Meeting His Parents

"I guess it is time for you to meet them", he sipped his coffee gently and looked at her trying to decipher her reaction.

"Time to meet whom", she questioned scanning the menu.

"My parents obviously. You've always asked so much about them. Don't you want to meet them now?"

"Ummm... You know I am a little skeptical. You've known how different we are when it comes to our respective backgrounds. I am not very sure they'll appreciate the fact that we have been together for a while."

"What makes you think so? What matters is where you are right now and not where you were before. At this point of time you have graduated from the same university as I have and that too with a scholarship and grades higher than mine. We both work in MNC's. So right now you are in a better light than me", he smirked stroking her cheek.

"You use silverware at home?"

"Where does that come from?"

"No I saw that in one of your photographs. I mean really? Do you?"

"Well yes we do. You are very observant. You know mum is a little finicky about table etiquette sometimes. But don't you think we should focus on more important things like the questions they might ask?"

"I do not know how to use fork and knife", she declared.

"Most of us don't ", he was still sipping his coffee with the same ease.

"I want to learn. I don't want to appear rustic in front of your parents."

"Huh?"

He was clearly displeased.

"See my parents are not going to judge you. Had you asked me how to use a fork and knife because you wanted to know I would have gladly accepted but then for this reason I am afraid but I am hurt. You are perfect the way you are. You are going to meet them and not please them for God sake."

She shifted uneasily in her chair. She stuck her lower lip out like she always did when she was sad.

"I just wanted to be perfect."

He smiled at her innocence. She was so naive, so child like. Her craze for perfection suited her fierce desire to win under any circumstance, it being the reason for his fatal attraction towards her that resulted in love.

"Okay so you hold the knife in your right hand  and the fork in your left", he gestured using both his hands.

"No no you are wrong. We eat with our right hand so fork should be in the right one na", she seemed visibly confused.

"See the deal is you are a right handed person. You exert more force with your right hand which is necessary to cut the food and that brings us to the conclusion so as to why you hold the knife in your right hand", he smiled victoriously at the show of his knowledge secretly thanking his mother for the grilling table manners.

"Oh!", she hit her head with her palm.

"Now dig deep into the food cutting it with the edge trying to push the other half away."

She stared at him.

"Oh ho see", he held her hand and taught her.

"Hello ma'am and sir", she stammered as she stood in front of his parents wearing her best dress.

His mother engulfed her into a hug and his father wore a smug smile.

"It is lovely to meet you. My son always keeps talking about you. Let's get to the dining room. I have the tea and snacks ready", his mother spoke excitedly.

She felt like that little child who gets nervous before the exam after days of practice and study.

Her mental thoughts were running wild.

*Oh! Sandwitches. Thank God no knife and fork. Wait. Did I say that too early? Why are they using a knife and fork? Oh my God*

She felt someone tugging the hem of her dress only to realize that her love was staring at her.

"Mum is asking you something. Are you okay", he questioned.

"Umm yes yes I am totally fine. It is just that I was lost in some random thoughts. Not that it always happens but then sometimes it does", she was amazed rather ridiculed by her own verbosity.

"It is okay beta. Calm down", his mother said suppressing a  smile.

She fidgeted with the knife.

"So how are your parents?"

She was still busy dissecting the sandwitches pulling it apart like a surgeon operating his patient.

Across the table he could see how uncomfortable she looked. Her entire concentration was on the sandwitch and her way of eating than the conversation. He was slightly amused by her flabbergasted ways but then the fact that she was not being herself bothered him regardless of how funny the situation seemed.

He held his sandwitch in his hand and took a big bite.

"Yum!! It's great mum."

"Why aren't you using the cutlery  darling?"

"Mum it tastes the same without them. Why don't you try it as well", he asked his girlfriend.

She glared at him.

"What? Try it out."

She did the same and smiled.

"Yeah mum was asking about your family", he blurted out.

The conversation went on and on. He winked at her several times secretly giving her thumbs up every time she spoke something really nice. She felt a lot better.

The conversation steered to her family background sooner than she expected.

"Ma'am my father was a government employee and my mother a teacher. We belong to a very humble background. My parents have worked very hard and so have I. We value money and it's origins."

