Ishithaa

“Maaaaaaaa! Gueshh what I got” my little birdie chirped in her ever pleasing sing song voice. “Hmm.. what is it baby?” “Gueshh naaaa…” the birdie’s voice is gaining frequency the minute. She is every bit her father’s daughter – loving, raucous and edgy. Looking up at her from the book I am reading, see that her tiny little hand is all balled up into a tight fist and is outstretched towards me. “Is it a button?” She loves picking up these things from wherever she can. “No” “Hmm.. is it a marble?” “No…” “Then is it..’” “Never mind maa, I will show you” and she opens up her fist with a broad smile to show these precious petals from a rose flower, blood red in colour. I am at a loss at what to tell her. Do I tell her that a plant is a living being, and that she is not supposed to hurt another living thing? But how could - I - who kills cockroaches and mosquitoes, eats non vegetarian food – tell my daughter that it is wrong hurt another living be...

More than being a post, this is more of a note to myself - the things I would want to do in life... no, this is not my bucket list, though I do like   that movie .  This is not a complete list, I will add to it as and when I find something worthy of being included in my dream list ;)

Pic Courtesy Fotolia This blue doorway was her favourite. It was in front of these very same doors he went down on one knee- like the typical hero in her romance novels, and asked her if she would marry him. He seemed least bothered about the onlookers gawking at them from every window, and across the street.

Her room was locked; she was nowhere to be found. We had already searched the classrooms, the auditorium, the library, the canteen – everywhere there were chances of finding her. The time was already getting late for the hostel gates to be shut, and she was nowhere to be found. Her roommate had no idea where Priya was. Someone remembered that she always carried her mobile wherever she went; we now tried to reach her by phone.