They fought like cats like dogs. Never agreed on anything. Never had anything in common. Never ending arguments. Too high expectations. However, they had mutual respect and unexpressed love deep within. And that day happened, when he asked her out. Walking on the shore as their feet felt the grains of sand, holding arm in arm. She looked at him ,at his soft eyes. She saw untold love, since then time and again she offered her lips to him. Having forgotten their differences.
CCD was their regular meet spot. Like every other day she sent him a text. Expecting him while she sat in her cozy corner couch. The waiter recognized her with a friendly smile.He wondered how she never gets tired of ordering Devils Own every single day. Her gaze then shifted to her mobile screen waiting for it to flash his name. Also,she constantly glanced at the door hoping to catch a glimpse of his face which would bring a smile on hers. The mobile flashed. But,this time it was her mother on call asking her where-abouts. On the other end her mom sighed after she hung her daughters call. Meanwhile, the devils own was placed on her table. She melancholy smiled at the sight of the drawn milk heart on her coffee. She hesitated to stir the coffee.
Her phone never blinked for the last one hour now. She took her cup and stirred the heart being lost in her own thoughts. Alone. He never turned up even today. Like yesterday. Like days before that. Like the last four and a half months. He never ceased to disappoint her.
This post is a part of an initiative by Chennai Bloggers’ Club. Around 30+ bloggers have written about “ What Chennai Means to Them” . You can read a wonderful post on the same written by Rama here who passed the wand to me. Thank You ..
I was a home bird and did not want to step out of my comfort zone till I was done with my school. And I opted for colleges in my hometown, but my dad insisted that I come out of my cocoon and got me enrolled in an engineering college in Chennai. I called it quits couple of times and ran away home to stay back there. But every time I went home I had my dad to bring me back like a boomerang. But today, I do not want to leave this city for thousand reasons I could think of. Thanks to my dad …
Every time I drive in the city, I recollect my treasured memories associated with every street, every hotel and every roadside tea shop. This city taught me everything one would need-right from friendship,love,humanity,adventure,music,movies,book and what not. I grew to be a better person only in this city.You can read about the food specialties of Chennai here.
The best thing I love about Chennai is that it’s the safest city of all. Unless you mess with anyone or anything this place is safe like your home. I feel nostalgic when I think of the corner seat in coffee shop at ispahani center, the pani puri stall/guy opposite to Little Italy,the morning walks in marina beach, the drive to Eliot’s every weekend, Easwari lending library, Primas Bakery,St.Theresa’s Church,S.V Sekars dramas in Vani Mahal,R J Balaji,Sathyam theatre’s creamy donut and the haram pants from spencer plaza.
My golden period of my life was spent in this blessed city and I would cherish all the memories I have of it. Chennai might not be perfect, but I would still love it with all its flaws.
It feels home to be in this city.
Now I pass this over to Sulaiman Sait who loves poetry of all forms.
There I walk with my daughter with our fingers entwined dearly. I march beside her with my head up as a proud father. She accepted the guy whom I believe would be the best for her. I have treated her like a princess since the day her mother brought her to this world. I hope this guy whom I have found treats her the same way and that they would have a happily ever after. There he waits, who would be my son-in-law in few minutes and with whom my dear daughter would share the rest of her life. He is gentle and his smile says it all. I am happy I found him.
I here stand clad in my wedding suit. There she walks with her dad clasping his hand firmly like there is no tomorrow. She looks better in this white saree. Maybe sarees have slimming effect on woman. And I hope my intuition in choosing her doesn’t prove me wrong. Will she accept me and my family as we are? Will she embrace our differences and grow together with me? God, bless this wedding and make it a successful one.
The girl attired in her white saree: Dad seems to be happy. I could sense his pride which has brought a small curve on his lips and crinkles the corner of his eyes and they seem to glisten in happiness . Dad has always been my hero and I don’t remember the last time he has made a bad decision. And I blindly trust him on this decision of his. He can’t be wrong. Dad turns his head to look at me and I see the smile that ends in his eyes. And his smile is damn contagious and I start smiling too. Boy , here I come to you. It will never go wrong I say.
Hi guys I have a breaking news… I am getting married (now don’t roll your eyes to heaven questioning me if it’s breaking news, to me-it is!!!)
Yeah my parents have been pushing me into this arranged marriage for quite a long time and it seems that I have finally heeded to what they had to say. More about him in my later posts cos I am yet to know him better. For now, he reminds me of Mouna Ragam Mohan . Mature, calm, easy going and does anything for his woman’s happiness though he maintains his gethu. In other words, if all other guys whom I know were like colorful crackers which went high with bright colors and thup thup sounds, he seems to be like glowing steady lamp in the darkness and I hear “om” chants one would listen when you meditate.
Okay so coming back, I behave like a samathu daughter in law (maybe it comes naturally). I have been throwing continuous tantrums at home and that’s when I release that I am really really getting married. And people around me very often get emo and I fail to understand the reason. Mom gets senti almost every night and I do not know how I am supposed to deal with that. So I echo hello thrice and disappear next second blaming my bad phone network. Ask my mom and she would not recommend my phone network to anyone.
Meanwhile,there is a shopping spree going on which makes me believe that 24 hours a day is not enough.Salwars, sarees, gold, footwear and a lot more. Nobody denys anything I ask for. And dad has generously deposited his money on my bank account which is steadily declining everyday. You have to see the people in jewelry shops which makes me believe that gold must be cheaper than coriander leaves.
