Old writings

By -

Reading your own old writings could be so relaxing. It’s like you’re having a conversation with yourself.

**As I come out of the shower, I see my granny sitting outside and actually enjoying the hot air specially after a cold Indian night, knitting a purple sweater, probably to gift someone. The way her wet shiny white hair form a coordination with one another, letting the fresh air dry it. The way she knits without her spectacles on. The way that Purple coloured something seems to be forming a new big shape every two minutes, having started from just a woolen thread and now turning into a cloth. A cloth that’ll provide someone with warmth and her love in cold, inspires me. Despite everything.**

I read this prose as I go through my old writings. Automatically, my mind compared my granny back then and now. I miss her. She’s been one strong pillar in our lives, my life. I recall the times when she stood by me in the same bedroom when I studied for 10th grade board exams, how she explained to me the importance of being prompt and dedicated to your work, just as she had been, I thought in mind.
Age changes a person. A person grows. It’s growth and at times, it scares me because I think the time should stop and growth should procrastinate itself. A strong pillar as she is, I am in real sense blessed to have met her; being related by blood has only been a reason or coincidence.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Of Moving Forward- Part II

By -
Image
Sitting here, I wonder if it's about seeing in the mirror and liking what I see. 'Your eyes speak', they say. With every look of myself I get everytime I see, they, my eyes, seem to want to confront me. With all my honesty, I say, I run away from them. I try to. But the next time, everytime, it's a sensation of their coming toward me more hurriedly. They must be knowing the truth behind all the lies under the Sun I may have happened to tell myself in order to keep going. It's what I am used to do. To keep going, not knowing how far but far still. I am not used to the comfort there is in stopping for a moment or two. The comfort doesn't comfort me enough, although the view of it I get is inviting and tempting. I do not like the idea of walking the carpet that could take me somewhere I may be told I could dream. It doesn't completely satisfy me, being somewhere for a long time where there is everything I like. Going somewhere for a while where they may
Read more

Some time off

By -
That moment arrives when a normal day starts feeling like a storm all around you. The air feels cruel. The winds, even more. You hurt. It doesn't go away. It troubles you outwardly. Your head feels empty, but gets heavier every minute. The weight of never-ending thoughts, insecurities and the fear. You try badly for this storm to stop. You try not to let anything enter your mind for you know you'll have to pay for it. But what you avoid, identifies you. What you're supposed to be like, kills you somehow. Every thought leads you back to that same place. You long. You hurt. Like a beggar. Full of regrets. Full of what ifs and buts. You're nothing inside but everything inside you is just too much that you feel the space isn't enough. You feel weightless. But it feels like the burden is breaking you and pushing you down the floor, deep down the tiles of your room and even the sand thereafter. You don't stop trying but the storm always wins. Like it has won, r
Read more

Smokes in the air

By -
Image
Maybe this is because life currently has become steadily non-happening and so I walk in circles these days, without coming to a halt. I find myself sleeping for more hours than I usually do and probably need. I must be going to sleep feeling longing for something or nothing at all for I feel even number when I wake up. I have things to do but I've kept most of them away for a while. I have friends to meet but I don't go out lately. When I do, its with my cousin brother. The fresh street and head lights add a specific feel to the pretty, happy and busy faces I see on my way and I am just shown another side of my mood that doesn't last long; a feeling as I reach home, knowing I'll again be the same person enjoying solitude. The time spent playing old games with the ones I have blood relations with put me at ease somehow and I suddenly miss my family. My own people. They're there in front of me but I end up missing them more than ever. I remember how I was brough
Read more