From Grief To Growth


This is in response to Esther’s Weekly Word Prompt.

This week’s prompt: Family

Dear old Dhatin

From Grief To Growth

Epilogue

As my nephew and niece-in-law have been blessed with a baby girl on the 12th of this month my sister is  with them at present.

December is the month in which, apart from all the festive occasions, most birthdays in our family fall.

23.12.2025

My birthday and also sadly the day my mother left for heavenly abode. To spend the day without family, to say the least, was taxing!!

I wanted to do something different and meaningful.

As pre-planned, I took a two hour journey by cab for a three day visit to my school buddy.

***

My friend’s place is big and beautiful.

She is a renowned danseuse and teaches kathak to girls of various age groups.

After lunch and a short rest, we attended a powerful and effective session of meditation accompanied by a series of positive affirmations in the evening.

We returned healed and at peace.

24.12.2025

An enriched evening of an hour long dance recital choreographed by the students.

The programme, attended by the parents and senior/former students, ended with the participants and their seniors talking about their journey of learning Kathak and various other life lessons and skills.

25.12.2025

We undertook an hour and a half long drive by cab to an Ashram which shelters girls belonging to the economically weaker section of society. Some of them are orphans too.

Spread over six acres and supported by many families, the Ashram is run by a well known spiritual cum philanthropic organization.

We had a long interaction with Sadhu Maa –  the administrative head.

The Ashram facilitates the girls to get educated and employed.

Before leaving we handed over packed boxes of assorted snacks and a few other items which were required for the inmates.

The atmosphere of the Ashram was peaceful but we felt a bit depressed.

However, it was also very satisfying that we could do some good deed on the auspicious occasion of Christmas.

Prologue

Family is like a vast umbrella covering under its shade immediate blood relations, friends and also other like minded people with whom we share a bond of mutuality.

At my friend’s, I interacted with some very lovely people and of course dear old Dhatin , my buddy’s gentle and peace loving Golden Retriever.

The stay, though brief, the calming company of my friend, our joint efforts at healing and our humble endeavour to give back to society helped my personal grief to be channelized into a spirit of upliftment and growth.

Me and my friend with the saintly Dhatin

Bangalore Diary


My nephew and niece-in-law stay in one of the sprawling, well guarded blocks of high rises complete with  a swimming pool, mini mart, beauty parlour, tennis court, gymn and spa. Well, I am talking about Bangalore.

Life is, needless to say, orderly and organised. Though to me, it appears to be quite insulated compared to my humble abode in the Capital where public accessibility is unenviably high.

Everybody knows everyone. Being a ground floor flat the door bell does not stop ringing. Sometimes the callers are known and at other total strangers. Our one and only vegetable seller, Kaalu,  makes it a point to holler from outside, “Didi ! Kichhu laagbe.” (Didi! Do you require any vegetables). To which I can easily reply back from inside.

Sometimes it’s the construction worker next door requesting for a bottle of drinking water at other it’s the representatives from the Blind School for odd donation.

If the neighbours are having a loud debate I am privy to it. So is  Kaalu who positions his vegetable cart strategically to listen in comfortably.

The gardener’s hose pipe is “stationed” inside my balcony. His entry is, therefore, quite expected whenever the parks require to be watered. So is the flat painter’s tall  bamboo ladder which is placed inside the shaft. The shaft key is in yours truly’s “safe keeping”. Need I say the rest? 

During a sudden load shedding next door Bhabhiji has to enquire whether I am an equal sufferer. Same is the case on disrupted water supply. Let’s not broach the subject of online deliveries. It can be anybody’s.

In short, if you love people and a continuous interruption in your daily routine this is the locality to be.

In sharp contrast, at my nephew’s the door bell rings only if there is an order placed on or off line, on pre-planned visits of extended family/friends/visitors, during fixed times by house helps. Life is peaceful, eh?

Waiting for the lift, the deathly quiet on the landing is unnerving. The doors to the three other flats on the same floor are tightly shut. I often have an overpowering urge to place my ears on one of them to make sure if there are really any occupants inside.

But the apprehension of being caught red handed does not evoke pleasant feelings.

I thus refrain.

The Smiling Surgeon


As you all know, beginning of 2025 I was oscillating between life and death and had to undergo three major and rare surgeries at an interval of two/three months on an average.

The first of these three surgeries was performed by a very experienced and senior surgeon – Dr. T. His team was excellent. The rest of the two surgeries were done by another very experienced surgeon – Dr. S. The only difference between the two was Dr T had a grim and unsmiling countenance whereas Dr. S had a forever cheerful demeanor.

Subsequently, I came to know that  Dr T, though an expert in his field, had a very formidable reputation of being extremely stern with the staff and doctors.

Dr. S, on the other hand, was very approachable, kind , compassionate and understanding. While both the doctors belonged to the same field ( gastroenterology) yet most patients preferred to be treated by Dr. S.

I realised treating patients not only required a high degree of  medical proficiency but also good bedside manner which played an important role in positive and time bound healing of the patient. While the former cures  physiologically the latter gives a boost to the morale and emotional strength to cope with the trauma.

