Hobbies

My hobbies you ask?
It's quite a task,
To jot those down

Many many things
The mind springs
My  thoughts count

Many books I read,
I love to eat
To Curl my toes and sleep

I love to sing
My steps have a spring
To discuss many issues deep

I cook and I clean
I dress and I preen
I love to incessantly shop

To define what I am
My dulls and my glam
The keys have gone hippety hop

I travel and I drive
To be  fit I strive
Gifts, I like to give

I laugh and I cry
Every moment I try, life
To the fullest to live 😊😊😊

The tree in the show

I was a tree in a show.
When all else were kings and queens,
And were soldiers brave.
I was the tree in that show.

 

When they spoke, sang,
Walked, ran, fought,
Discussing things grave,
I was the tree in that show.

 

They sang and danced.
Romanced poetic lines.
Voices showing shades of gray
I was a tree in that show.

 

I stood one side, gentle.
My body brown with a cap of green.

Some eyes may have caught the sway

Of the only tree in the show

 

But not once that day, or ever in time
I felt low or any less.
I learnt each part as I gently swayed,
Being the only tree in that show

 

When the knight rose to kill the king
With wild passion in his eyes
The audience breath for a moment stayed,
Forgetting the tree in the show

 

Forget he did, the knight his lines
Wild passion turned to panic
Before the stammer could hit his lips
Loudly swayed the tree in the show

 

I whispered the knight, the part I knew
The lines brought back the passion
The king was killed without any slips,

I was a still tree in that show
I was still a tree in that show

 - Piyu

Lazy Saturday

When the lazy sun refuses to wake up
Nudging the floating clouds with his toe,
When the quilt envelopes the whole wide bed
Hiding even the truant pillow
On such a wintry Saturday
With a cup of steaming tea
I curl my toes into the warmth
And switch to the dreamy me.
Oh ! I know the dreary workload
The relentless adult rules
I know the muddle of responsibilities
Understand that I wear big shoes.
But till my tea is still hot
And sun still hides his head
Give me a few more dreamy moments
In my quilt covered , still warm bed

-Piyu

She is free

The diya shone bright in it's reflection in her eyes
The watery sheen making the flame dance
The bangles jingled as she lit up the room, A happy premise
To the festive spirit, that was today a tangible romance.

She, of the eversmiling clan, working her way from day to night
She, of the crushed spirit clan, never sharing her soul's plight

She , who hides well, it's an art mastered
Her life oscillates between alone and lonely,
The unacknowledged pain behind the smile plastered
She, who radiates happiness, yet her thoughts are her's only

She wills to fly,
To flee, to run
To wing the sky
To be the sun

The diya shone bright in it's reflection in her eyes
With her soul , with herself, she is in love today.
The bangles jingled as she lit up the room,
a happy premise.
She needs no one, she is free, a dove today.

Imagaria

Imagaria

PART 1

“Chocolate.”

The colour of her eyes is melted, gooey, dairy milk chocolate, which sticks to my fingers as I pry it from the foil wrap. Most would say brown, but for me, Pari’s eyes are….. chocolate. I have known those eyes when they were crinkly five year old and I have seen them grow up to steal a million hearts. I have seen them light up with laughter and I have seen them flash with anger. Pari’s eyes are her best feature, her tiny pixie like nose, a bit upturned and her rosebud mouth, completes my world.

I clutch my head in frustration. What the hell am I doing ? She is not mine. Never was. What am I doing sitting here in this restaurant alone, staring at Pari ? She, who is oblivious to me. She, whose heart would break if she knew I was here, looking at her.

My heart constricts, as if in physical pain as she turns her chocolate eyes towards Samar. Eyes, which today, are radiating love.

I have known Paridhi since forever.  We are immediate neighbours and have been to the same playschool, school and college. I have played as much doll house with her as she has cycled around with me. I have seen her fall in and out of love and she has hidden my ciggies from my mom. For her, I am her constant. For me, she is my world.

I have lived in perpetual hope. Still do. That one day, Pari would give up her experiments in love. That one day, I would have the courage to rock the boat. That one day….she would notice that my eyes are brown too.

