GOT A GIFT

Would have loved to get  a gift ,

One that was my heart’s desire.

No one would be able to shift,

Dear precious gift from the mantle fire!

Elaborate packaging of red and green,

Ribbons of yellow like gold  do shine .

From afar,this vantage point is seen,

Up beyond reaching hands of mine!

Letting it sit with a dream inside. !!

While I was responding to writing 201’s word prompt GIFT… and rediscovered acrostics again the idea for this blog post also germinated…

The above poem describes the sheer joy of a small child who receives a gift he or she has so anticipated, but upon receiving it does not for now want to even unravel it. The child knows what the beautiful package holds and that it is now in his possession forever but prolongs the moment of anticipation and actualization.

Gift – the word itself is a bundle of myriad emotions, connotations, mystery, all rolled into one. When we hear the word gift a feeling of happiness envelops us like a warm blanket. Surprise joy pleasure, love, all happen at the same time. Hardly have I ever seen a person whose attention is not hooked instantly on hearing the word.

Butterflies in the stomach..  anticipation and definitely want …to varying degrees as we span the continuum from a child to an adult. Children are so fascinated by gifts ..Christmas, birthdays , any occasion  you name.  some just want to open the rainbow wrappings and see for themselves if it is the latest fad,  a doll , a toy , a video game, maybe a sports gear ,or a branded shoe, chocolates,  maybe just maybe  a book( but the numbers are few and far between). For them the opening of the parcel is the ceremony… tearing the wrapping, getting the first glimpse is the joy. For some the thing inside is the high point. The happiness lies in the possession of the new article. And then there are some who cherish the very thought of being gifted. Like Willie Wonka they tea sure their new possession and savor it for time to come. Then again birthdays are such big occasions… my younger one countdowns months and days from the very next day of his birthday to the next. There would be a number of gifts in between but birthday gifts are special .he often asks me what have I planned for his birthday  and I say”surprise” but that doesn’t deter him. “Okay so what is the surpirise”  … as if I haven’t learnt my lessons until now ..if I tell him ,the surprise is gone and then I have to think of a new one before the big day…so no mister you don’t get to know it yet!

Children aside all adults also love gifts…and god only knows how many of us have fallen into the honeytrap of marketers who very well know how to exploit this emotion. Fill this form and get a surprise gift. Buy the product get a big gift…all too convincing.

But somehow down the line some more parameters have become associated with the bacis joy of gifting…the pricetag , the brand, the status symbol. We live in this material world and as very rightly put by MADDONA…am a material girl, boy boss, family….eyebrows are directly proportionate to the price!!

But all said and done a gift should be appriciated for the very essence of the joy of giving and receiving…. The thought and love that has gone behind selecting the very gift. The joy that it should bring and the humility and pleasure with which it should be accepted!

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It’s all about respect

If I say thank you and please ,That’s because I respect you

If I clean my desk ,that’s because I respect my class

If I straighten my tie, that’s because I respect my uniform

If I polish my shoes, that’s because I respect cleanliness

If I step aside to let the teachers pass, that’s because I respect my elders

If I don’t  shout in the class , that’s because I respect decorum

If I sing the national anthem correctly, that’s because I respect my country

If I make up after a fight, that’s because respect my adversary

If I stand and wait in a queue,that’s because I respect order

Because if I don’t learn to stand for something today,

I will fall for anything tomorrow!

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The wind beneath my wings

Did you ever know that you’re my hero

You’re everything i wish I could be

And I could fly higher than an eagle

If you are the wind beneath my wings!

The strains of this song have always remained with me and so have my teachers. Thankyou , for being the wind beneath my wing, for teaching me to walk, for letting me fly. Continue reading

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my little brother

I had a little brother

Who has now grown so tall

I cant see the toes of him

Or the top at all!

I tried to climb upon a chair

To breathe down his neck

But I had to scamper up the stairs

Oh! what the heck!

When we were small he’d often ask

To do projects and help

And in that glory I would bask

Do my errands I ‘d yelp!

But now he has grown tall you see

I have to look up to him

spreading like a shady tree

The harsh sun seems so dim!

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choose your battles….

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Break the Silence.”    There would have been a million times when I wish I had just said something. Anything, to wipe the smirk from the face.  Just this once I wish I had given a befitting riposte  , turned around with aplomb and walked out of the room leaving behind a dozen gaping mouths almost reaching the floor.

Continue reading

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Saffron White and Green

Sixty-nine years ago, a country with a, glorious gloden past, a country which was put into irons, stifled and subjugated finally managed to unshackle herself and feel the rays of an  independant dawn upon her face almost after two hundred years.

What was once a golden bird again tried to spread her broken wings ,ready to fly out of this cage once and for all.The air that she would now fly in was her own, the trees that now she would rest upon would be her own, the grains she would now feed upon would be her own , the water she would now drink would be her own. So with the first stuttering stumbling steps she tried to fly again for she had to reach for the stars and fall on the clouds to get somewhere and she knew that if she stayed on the ground with the crowd all around she’d get nowhere. So with the wind beneath her wings she started to fly again and grew stronger and stronger and today as she rises above the clouds envious glances often come her way .The air that she flies in is riddled with dangers both seen and unseen  but India flies high and strong.

The 15 th of August is a celebration for all of us Indians. The politico,the glitterati the literate,  the illiterate, the patriot , the unpatriotic, the common man . This celebrations has different connotations, differently interpreted by all. For some it is a well deserved paid holiday because we live in an Independent India, for some  a day to dust out  the politically correct dress and be seen in the correct circles. For some,  day to load the whats app page , Facebook, twitter and other social media with independence day messages and flags, because it is the in thing to do , flaunt your love for the country. But for most of us Indians it is  day of great respect and joy. The date itself  15th August tugs at the heartstrings in a special way like no other. Thousands of tricolours are in the market flying high , children buying tricoloured ribbons, wrist band, pin up flags,  mothers somewhat forcefully preparing tricoloured lunches for their children to take to school . The enthusiasm is so evident in children but there is cynicism also afloat. As we   tend to grow older some how we tend to see just the negativity  all around us. We have started to take this independence for granted. This present generation has not seen the struggle, the pain , the sacrifice ,the blood that anointed this freedom that we tend to  take to last forever .We pay homage to all the sons and daughters who laid their lives for this freedom. The biggest ever non violent revolution that made the world take notice.

Cynicism step aside, there is an Indian  heart beating in every one of the 1.25 billion bodies. The heart that loves the motherland in spite of all shortcomings. the heart that beats in bodies that live beyond her borders. The heart that sings the national anthem with goosebumps  on skin whenever JANA GANA MANA is played in the background.

My heart is so warmed today to see the enthusiasm and fervour with which my younger one made patriotic floats and posters and tricolour bookmarks and my elder one did not once complaint that he had to go  for independence day  celebrations to  school on a  supposed holiday. Let the love for motherland prevail over all else….. I may sound like an incurable romantic patriot….. but then……I am just another Indian woman…..

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For the love of books

yoshasingh

 So first the nosedive and now….freefall !

It is so much more easier to start a new venture than to sustain and keep it afloat.So unlike all my unfinished projects, my intricate embroideries, those massive cross stitch works, those half knit sweaters which my mother and grandmother finally completed, I do want to write this blog. To share my love for reading, to pen down those thoughts that zip across my mind at the most inopportune moments( like when I am teaching my younger one grammar  or tables or reprimanding my maid for the umpteenth time about a chore left undone) . These ideas fly past like snitches from a  Harry Potter movie. Here now and gone the next.

During those so long gone carefree days of school and college I was an avid reader. fiction usually but cover to back cover in one go.  This love for reading was…

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