Heroic Moms

"Love for the child can move mountains.” All the moms would unanimously agree with the above statement. Every mom is a hero whether she has a biological child or an adopted one. As a mother you strive to do the best for your children as you feel that your children are precious and the best of the world is just good enough for them. We go through the “joyful” pain of motherhood with love and pride of being mom. Once a mom always a mom- Life goes on a track from where you can’t take a U turn. If the days, weeks or years since you became a mother feel like one big blank, give yourself a break. You can forget everything in this world but not the things that are precious: your baby's first smile,  first word, your toddler's first walking step, your 3 year old's first tricycle ride, the adorable look of your 7 year old when he lost his front two teeth, the troubles of teenage….. and the utter joy of being a mom. When all set for the journey of motherhood, ever

My Hero at the traffic signal.

It had been pouring the whole night. The quilt enveloped the whole wide bed and we curled our toes to the warmth, drawing into the dreamy selves and wished the lazy night will never end.  The morning alarm rang ceaselessly. Pulling self out of the slumber, I nudged my husband gently on his shoulders to get ready for morning jogging. He opened his eyes for a jiffy and nonchalantly said –“It is still raining. I am going to work from home and will do some yoga at home later.” He snuggled himself in the warm bed and went back to his dreamy slumber. I felt the pinch of covetousness –“Lucky him!! He can work from home.”  But there is still twenty minutes left for my alarm to ring and nag me. I can still catch some more dreams.!! The alarm kept ringing unremittingly but only a gentle shook from my hubby pulled me out of my dream. I hurriedly gaped at my mobile and was crestfallen. I was running late; late by 15 minutes, and that is enough to derail everything for the whole day.

Kusum Bua : The unsung warrior

A mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relation has been the most talked about relations in our society since ages. It has got too much of hype and our Bollywood and media has cashed it to the fullest. It is a sweet and sour relation and it depends on one’s luck whether they get more of sweetness or more of bitterness. But without any doubt, this relation makes an important part of a female’s life and effects it profoundly whether she is a mother-in-law or a daughter-in-law. We have heard a lot of stories about this relation from media and from other sources. We have stories of torturing mother-in-laws and mother-in-laws setting their daughter-in-laws on fire because of dowry. We do have stories where daughter-in-laws exploit their old in-laws. But here I am going to present an unusual story that never caught attention of the media and could not influence and inspire millions across the country as it was never written or told by anyone. This is a true story, which greatly influenced

Soulmates forever.

Finding Mr. Right ….I never had to assay for this search. I was served by destiny. We met through common relatives and friends and the journey began. I was not on a hunt for Mr. Right.  Still in my final year of post-graduation, at the age of 22, I was in a transition phase….outgrowing the tipsiness of romance inflicted by Yash Raj movies. ..A cute looking hero without a moustache who is a successful man, has great sense of humour, travels across the globe and is too romantic to squeeze time to dance around Swiss mountains with his beautiful wife. …A rosy dream that most of the girls of my age grew up with. But in real life, I met a tech savvy man with a bushy moustache. He had a great sense of humour but lacked all the other qualities of a typical Yash Raj hero.  He had a busy work life and messed up all my whims of romance. He was a stark contrast to me…a man with few words, but I felt a “comfort” with him. I shuddered the fantasies of reel life sweet coated husbands and em


The sound of children playing boisterously in the play area, zooming cycles and skateboards, young boys and girls with their shuttle, rackets, football and basketball—this is how our apartment campus is in evening on most of the time of the year. I am attuned to the hustle and bustle and enjoy the spirit and vitality of life during my regular evening walks.  I relish watching the different age groups engaged in play…..each age reflecting the stage of development and evolution. Younger ones engaged in self paly, pretend n play and imitative play. The little older ones from 7 to 14 (my favourite group, a stage which is the playground of soul and feelings) engaged in more rule based games, structured pretend n play, indulging in manipulations and negotiations, exploring their black, white and grey shades. I love to overhear their conversation while pretending to be lost in my thought and in my walk. The young teenagers engage in more intellectual talks and competitive games with

Numbers Ru(i)n our Lives

“Mama loves me more than anyone”- the shrill and agitation of my younger one’s voice indicated an overture to another sibling combat. “Sibling rivalry” must have some evolutionary significance and the law is that it patronises the house more on a long weekend. But this weekend, the conciliator mother wants her own peace of mind and is reluctant to wear the peacemaker cap every hour. She is overwhelmed by the brimming over bullets on her to-do list for the weekend. So I opted to control my itch to jump into the role of a referee. I continued with my cleaning of drawers while the verbal spat between my two angels continued.. “She loves me more than infinity”- yapped my younger one, beaming with pride as she could use the biggest quantity to her knowledge. “Infinity! Infinity! Infinity!”- she kept yapping with her cherubic laughter. My elder one started with “Infinity raise to the power of infinity! Infinity raise to the power of infinity..!”-validating that her knowledge is s

Anonymous Friend.

Donned in a casual white tee and brown knee length shorts with a ponytail neatly tying his shoulder length blond hair, he stood in the queue at the billing counter. I got the side glimpse of his fair face and blue eyes. I felt the strong pounding in my head.  My heart thumped wildly with million emotions pouring in. He loved India and had a plan to visit India-- Is it real ‘him’ or just my imagination?? A strong adrenaline rush tinged me and my lumbering steps with a heavy cart festinated at the speed of light. The items on my shopping list were dropped and I rushed to the billing counter. Standing behind him, I said an enthusiastic “Hi” with my voice and tone expressing a cocktail of emotions. He turned back and responded with a friendly “Hi”. It was not him.. All the emotions evaporated and what sublimated was an embarrassment. The blonde youth sensed it. Though he did not verbalize it, his bewildered eyes conveyed the message-“Are you Okay?” Back home while arranging the groce