The Daughter

Born – burden

Mistakes – immense

Joys – unnecessary

Aspirations – unrealistic

Sorrows – overemphasis

Responsibilities - more

Dreams – impractical

Speech – unworthy

Strengths – negligible

Weaknesses – innumerable

Experiences – inconsequential

Marriage – relief

Death – happiness

Hairy Tale

     I have been one of those people blessed with thick, black, wavy hair. Even when I cut it short, it grows back to waist-length in approximately a year or so. So when I first heard about Pantene’s hair donation campaign last year, I was instantly inspired. I knew such a phenomenon existed in the West as I had a cousin who frequently chopped off his locks for such a cause. It was the first time I came to know about such a campaign in India but unfortunately I could not cut my hair in time. I searched the net then to find someone who would accept my hair. The agency I found in Mumbai did not seem reliable to me and I was wondering what to do.

     Then one day, I attended a media workshop at St. Teresa’s College and in the newsletter I got from them, I read about their hair donation campaign. On further investigation I found the project was to my satisfaction and now I could finally do the deed. So I ran through the instructions and then approached my beautician. It was her first time but she did it a beautiful job of splicing of my hair in one go (I hadn’t read the instructions thoroughly unfortunately and it should not be cut off at one chop but 3/4 ). She styled my hair well and I was ready to face the world.

     I got all kinds of reactions: from the depressed (my dad) to the compliments (friends), from horrified (uncle) to the ‘you should have shaved’ (hubby). But I felt good having a maintenance free hair after so many years. Plus now I was getting loads of compliments where before I just used to look frazzled.

     But mailing it became a problem. The post office said they wouldn’t accept it as I had told them what it was when asked. I finally couriered inserting my own number with the address as they needed to contact someone. The lady there was most obliging when I explained the matter to her and helped me out.

     Just recently I was told my hair is already on its way to becoming a wig. So yes I did get to do something nice for Christmas 2013 which will bring a smile to someone’s face, someone who needs it. And next Christmas I hope I can bring another smile when I donate my hair again (hope it grows back completely by then).

     I only wish more people would join the cause since I pass people everyday who have long hair that only hampers them and adds little to their lives. With my short story I hope I inspire more of you to help another being like you live a seemingly normal life. 

Clipped Wings

You decided I must be born - I was.

You decided I shouldn't shed tears - I didn't.

You decided I was your punching bag - I complied.

You decided I would grow unattended - I grew.

You decided to shower me with abuse - I listened.

You decided my talents were worthless - I nodded.

You decided my spotless skin was ugly - I agreed.

wingless     shelterless     abandoned       bleeding      depraved       joyless

I look at you

It was never me. It was you.

An Illumination

Raindrop on my camera lens

hankies wet with humidity

we trudge an unfamiliar road

to find a place, highly recommended.

Backyard Civilization's art gallery

Up the silent stairs

into the artists’ foray

shoes off

our lives left on hold at the entrance

we behold:

Part of series of paintings entitled "Fool's Garden"

gardens of extraordinary colours,

peopled with fools from varied ages,

Part of painting on paper entitled "Time wounds all heals"

and heels wounded by time

having stepped on seeds of different generations.

The virtues of a village

Tea-stained pencil work about replanting the virtues of a village

captured our imagination

as they walked past us

to a new location, a new destiny.

Our eyes were drawn away

to the warm welcome of a fur ball

Resident at the gallery examines our bags

following an inspection of our luggage

and begging for a caress.

Only to be drawn back to an explosion

of colour and design -

mesmerizing psychedelic art.

Though bats fluttered by

they were second to the dismembered limbs

pulled apart by a generation of women

without thought or virtue.

Derrida continued to contemplate on us

Painting of Derida

As we examined Humpty Dumpty before the fall

Series of drawings loaned for the exhibition by Jidhil. Top right corner reminded me of Humpty Dumpty.

and emerged with a new set of feathers.