"Oh that is lovely. That is how every girl rather every child should be. Now I know why my son has become so responsible off late. I guess he has credits to do", she raised an eyebrow throwing accusatory glances at her son.

"Well yes mum. She is just so perfect. She was the topper of our batch", he patted her back.

His father who was quiet through out the conversation finally broke his silence.

"He is an impulsive man. How do you manage to put up with his recklessness?"

She blushed a little and cleared her throat.

"The same way he deals with the ignorance of my mind, the insecurities of my heart and the specks of impurities in my soul."

"Our son has grown up. His choice of a life partner makes me proud. Welcome to the family", his father extended a handshake.

She was shell shocked by the sudden change of events. She sucked in breath and smiled confidently.

Back at her home, after changing into her night clothes, she messaged him.

*Thank you. Your parents are really nice. I am a little tired. We'll talk tomorrow. Good night.*

Instantly her cell beeped.

*We wouldn't talk tonight? huh huh Meanie!! Well now that you are officially mine and very soon you''ll be sleeping next to me so I guess one night wouldn't hurt. My parents will be coming over to meet yours tomorrow. Good night.*

She pulled her diary out of her Almira and sat down to write.

It is strange how life decides to teach us different lessons. I vividly remember the first time I met him. I was so judgmental. I always thought people who were rich are mean , obnoxious and have an easy life. I had this strange animosity towards him. But then we started talking. His easy ways, down to earth thinking wooed me. I was smitten by his inquisitiveness. There are many things that I really adore about him. Unlike me he doesn't judge people and has this strange quality of finding the good in people. He is highly optimistic. The best part is that he understands me in and out. Even today just by looking at me he could know that I wasn't comfortable and with so much ease he just solved the problem. This is him. Always standing there to help me out. So many times I have given up hope but he would challenge me yet again, losing at times just to see me win. Male ego is cruel but then I never saw his as if he deliberately killed his ego in order to love me fully. What have I done to deserve him? His love? His care? I wish I knew. It is sheer destiny that I met him. Isn't it? He says I am different and I guess if he says so then I might also be. But then he says only good things about everyone. With him I do not feel the need to put up a pretense or be what I am not. With him , I am me.

Love if I am asked to define would be what I see in his actions more than his words. Love is a verb not a noun . Love is him . And now he is mine. I so wish to laugh and cry at the same time. The absurdity of my statement might amaze you but that is how I feel. He gets my emotions do a salsa. I love him. I do not say that often but I do. And I know that he knows.

Good Night.

She was a Mother after all....

The weather was unusually cold that year. Winters had arrived early. Her bent back pained badly as she crouched on the floor covered with tattered clothes. Winters were the only time she feared death. She did not fear anything other than that. Since the day she entered youth she had seen extreme poverty, so extreme that she fed on garbage for the child in her womb to survive. But she was a fighter. She loved life and more than that her son. Nothing could deter her from surviving. Neither abandonment from her husband two months after marriage nor not being able to get basic necessities of life. She did everything that could get her money. Washing dishes, doing household chores, sewing clothes, picking up plastics and every other small petty task that could fetch her some little amount of money. She worked 24 hours in order to provide her son his few hours of luxuries. Her son totally oblivious to his mother's love spent his day loitering around on the streets with hooligans and creating ruckus in the area they lived.

Somehow for her, her son was perfect. He was the most polite, humble, intelligent person alive on this earth. Such are mothers. They believe in you and your potential when you are sure you don't have any. She doted on her son. Ever she got a complaint from anyone she would defend him over and over. It was her firm belief in him and her upbringing. She knew he couldn't hurt a fly.

But for the past few she had become restless. He was coming home late every night, drunk with staggering legs and body that reeked of the unearthly smell of cheap alcohol. She blamed it all on the bad company knowing deep in her heart who she should have been blaming.

She sat straight in the floor on hearing the door of her small hut opening. She yelled his name but the only response she heard was a blabber. Unclear words out of her son's mouth asking for revenge. She was deeply disturbed seeing him like this.

"Where were you?"

