Wednesday, 7 November 2012



At last the moment came for which I was waiting for so long. I rushed to grab my webcam because I want to hold this moment with me for rest of my life; I want this moment to remain in front of my eyes ever.

He was trying to stand on his feet, wow. My son Gaurav was about to take his first step independently on the floor. This is the most amazing scene for any mother in this world and this feeling brought tears in my eyes. 

He first stands still for a while, gave a look to me, smiles by showing his newly came front teethes and then strikes his first leg on to the ground. When he lifts his second leg, he starts to loose balance; my heart starts to beat harder. Gaurav rushes towards me just like a toy car which has loosened his control.

I grabbed my baby with happiness and hoped that he will remain with me just like now………………………


“Mom, I have filled all the required entries.” I listened to Gaurav quietly. “And I will visit you frequently.” He was feeling embarrassed, I knew that. Who will like to stand with his mother in an old age home? After the death of my husband, I was a kind of burden on him and his carrier. The cruel looks of other oldies, like me, was killing him. He wanted to leave the place as soon as possible. 

He said bye, and moved back. My heart called him several times but he didn’t look back. My heart called his name for the last time and he looked back. He came near me and said, “I have left my contact number here, if you need anything just call me.” That last sentence of him made my tears to flow down. I wanted to say that ‘I need you’ but there was no one to listen. I watched him leave the room. 

I wept a lot that night. After that I took the webcam again and watched my Gaurav, not my 25 years old Gaurav but my 25 months old Gaurav, still searching for his mother’s hug, her mother’s love……………… 

Sunday, 21 October 2012


“Badhai ho, ladka hua hai.” Nurse said to my father. He was happy because I was the only son who born after five daughters. He took me in his arms and said, “Bilkul maa par gaya hai. (He resembles his mother)”. So my story started from there only………

I bought up in a family where there were six ladies, so may be this was the reason my friends always laugh on me when they see me doing normal things. They laugh, when I talk. They laugh, when I walk. I was like a butt of ridicule for them. My body structure and my behavior was a bit famine, according to them. May be that’s why I got the title “The Mama’s Boy.” That time I accepted the title because yes, she was the most important lady of my life. I loved her and can do anything she asks.

My friends called me to play cricket in afternoon but my mother rejected, in turn I rejected. They called me “Mama’s Boy” and laughed. My friends told me to bunk classes but I refused to betray my family (My Mother). They called me “Mama’s Boy”. They offered me cigarette but principles of mother came in the way. They called me “Mama’s Boy.” My girlfriend left me saying me “Mama’s Boy.”

Firstly I enjoyed the title, then I managed with it, then that title started annoying me. I am a big man now, not a boy who will always step behind because of his mother’s principle. Screw the principles……….

Then came the time to say good bye to family for studying in abroad. My mother cried and I smiled a lot on that day. At last I got the chance to change my life now.

I drunk, I took cigarettes and also started to take drugs. Wow, what a life. My Mom called me many times in a day but I seldom replied her. Slowly number of calls from her side decreased. I was lost in the freedom, freedom from that bloody title.

One day we were having fun with our juniors. While that fun we came to know that one of them doesn’t have mother. He cried like a small kid. At that moment my heart’s sleep broke.

I realized the emptiness of mother from someone’s life, from my life. There’s nothing                                        bad in being Mama’s Boy. This only shows your affection to that great lady who felt pain, and then only you came to this world. Tears rolled down my eyes.

I called my mother, she didn’t receive. I called again, no reply. I called many times, still the same result. I called my sister then, firstly she didn’t say anything. I forced her, and then she told me the truth. My mother was in hospital. She had cancer and was in last stage. That is why she wasn’t calling. She told everyone to not to tell me about this. She wanted me to study, to become a great man in future. She didn’t want to hurt me, and I hurt her.

I took the next flight to home, reached hospital but was late. She was gone, leaving me alone, leaving this “Mama’s Boy”. I could only cry on myself………………..