Pari has become an obsession with me since Samar has entered her life. The suave, dashing Samar, with his MBBS degree and eloquent oratory skills. I could literally see Pari fall head over heels. Sadly, I could also see Samar fall for her. How can I stop the tide ? How can I change the course of events ? It’s led me to this sorry state where I have taken to stalking her every move. I loathe myself for this behaviour. My subconscious  refuses to talk to me. I am moving as if pulled by an invisible black force into a black hole of my making.

Pari gets up slowly, elegantly. Everything about her is elegant. Her pearl white dress, minimalistic accessorization….grace and elegance in each movement of her body. Pari gets up and starts moving my way. She hasn’t seen me yet. It would be disastrous if she did. I can’t tear my eyes from her yet I need a quick exit. I signal the boy,  “ Can you direct me to the restroom?” “ It’s straight down the corridor to the left sir.” He replies with a polite smile. I make my exit just before Pari’s chocolate eyes land on my vacated seat.

In the washroom I sit down on one small bench kept near the door. My head falls into my hands. Despair washes over me. What am I doing ? I need to speak to Pari. I have to tell her. It’s either this way or that. Rage replaces despair. If there was one thing I could do without fear of discovery, it would be to get rid of Samar. Wishes…the bubbles surround me…bursting slowly, one by one.

I get up to splash some water on my hot face. The water is cool, washing away some gloom. I raise my eyes to the mirror, and there is a different face staring at me from it !!! 

The scream in my mind doesn’t reach my lips before I pass out……

PART 2

I have woken up. It’s just too bright. I close my eyes again. Slowly prying them open one by one. Where am I? Am I alive ? Am I dead ? Is this what afterlife feels like? It’s white and yellow around me. Light and light and more light everywhere. I get up slowly. My body seems fine, just a little lighter maybe ? Where am I ? What is this place ?

I can see someone coming towards me ? He is walking or gliding ? and why is he glowing ? Is this indeed heaven? Can a person die by a Ghost and land up in heaven ? The feeling of panic mixed with incredulity seeps into me.

The gliding fellow comes closer. He seems like a regular college kid up close. “ Whassup mate ?” his question surprises me , yet puts me at ease. “ You a newbie ?”

“ I guess so.” I proffer. “What is this place ? Am I dead ?”

“Nah ! not so soon…but  you are stuck though.” He scratches his oddly glowing head. “ This is Imagaria, matey. You are in a world behind the mirror.”

“WHAT ???” My pitch rises . “ Don’t bullshit me kid. This is no magic land!”

“ No it isn’t, sweets. It’s pure, random bad luck. We are super unlucky to have landed in front of a mirror during a flicking.”

“ What’s a flicking ?” I am slowly drawn into this absurdity, which is my life right now.

“ Flicking is a prearranged, time in front of  mirror at which the person outside gets switched with the person inside. It’s the only way you can enter or leave Imagaria. The mirror and the time are absolutely random…so you could land up in a different continent altogether ! Or, you could land up back in your room. Like I said, It’s a matter of pure, random , chance.”

“And how do I arrange this flicking ? Can I even do that ? Or it happens on its own?” the absurdity has given way to incredulous acceptance.

“ Ahhhhh ! for that you need Harry, matey! I can get you there. I am Rob by the way…been here a while. No plans to leave yet. I can help you though. Follow me around slowly. Just be careful to remain with the light rays….you are an image now !”

“ Image ? like a real, erect, virtual, inverted sort ?”

“Yup. Seems like you got your physics right ! To Harry’s then ?”

I follow Rob down long rays of light. Keeping in mind not to stray away from the rays. I see more and more images around. Kids, old men, women, girls, all gliding around. Some together, some disjointed.

“Here we are matey. Harry is to be found at the intersection of this ray.” Rob glides away jerking his head towards me once.

I continue along the ray, till I spot someone ahead. It’s a girl. Bright, iridescent, all colours of the spectrum in her dress. Every possible metallic hue on her body. She is dressed very oddly in pyjamas and a short colourful blouse. Every odd accessory possible is adorning her.

“Where can I find Harry?”

“And who may you be?” She asks in the sweetest voice.

“I am Abhy. I am new to Imagaria” She is too dazzling for me to look continuously at her.

“Abhy, Welcome! I am Harry. Harry Potter.”