*NO response*

"I asked where you were", she raised her voice.

"Stop asking me useless questions."

"What do you mean by useless questions? I am your mother. I have been seeing you past few days.  I do not work all day to see this. If you bring disgrace to me I will disown you."

"Fine suit yourself. Throw me out."

She stepped back seeing his audacity. She was completely taken aback by his behavior. She again bundled herself in rags and sat on the floor seeing her son sleeping blissfully on the cot.

She remembered the way the son of the lady where she washed dishes was lashing out on his mother for not giving her money to buy something. She shouted at him for misbehaving. But his mother stood still. Now she understood her pain. When your own child takes a plunge to kill your respect, at that time even the hardest heart would stone itself to death. She looked at him with longing in her eyes. How happy she was when he was born. She told everyone around that her child would get her out of misery. She would turn him into an officer. All her dreams appeared shallow and farfetched. Her biggest dream and her biggest joy lay on the cot immersed in alcohol muttering glorious abuses to someone.

She went and gently patted his cheeks. She rummaged her fingers into his hair. She loved him immensely. She would try every bit to change him and reform his ways.

Durga Ashtami was coming. The entire town was bustling with joyous people. She had over timed for past two months to be able to celebrate with great pomp and show. It had grown dark but today she was full of enthusiasm. Chopping vegetables and stirring her son's favorite dessert she felt elated. She'd talk to him about a job she had found for him.

All of a sudden she heard someone hurling abuses. Her house was at the far end and behind it was an extended jungle. She heard a stifled scream. And then the voice of her son.

She went rushing behind her house deep into the woods following the voices when she heard it. She carried the knife with which she was cutting the vegetables along with her sensing some mishap.

"Her mother accused us of stealing, bloody bitch we'd teach her a lesson for life."

"She appears luscious."

She saw her son and another man carrying a young girl of maybe nine or ten. Dragging her along the woods as she cried for mercy and help. Within a second that girl was stripped off her clothes and her son mounted on her. She was stoned. All her upbringing and love for her son felt useless. This can't be my son. No!!

She went ahead and yelled.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The other man tried pushing her away. With all her might she slashed his throat apart. She moved forward to her son.

"Leave the girl."

His son in the moment of extreme anger topped by his desires did not care what his mother was saying. The girl underneath was crying in pain, shouting for help.

"She is someone's daughter as well. This man who is trying to violate her is just another man who the society does not need. Save her", her conscious demanded.

"What will you do with your life without your son? This girl does not mean anything to you but once your son is gone he'd never return", the other part of conscious debated.

She held the knife so firmly that her knuckles had turned white. She said aloud the name of Goddess Durga and attacked her son. She stabbed him several times until he moved off the girl. His son put up a strong fight. She was old yet she did not give up. She kept fighting. She took off her sari and covered the girl.

Her son was taking his final breaths.

"What kind of mother are you? Why did you give me birth if you had to kill me?"

"I gave you birth so that you could give me a reason to live. On the other hand you do not even deserve to be called my son. I can live alone but not with someone who has no humanity."

She spoke with hatred in her eyes. He died. She left him there.

She went to the police station and filed a complaint. The girl next to her was sobbing. She held her and cried. Cried for the loss of her son, her only reason to live. Then she was a protector who'd do anything to protect a girl now she was a mother mourning over her son's death. Her son, her hope, her life and her everything.

A Letter To My love

Dear love

I do not know whether this deserves a letter or not. There have been so many emails in and out, harsh and loud , sweet and soft that perhaps you'll skim your eyes through this one without even knowing how essential it is for you, for me , for everything we have had in the past 2 years 3 months and 21 days.

This is firstly not a love letter, not a hate letter, not a reconciliation nor a threat. Moreover it requires a certain kind of devotion while you read it, so basically do not read it if you lack time. You will get nothing out of it. You'll have to read between the lines at some places, experience what I am experiencing now and yes most importantly drop your ego and anger and accept it with peace. It takes time to do that so you can revisit this letter later when you actually have attained the pre requisites.