Thursday, 11 October 2012


“Now, children follow me.” Said middle aged woman to the bunch of children in school uniform of age group below 10 years, maybe she was the teacher of those children. All the children slowly started to follow her. In the background a sweet, slow music was running which sometimes fades and a beautiful voice of a lady announces, “Welcome to the History museum” and again the music resumes.
“Children please, now have a look at this picture.” That woman grabbed the attention of children and showed a portrait on the wall. “This lady’s name is Ria. Some people say that she was able to see the future. Many scientists worked on her ability and tried to find out the reason behind this ‘Future Philosophy’ but everything failed when she died.”
One boy from the crowd of children asked, “How did she die?”
Firstly the teacher hesitated to say anything but after a while she said, “Look at your back, that window. She jumped down from that window. This museum was once her own house.” Boy stared on that window…………
Boy faded, and slowly the children, that woman, the whole museum faded. Lights got replaced by darkness and the music by quietness. The only thing Ria can listen was her fast beating heart.
Ria was standing on that window, ready to end this curse, by ending this miserable life. She regained her breath and said, “Please leave me alone, I don’t want to see these future dreams. At least let me die in peace.” Tears started to flow down her cheeks. She rubbed those water droplets, gained strength, and jumped down. She was in the mid air when…………
Building from where she jumped faded, trees faded and finally she herself faded.
Ria opened her eyes on bed. “How many times will you show me this same dream?” She screamed while catching her breath again. “I am not a coward, understand. You took everything from me but can’t take my courage back. I will fight you, I will fight my destiny………….”

Saturday, 6 October 2012


The day was calm… with the beautiful sun shimmering in between the dark grey clouds… streams of rays entered the room through the window. The raindrops played beautiful music… the room beamed like some new jewel brought into the light after a polishing cut… the room was beautiful in its calmness except for the morning breeze whistling and the tiny birds chirping… the room was covered with light shades of wallpaper..A vase of white lilies stood in a corner filling the air with its fragrance… few art crafts filled the walls… and the table near the window stood with photographs of a little girl and a young woman… and then a teenage girl proudly showing off her trophy… and a photo showed a girl in her twenties adorned in white wedding dress, love filled eyes held by a young handsome man. An old lady with freckles on her childlike face sat close to the window pane… as I went near to check on her… she looked at me with the same kindness and love that her eyes always had… I kissed her on the fore head wished her “happy birthday”… she smiled and gave me the sheet of paper… it had her still beautiful handwriting… I recognized it was a page from her diary… I looked at her… she wanted me to read it… I took the papers and started to read.

“I walked in as usual finishing my morning prayers to my silent den… the day was beautiful… the morning rain has left the grass damp ,showered the flowers and wetted the usually dry ground…the scent of fresh soil lingered.. It felt good when the smell tickled my senses and that made sure that I can smell even now… I sat in my favourite spot dragging my chair nearer to the window… window panes had water droplets… Still fresh as dew drops… I drew a smiling face with the moisture on the glass pane… though not so perfect it looked good… as I sat back looking at the smiling face… memories filled my head…
“Mummy!! The clouds are crying!!” shrieked a tiny figure jumping up and down in the front of my eyes.
I went and grabbed her in my arms comforting her said “darling they aren’t crying … they are tears of happiness” with a smile on my face…
The tiny gal wasn’t convinced…she asked,”why are they so happy?? They even flooded dolly’s house mummy… where will my dolly stay?”
“Remember you came first in your class. That’s why they are happy… and our dolly can stay with us here…” she smiled and gave me a kiss…
My heart felt alive every time she did that… her little body hugged me and she said “I love you mummy”………
I couldn’t hold back my tears. I kissed her on the forehead and said “love you too honey”
She ran back and vanished into room… my little angel had grown too fast before my eyes… the first time she called me “mom”. The times she won the music competition… the times she won her painting competition…
And on her thirteenth birthday she cried for a mobile…the first time she wanted to know about her dad and when I said he is dead… for the first time she called me liar… I was hurt yet she was my daughter… she had all the rights… when she learned the truth about her dad’s second marriage she apologized… I forgave her without waiting for her to apologize…her wedding… my daughter’s wedding… I made it extraordinary… and she said I showed off her like a trophy…she didn’t know that she actually was a trophy to me… my most valuable trophy…things changed when I got old.. I needed her assistance for every single tiny and big thing… I became a hindrance to her… she never said it but I felt it… my son –in-law showed it openly… I moved out…I moved out of her life forever…
I got everything; I did everything I could do for her… My angel… I lived my life for her… I didn’t expect anything in return… but today I expect like every year… Just one call from my little angel… because it’s my 75th birthday… and I will still continue to expect that one call till my dying day… Bless you my child.”