“WHAT ? Are you serious ? What rubbish is this man ?” I cannot understand the frustrated giggle which is escaping fro me.

“Yeah. I Didn’t like my name…so decided to take on Harry Potter instead when I landed here. Have always liked the bloke.” She matches my giggles. “You seem interesting Abhy. Never felt my heart flutter before. Can you feel the flutter too?”

Whoa ! that’s a bit too strong. Is she kidding? Making fun of my ‘newbie’ status ? Or is there a genuine twinkle in her eyes?

What am I doing? I need to find a way out of this place. Not go wondering about the fluttering of the heart of girls who call themselves Harry Potter.

“I need to get back out , Harry. You’ve got to help me. .”

“I can and I will. It may take a couple of years though. You will need to collect enough photons to buy the ticket to the lit fest. Then too you must be really lucky to have your name lit up in the randomizer.”

“You mean to say, I am stuck here for years…and the way out is a matter of random chance?” I am delirious by now.

“That would be a fair assessment.” Harry Potter gives me her sweetest smile

PART 3

Harry is lying by my side. We are carefully poised at the intersection of four light rays, which allow us to be together. Harry has followed me around like a besotted pup for a while now. She never wants to go back out. She is happy here. She helps people collect floating photons. Enrols them for the lit fest. Claps the hardest when their names shine in the randomizer, then helps them find the right spot for flicking. She also helps the images avoid the tongs. The vicious images who snatch away people from the flicking spots to put their people in.

It’s a strange tranquil world. There is nothing to do but float around in hope that there would be a flicking chance soon enough.

I lay thinking of Pari. Has she missed me all these days ? Is Samar still around? Is she still thinking of me…or is it out of sight, out of mind.

“Abhy ? You know how I never want to leave this place right ?” Harry asks.

“Hmmmm. So?” I am distracted

“You know, with the years of helping I have done, I can leave whenever I want , without the Randomizer lighting my name.”

“Really? This is news to me Harry.” I am interested now. “ So, why don’t you?”

“Never found a reason to go back. But if you agree to flick with me together, maybe I can think of it….” Harry is soft, hesistant in her request.

I see her sincerity. It scares me. It baffles me. I have grown to be fond of this oddly kind girl. Do I really matter so much to her ? Can I give her back what she is offering to me?

I search within myself. Self doubt rears its head, I crush it. The devotion I see in Harry is beyond what I have felt from anyone in my life. I am sure I can give it a try. Maybe this is what destiny has in store for me.

I say yes.

The light in Harry’s eyes are brighter than the rays surrounding us.

We run hand in hand to a premarked flicking spot for Harry. She is happy, incandescent, iridescent in her beauty. 

We wait by the mirror. Someone is approaching…

I observe him carefully as he walks to the door. I know that time is running out yet I suppress the urge to check my watch. I take a deep breath and start counting in reverse under my breath. "Ten, nine, eight, seven..."

He looks into the mirror…It is SAMAR…………………..

কথা ও আমি

কিছু কথা যেন মনের কোণে ঘর করেছে।
যাবে না কোথাও ,
তারা পণ নিয়েছে।
আঁধারে, ভোরে, যখন চোখ খোলে না,
তারা ঘুম তাড়াবে,
তাই ভেবেছে।
একান্তে কিংবা অনেক ভিড়ের মাঝে
তারা হটাৎ মনে টান দেবে,
তারা তাই চেয়েছে।
কিছু কথা যেন আমার মনের চির সাথী
উঠতে,বসতে, চোখের চাওয়ায়
তারা বাসা বেঁধেছে।

Lost

It's water under the bridge
Long lost, long gone
Yet like a faint fragrance
It lingers on...
On days of mellow dreams,
With a sleepy surprise
The distant pull on the heartstrings
Just intensifies
The branches are no longer close
They have changed their twine
Then why do the roots yet,
Refuse to unwind ?
The rose has long since died
The petals are gone too
It's just the haunting fragrance.....
The fragrance of you.

Of friendships and distances

There is a tear threatening to overwhelm
There is soft mist in the eyes
There is a smile which is oddly plastered
As we say our goodbyes.

'It is not the end' , we say.
'How can true love ever die ?'
Yet, the devil puts in the doubt,
Isn't it all a lie ?