Here I will not debate what went wrong or what went right between the two of us. It has been discussed over and over again so many times that we both have a list ready to smash into each other's face with our grudges written over shamelessly. So now we need to know why in the first place it happened. To call it destiny is one way. We both were not seeking love. But then we entered the relationship and discovered that we can love each other with a passion that can bring our world to a halt. We were insanely in love to the point that days like Sundays felt a mere punishment. We were so in ourselves that everything else ceased to matter. Our entire focus was on "us", and our love. We were drowning in passion. Once the initial euphoria gave away. We felt a need to stabilize and with that came a need to possess. Until then we were just loving and after that we started fighting. It was all because instead of loving we wanted to possess each other's soul, body and thoughts. The mere fact that someone else might have a fraction of any of these infuriated our souls to the point that we were ready to give upon everything even our love but not the fact that what we have is ours. We became possessive, territorial( I recently found insecure was a wrong word and because I am sure you would have been checking my wall, I guess you know why it is wrong)

Our fights grew. Our longing to protect what was ours was taking over our sanity. We used each and every moment trying to assure ourselves that we belonged to each other yet we were always uncertain. Always suspicious.

What worse could have happened? You would have fallen in love with someone else and I would have with some other man. What would have happened next? As the initial honeymoon period of that love would have faded away we would have realized that something is missing. The connection. Think for yourself when was the last time you barred your soul in front of someone to the extent that you were not ashamed of doing anything in front of them? Was it me or someone else? When was the last time you could tell someone precisely how you felt in words that you knew wouldn't matter? Was it me or someone else? I have a place in your life , your heart, your body like no one else. A place that is solely mine and shall remain unclaimed. The exact same goes for your position in my life. We may love again, go naked and make out with anyone else. But to bare the secrets we hold in our heart would be difficult.

We simply forgot that love knows no conditions nor does it have demands or just plain aggressiveness. We behaved as if all our etiquette were taken away from us.

Heetesh and Kanikaa got back after one year. Kanikaa had another relationship so did Heetesh but today when I saw them again they had the same fire, the same passion, the same love and even more in their eyes than ever before. Maybe it took them a year to understand that perhaps they can't live without each other.

Sometimes all it takes is some little time to understand what we require and what we want.

We have to move away. There is no way out of this turmoil. We have to quit it because it is ugly. This is not for what we entered each other's lives. We need love and not the hatred that has seeped in. It might take days, months even years or forever to understand if we want and require each other.

I have dreams so do you. They differ. But does that mean we'll undermine the sheer possibility of making them come true?Why do we have to compete with each other's dreams? Why couldn't we support them. Why did our insecurities take better of our love and leave the bitter.? My feelings for you are intense and now I cannot refuse to acknowledge them rather I have to or else they'll consume me.  I love you. Yes I again admit that after days of not talking to you. I LOVE YOU. But that does not mean we have to tie a knot now. Yes I have been particularly crazy about marrying you because I have always dreamt of calling something mine. Only mine. And I thought it can be you. But because I can see it clearly you don't want to be one , it will be someone else but does that mean I should stop loving you?

Even if it does I can't. It is not in my control. And that is why I went away and distanced myself. I can't see you getting any worse. I can't see you disrespecting me. You said I look sad, Yes I do because that is what has remained after so many evil fights we have. I am wearing out every moment. My heart is scared to invest anymore.

Let me leave with an image of yours that I can save in my heart and reminisce over when I am older. I want that image to be of a loving man. Someone who would never leave my side. You are that someone to me. It is difficult to live without you but it is more difficult to live with you. You reside in me yet there is a void.

You need to know that we have loved a lot, its time to let each other go and invade our spaces with other things so that either we realize that we need each other or we find something that makes us realize why we don't need each other. Something of the two will happen.

Take care.

I send your heart to you. And I am taking back mine. The memories are at your disposal. Keep them or erase them. It is your wish. Call it my overconfidence but I know my place shall remain unconquered for the next 2 years. Maybe after that someone can but not atleast for the next two years.

I want you to succeed anyhow. You are not in my wishes but in some unsaid prayers.

Let us dream, let us rejoice for after some years it will be too late to find time to do so.

Yours in my own kind of way

She hit the send button hoping this would ease the pain she felt.