Winter Tale


winter walk

deeper I recede

into the past

                                         fencing

                                         the garden…leaves

                                         still shiver

among us

yet not

the clouds

                                           a new lock

                                           on the door

                                           last night thieves

                                           robbed the neighbour

On Christmas Eve


This is in response to Rochelle’s Weekly Photo Prompt for Friday Fictioneers.

Word Count: 100

The house looked perfect from the outside – polished wood,  glittering mirrors,  sparkling lights, ornately framed  pictures !!

Yet..

All that glitters could not erase its dark, haunting past – the gruesome murder a decade back! The investigation, of course, was inconclusive.

Now the owner had returned and invited the sleepy village on Christmas eve to celebrate his homecoming.

They all came with palpitating hearts and screamed in unison as the lights went out all of a sudden, around midnight.

When the gardener’s body  was found in the backyard the next morning, they ejaculated, somewhat triumphantly,

“See! I told you…”

***

You can read the other stories here.

The Circus Of Life


This is in response to Sadje’s Weekly Photo Prompts on #Whatdoyousee

In this humungous play

We enact many roles

We cry and make others cry

We laugh and make others laugh

And then let others laugh at us

And make us cry too

We choose to be in chaos

We choose to make chaos

Spiralling into a Tarantula-n spell

We forget…

In the hands of an unknown puppeteer

We are mere toys – play things to be

Made to pirouette and dance to a tune

unheard…

And when the curtain falls

At the end of the final act

We sigh in resignation …

At times in exasperation

…exclaim

“Oh! See ! This circus of life !“

#Wdys

Giving-in And Giving-up


This is in response to Esther’s Weekly Word Prompt.

This week’s Prompt is – Giving

***

Giving-in And Giving-up

I am a little confused between giving-in and giving-up.

We have been taught to accept life as it comes. With acceptance we let go much that seem crucial. Acceptance entails giving-in as well as giving-up.

Giving-up on dreams and aspirations because they challenge reality is giving in to the easy path.

Being brave about giving up everything that we hold precious is pretension.

If giving-in makes one feel vulnerable does giving-up without any qualms makes one stronger?

If there is defeat in giving-in is there victory in giving-up?

We give-in to the Divine Will – an ultimate surrender.

We give up bad habits – a conscious endeavour.

We give-in to failure – a candid admission of defeat.

We give-up apathy and rise – an ode to perseverance.

Giving in has a ring of resignation to it while giving up implies lack of resistance.

At a juncture giving-in and giving-up both coincide.

There’s neither defeat nor victory.

Life is just walking on a long road without giving in or giving up or perhaps both giving in and giving up.

Budding Romance


What was the last thing you did for play or fun?

The contours of our locality has changed considerably since the District Court has come up right opposite our Block.

Law Firms and Legal Offices have mushroomed. Men in black hover around. The influx of ‘justice seekers’ has raised  safety and security concerns for the residents.

The flat adjacent to mine is one such portico of legal services. Till now the inmates have respected our privacy. However, the strip of street bordering the building is gradually turning into a public parking lot, specifically, for two wheelers.

After detailed discussions, it has come on me, the ground floor occupier, to tell off the visitors not to park in front of our premise. This implies I have to be ready always at the front gate to immediately forestall whosoever is about to park. An impossible task. (Usually I notice when they are leaving).

Lately, a scooty stands right in front of my kitchen window. My unassuming, narrow streak of a garden lies in between the vehicle and my kitchen. It belongs to a girl visiting the legal outfit next door. I mostly spot her when she is departing. 

The girl is pretty usually escorted out by a tall, handsome boy in his customary attire. I observe an everyday ritual to her departure. Before putting on her helmet she loosens her dark tresses and leisurely ties them up again in a bun while softly conversing with the boy who looks quite smitten by the whole activity.  It’s midday. The sun shines on her face. It glows like a rainbow. The boy’s eyes speak more than words.

This is the opportune moment for me to barge in with ladle in hand telling her to park elsewhere. But…I…simply… can’t… be a kabab mein haddi…. and interrupt a budding romance, or so, I presume.

So I throw caution to wind and gloat over the rosy cheeked couple like a doting granny and wish the interlude blossoms into a full fledged melody.

It’s been more than a week now since her last. B-I-L sternly says, “You should tell her not to park here any more. It’s intrusive.”

I know…But isn’t it fun to watch a blob blooming into a chiaroscuro of colours?

A courtship right in front of my nose?

Fun isn’t it?

I giggle to myself.

Am I not being as intrusive as they are ….?

Love At First Sight


This is in response to Rochelle’s Weekly Photo Prompt for Friday Fictioneers.

Word Count: 100

The road trip to Digha was meticulously planned.

A week’s stay.

The Resort we put up in was close to the sea. We could see it from the balcony and at night go off to sleep listening to it.

It was startling how endless hours passed by watching the waves kiss the shore and then run back to woo the horizon.

It was love at first sight with the blue expanse.

And you.

When it was time to leave I knew the bond was forever.

With the sea.

But

With you… it was not to be.

You can read the other stories here.

Trivia : Described as the Brighton of the East by Warren Hastings in one of his 1780 letters to his wife, Digha is the most visited sea resort/holiday destination in West Bengal.

Wordless Wednesday 17/12/2025


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