And I did not know that there were so many varieties in saree. Tussar silk, silk cotton, benaraes silk,mysore silk , soft silk and the list keeps growing. So I simply got one in all of them. And then it started for my whole family and surprisingly my sister, my mom and even my pakatu veetu aunty has got max number of sarees than the bride itself. . .cruel world. Tch tch.
On top of this, I have to deal with annoying tailors, select my cake structure designs, prebridal work and also remain sane and decent at the same time. Somebody please teach me that magic.
And I go mad with the number of advices I receive every day. It’s like (5*number of people I meet every day). How am I supposed to store all of it in this peanut sized brain?
And also the attention and pamper I receive makes me drown in happiness. Overwhelmed,ectasy and I rise and fall down the sine curve of emotions for every half an hour. I need a hide out…
My birthday came and went and surprisingly I have got three recipe books as my birthday gift. And the common interesting note which did strike me was that I have cooked lunch for all the three. What am I to infer from that? Anyways I went through all the recipes and bookmarked all the good looking dishes.
Apart from it, I got so many other gifts and that’s the best part I liked in my birthday except for the French loaf chocolate cake and my green sari which was also part of the gifts I received. And a special birthday surprise from THE HUSBAND GUY. How I wish we had two birthdays in a year.
And the most annoying of it all is when someone asks me why have I settled in for an arranged marriage. For those, i ve never trusted myself in finding Mr. Right and I needed help and my parents rescued me.
Talking about murphy’s law, I have all the cute and super model crushes talking to me now. I was in the same floor all these days.. sigh 😦
Also, I was sent to a pre wedding class handled by the church and they easily spoke with ease on how to make babies. I simply gaped at them with my mouth like a gold fish. I set my life time goal the next minute- have three kids and raise them into good human being thereby adding to the population explosion. Finally I have my own goal…
Conclusion: Marriage is a funny business. Agree? No agree? Tell me what you think and don’t forget to wish me good luck dears 🙂
She seems to be a happy cool person who has been blessed with everything a 25 year old would need. She was told her friends wished she was her cos her life was simple and easy. She was the one who got everything she wished when breathed a word of prayer. She was the one who had the best people around her, who never treated her less than a princess. She seemed to be excited about everything and had no regrets in life. She seemed like her life was full of fun with her fading sense of humor she once had. She always stood for her friends and family and listened to them crib about their own lives and said what they wanted to hear. She was a people pleaser and people liked to hang around with her for her positive energy. They needed her.
Result: overdose of people in her life.
But deep within she is a miserable loser, who never did what she wanted, who still wonders what she wants in her life, who constantly thinks of a reason for her living, who is more confused than an average confused person, who talks more inside her head, who writes in her small note which she carries always, to whom death scares the hell out of her and who doesn’t stay home alone. But she wears her brave and strong face mask always. Her heart is well hidden inside the metal corset and even her dear ones fail to study her thoughts. Little did she know that these people were going to be her biggest disappointment in her whole life. The bolster- that’s what one of her friend called her for she was beaten, thrown away and hugged –only when needed by her so-called-people.
Lately she has been feeling depressed. Not for her own life for it still remains perfect, at least she believes to be it. Her weak heart has reached the saturation point and the bolster has started to rip apart. She ends up crying for long hours after she hangs up her friends call. She weeps her lungs out for them. She is not able to stand their pain anymore and she chokes to death and wakes up with a bitter feeling every morning constantly worrying about her dear ones. She wants a shoulder to whom she can cry and who would just listen to her without judging her. Who would not call her weak hearted, who would not ridicule at her stupidity and who would say exactly what she wants to hear. She scrolls down her entire phone contacts and cries not able to find that right person. Thats when her blog comes to her rescue…
Well I do have followers here now 🙂 It’s not that am a newbie to blogging… I have my established blog in cognizant network and 100+ people following my blog. And most of them know me by now- blame facebook and office communicator. You can read my archived posts where I have handpicked a few from my rant space there.. I desperately need a space where could start fresh all over again. And I believe I am in the right track by being here.
And thank you everyone who has followed me here, I would do something special for you all very soon 🙂
And I read in Susan’s blog of how she misses a hand written letter which made me watch P.S I love you for the nth time again and made me crave even more for a letter. I don’t remember the last time I got a hand written letter delivered to me with my name on it. The letters I get these days are mostly from the bankers or my tata photon plus people. I don’t remember the last time I held a letter with a curious mind which could not wait to know what’s written inside.
Call me romantically miserable. But I dutifully wait for a surprise letter which would make feel high. I do not care what it would hold—even a “take care” would make me look at it and touch the words a hundred times. And am very sure even the boring minute details would sound interesting when it comes to a handwritten letter. I want the letter to be more than a 10 marks question in the English exam. I wonder why I haven’t implemented what I was taught even for once in my life.
I remember writing to my cousin when we were young and the lovely wait for weeks for her to write back. But these days we are online almost every minute and have nothing to talk about. I even once subscribed to penpals section on Gokulam –the kids magazine and exchanged letters with another random kid from the magazine. Those days could never be back.
I carve for the nostalgic feeling when you hold a letter in your hand, with your name on the address and keenly look at how well the letters have been clinging on to each other. The blue inland letter, the stamp. Did the sender use a writing pad, how good is the handwriting, the smell of paper and ink, did he use a camel glue or fevistick to paste the stamp? The way words are written,how does he fold the envelope? how does he address me? Dear? Sweety?how it ends? with love? Miss you? hugs and kisses? forever yours?
I would like to receive one such letter.
Maybe I should start by sending out one.. Maybe I will have to Google down my closest post office…