would shut myself because that was an ultimately difficult question. And I am sure that most of us have faced the same problem sometimes  at least once in life!

That soft voice, that gentle touch, those gleaming eyes which have the potential to hide all the problems behind their tears, and those magical hands which every time when she cooks leaves you surprised. She is not just a woman but a standalone force of the family. She holds immense love in her heart along with huge courage of facing the hard times. She struggles, she manages, and she has an extraordinary power that puts a smile on all those faces without even saying a single word. She stays back at home and plans the future of her family, she goes for a job and plans a future for her family. Not a single time she thinks of herself but the family. All the love seems like pouring from a flooded river and all the positivity seems to enter the soul when she touches my cheek and tousles my hair. I can’t stop myself from looking back, to see her, standing there at the door, still waving her hand and saying, ‘Come back home soon, I will make your favorite sabzi today’. I wave my hand in return, I turn my face, I struggle hard to stop the tear that is about to roll on my face and I thank god for this precious gift he has bestowed upon me for my entire life. She is an inspiration, she is courage. She is a Mother.

There are times when you feel low, you need to talk to someone yet there’s no one you can find. You try to isolate yourself and lock yourself in your room. And even if you go in public you try to put on a fake smile to manipulate every eye. But, there are still some eyes that catch you in a glimpse. I sat on the stairs, my face buried in my knees and arms covering my ears and face. So tensed and so depressed, it was like the balloon of stress will burst any time inside my head. Then I felt something, a hand rolled swiftly on my hairs. It was so nice, it was so gentle. It was like the hand was sweeping the stress little by little from my head. I felt so calm. Then she spoke, ‘Oye hero, get up, let’s go on a stroll, let’s buy an ice-cream, let’s talk about your heroine..’ and then she laughed, loudly. She kept on laughing and patting me on my back. I smiled under my knees. I got up and saw her smiling face; she is an idiot I thought. She was still laughing. I punched her and hopped down the stairs. She did the same and said, ‘Hero, get ready for an adventure’. She is crazy, yet understanding. She is a guardian for every one of us and guards us against the problems. She is a fantastic person that everyone has. She is a Sister.

Some random day, when you are sitting in the canteen, taking a sip of hot tea. And your eyes peek up from the cup, you see someone and the next thing happens is; you are completely stunned. You can’t move your eyes unless the hot tea burns your tongue. But those two seconds, when your eyes witnessed something marvelously beautiful, come to a halt like a movie has been paused. Everything, except your eyes and her, stops and those two seconds seems like an eternity. You stop sipping the tea until she is there standing at the counter, you can’t afford to waste those precious moments. You know that she doesn’t even know your existence, yet some force strikes your heart and eyes and try to find a connection. Days, weeks, months pass, one day you talk to her. And things get moving on. She cares for you like a mother cares for her child, she loves you till infinity. The burden of problems gets lighter because she is the one strong and firm supporter. You feel crazy, you feel happy around her. You believe in yourself, you start being yourself because she makes you realize your potential. She is not just a woman, she is the one who helps you find yourself and achieve great heights of success. She is a Best friend, she is a girlfriend. Not everyone is lucky to have her but those who have her are among the happiest and the luckiest.

A single 1000 words article about women seems so mediocre, to describe her excellence and her love and her position in our life, but this is the least I can do to show my affection towards her ever kind nature.

Without the support of these three women, life is like a boat in the middle of the ocean with no directions to go.

#HappyWomen’sDay

#DedicatedtomyMother:)