A tear rolled down my cheeks… it was then I realized I had been crying… I looked at her not knowing how to comfort her… I am there for you always said my heart… And…as if she read my mind, tears brimmed her eyes.. And they slowly closed… Her breathing slowed steadily and stopped forever…At last she got , what she wanted. She got her trophy, her gift. Me………………

Monday, 30 July 2012



 Does she know what I know? Or I am the only one who knows?

That has been the question that fills my head lately. I wish I could just forget the fact that I know something that my best friend might not know. Or, might know. I don’t know.

Yet, I can't ask her if she knows it or not. What if she doesn't know? Asking the question will make me inform something that she might wish not to know. Her life will be spoiled in a second if she knows what I know.

Ah, I know, this is complicated.

Well, it looks simple, but trust me, it actually is complicated!

How can it not?

I saw my best friend's husband walking down the street with a girl--yes, a girl...I bet she's not even 17 yet!--holding hands. Talking merrily like…… ah, this is difficult, they were walking on the streets like lovers.

Well, let me just assume that she doesn't know. And if finally she knows it and comes to me and cries on my shoulder, I think I won't say a thing about what I know.

But being a friend, her best friend, I should inform her about what I know. I am confused….. Should I tell her, or should I keep this a secret.

May be, her husband was not like I am assuming him. May be the girl was her only friend or something……….. ‘Or something’ what? I think I should follow him.

I started following them through the market. Their talking was really funny; I guess this because they never stopped laughing. They walk, they laugh. They talk, they laugh. They eat, they laugh. They laughed on everything, they did.

Now I saw them going inside a jeweler shop. I cursed him badly when I saw him buying a necklace for that girl. I was furious; I decided to tell Meera, about his husband. I called her.

“Where’s your husband?” I shouted in anger when Meera picked the phone. My anger increased by many folds while watching her husband’s hand running down to reach his purse.

“Why?” She was unaware of what I was watching, what I was knowing…..

“Because your husband is roaming here in the market with a girl.” I thought that my word ‘girl’ hit her ears like a bomb’s impact.
She said nothing so I continued:
“Your husband is buying her necklace and roaming in the market with his hand in her. He is cheating you Meera.” I was like scolding her for not having a watch on her husband.

“The girl you are talking about is Ankita.”

“So you know her.” I was confused.

“Yes, I know her because she’s my husband’s sister.” That hit me like atom bomb’s impact.

Oh, dear. So she knows what I didn’t know. How could I forget that today’s Rakshabandhan. May be her husband bought the necklace in return of Rakhi.

Sometimes before knowing anything you should know what you are trying to know otherwise……….. You know…………

Friday, 27 July 2012




“Raj, your friends are calling you at the ground?” My mother called me from kitchen. She must have seen society boys at the ground.

“I am busy.” My mother was furious because of my behavior. I was just ten years old but behaves like a college going boy, she told those lines once to me. My winter holidays were on and I was not playing at all with other society children.

“Raj, I think you should go and play with your friends.” My mother shouted from kitchen. Her voice was coming to me with the sound of ‘Tadka’ she gave to the food. The smell of food was fabulous.

“Mom, I have to finish my holiday homework and one more thing, they are not my friends.”

Now the frustration of smoke coming from the ‘Kadhai’ started to burst on me. She started cursing me in her village’s language which I didn’t understand at all.
“Thare koi home work milo hogo………….” And other similar sentences which I even can’t write.

I just closed the door of my room and started concentrating on the essay, “How you spent your holidays?”


I was pretty excited today. I was the first one to come to school. I started rehearsing my essay; I didn’t want any mistake from my side. Today was the big day for me.

Rehearsal completed and the wait started. Class started to fill with strangers and my eyes were still waiting for my love, Shikha. My eyes were near to shed water when I saw her. After a long 27 days period, she’s again in front of me. Her eyes met my eyes and then her eyes, slowly felt shy and as they felt shy, they left a smile on her lips which induced the same effect on my lips. What an enormous feeling that was!
She was a shy girl, she never expressed her feeling. She even didn’t talk to me much. She sat in the girl’s row and chose the seat from where I can’t see her clearly. I decided to change my seat but before I can do so, our class teacher Mrs. Anita reached the class. 

According to the roll numbers, essay reciting process started. I thanked god for putting her roll number before mine. Now the wait for the roll number 23 started.

Roll number 21, 22 and finally 23 arrived in front of us. She stood from her bench, adjusted her skirt, then her hairs and slowly looking at the paper on which she wrote the essay, moved towards the teacher.

Her eyes again met my eyes and the same shyness took her eyes away from me.
“During my winter holidays I went to my uncle’s house where I ……………” she continued in her sweet and childish voice. I kept on staring her till she again reached her bench.

I was lost somewhere, somewhere very far away from where we live when I heard my teacher shouting my roll number.

I rose from my seat and reached in front of the class. My eyes again met her eyes but this time she seemed to hear me out eagerly. I looked at my paper and then started to read:

“I just hate my holidays because it takes me away from my friend. I just hate my holidays because it restricts me to see my friend, my best friend, my love Shikha.

During my holidays, I just missed her and waited these holidays to over. I missed my Shikha’s smile, I missed my Shikha’s eyes, I missed my Shikha’s …………..” my teacher stopped me in between. I looked at Shikha she was lost in some thoughts; she was lost in my essay.

Her expressions changed in seconds when she saw Mrs. Anita dragging me to the principal’s office. I left my paper on the floor in hope that she will pick the paper and read it. I was on the door of principal when I saw her picking the paper. I was happy.

Principal Sir called my parents and told them everything. Firing of shouting was on from both sides, my parent’s and the principal’s side but I was happy with the thought that Shikha will be reading my essay which was a kind of love letter, my first love letter to her.

Outside I was sad and inside I was smiling by thinking that she must be reading:
“I missed Shikha’s talk, I missed Shikha’s walk. I want Shikha to stick in my life forever because Shikha is my love, Shikha is my life. I love you Shikha, I love you…….”

I know that she must have had tears in her eyes and ‘I love you’ on tongue.   





“Push, push, push………….” Was the second thing I heard and the first one was my mother’s shout, cry and pain.

Darkness was slowly disappearing and the bright light was ready to hurt my small eyes. White was the only color visible to me. Finally I was out in this new world and my mother took the breath of relief. I felt so bad when I realized that I was the reason of her pain. I started to cry.

I don’t know why but nurses looked really excited after hearing me cry. They took me in their hands, showed my blood drained body to my mother and I saw that her tears transformed in a sweet smile within a second.

Then the nurses gave me my first bath. I felt shy, so I cried louder. After the whole procedure required for me to keep on living on this planet, nurses first time gave my possession to my mother. That was a strange feeling. I felt warmth of love, I felt safe, and I felt alive for the first time. Then she fed me her milk and after that I was slept on my personal bed.

I was feeling like a show piece when everyone came to have a look at me. They made different faces, for them they were acting funny but for me they were acting like fools. I kept on crying and they kept on smiling. There was no one who can understand my feeling. I tried to have a look at my mother but she was also enjoying her time. I kept on staring my mother and cried as loud as I can. Then started the advices:
“I think he is hungry.” One fat lady sitting next to my mother said.

“I just fed him milk.” My mother answered.

“He must have done toilet in the bed.” One old aunty sitting somewhere in the room said.

One man came and took me in his hand and examined me, there was nothing. I continued crying then this man took the right decision to hand over me to my mother.

Now I was lying on the shoulder of my mother and my head tilted on the opposite side of my mother.

I was amazed to see that I was not alone who took birth today. The room was filled with many mothers and their children. My eyes got pinned on a child whose bed was just next to mine. That child was crying very loud. I don’t know what attracted me to look to him/her.

Now that child looked me and stopped crying. I smiled to him/her and the child smiled back. Now we continued looking at each other for a very long time. It attracted our parent’s attraction.

“See, your son is staring our daughter for so long.” Her (Yes, she was a girl) mother tried to be friendly to my mother.

“Your daughter is looking like an angel.” My mother said and now the talks started but our staring continued. This was the first time I said "I love you" to her and this continued for the whole life of ours.......

There was no doubt that we were made for each other and this is how we met for the first time and this journey never stopped.

SEVEN AGES is the story of love and I invite you to this eternal love story of RAJ (that’s me) and SHIKHA (my love).