We cling on a little longer
We hold on very tight
As if the mind is denying
To let go out of sight

Those sudden hugs and smiles
Those rolling of the eyes
The hidden meaning of small talk
The totally faked surprise

All come back rushing to the mind
As we slowly pull apart
And we cling back together again
Nestling in each other's heart.

Soured

There are times

When I wonder,

Trying to understand

I ponder,

On what went wrong

A friendship soured

With wilted edges

Reasons unknown

For forgotten pledges

Of a lost song

Seen a time when

I was the confidant

Seen the days

Lively and vibrant

So full of love and joy

Now is the time

When I am a stranger

Knocking on closed doors

Posing a danger

Memories to destroy

Time on rent

A thousand thoughts shared
Some spoken, some not
Not an emotion spared
Happiness to distraught
Eyes welled with tears unshed
Genuine pleasure, some smiles
Books, some read, unread
Destiny beyond time and miles
A million things left to say
Taking personal time on rent
Look forward to many a day
With a stolen time so well spent !

Piyu

Reversal

I have often felt sad
In the past not far
Been very upset with God.
Coz the lack of a girl,
A fairy, an angel
Had my mind devoured.
Those little ballerinas
Who played downstairs
Thier hair with pink slides
Had me rivetted
With stars in my eyes
At their dainty lil fights.
Of pink and purple
Of silver bells
Of pretty makeup and shoes
Of tinsel town
And disney princesses
And powder blue tutus
I would dream
And wish for a lil girl
My own doll for loving
And often lament
With a sad heart
Of an emptyness within.

Last days though
I have oft wondered
About my misplaced desire
I have found a thought
Which circles around
In my mind's quagmire
How less cute
How less lovely
Is my boy's sweaty face?
His twisted smile,
And blackened chin
Dirty shoe's untied lace ?
His clumsy hands
With balls and cars
And permanent knee scrape
Mismatched socks,
Untidy locks,
The dirty towel drape.
How endearing I find
The little hands
Dragging the snot across
How my heart swells
As tears well
On a tennis point's loss

I wonder when
With stealthy steps
My heart has changed it's tune
My lil boys
With their clumsy ways
Are my life's fortune.

Superman

Superman…

“ Mummaaaaaaaaaa !”  Ravi’s shrill voice rang through the house.”  Mumma, see what I found!  Mummaaaaa !” Anjali could no longer ignore the insistence in his voice. Abandoning her tepid cup of tea, she trudged her way to the room where her toddler lay playing on the ground. “ Mumma, Look at this, just look !” Ravi held up a bright red silk scarf which he had found.  “ And, what is so special about this scarf ?” Anjali pursed her lips to control the giggle which was bubbling. She was not able to match this scarf with the enthusiasm which shone out of her son’s eyes. “ It’s the thing Superman ties around his neck !” Ravi stated this so matter of factly, as if it was the most obvious truth in the world. The giggles finally burst out of Anjali.

 “ Wear it mumma, tie it around your neck!” The insistence full enthusiasm was slowly reaching a fever pitch. “ Let me tie it around your neck, sweetie pie” Anjali tried diverting.

 “ Noooooo ! YOU wear it. YOU are my superman !”

Mukul watched the mother and son enraptured in each other’s company. His perfect little world , his perfect family. Having known Anjali since their graduation days in DU, they had indeed come a long way. The furtive glances exchanged in the lecture halls, had blossomed into holding hands and walking the picturesque South Campus alleys. A quick stint in the US post his graduation had ensured a fat paycheck and Anjali’s Parents’ consent to marriage when he returned back to India. Anjali , having had no support for her airhostess dreams, had settled as a manager for a leading jewellery chain in Delhi. Mukul was like the wind beneath her wings, an escape route from the shackles of tradition which her parents had bound her in.

Watching Anjali and Ravi play, had put Mukul in a good mood. Maybe tonight Anjali……..

“It’s hurting !”  Anjali half squealed half cried. The incessant tickling had left her breathless and a bundle of nerves. Mukul’s grip on her arms was too tight to escape. A steady stream of tears had started flowing down her eyes. “ That’s the fun baby !” Mukul’s reply filled her with a scary thrill. It was just the second day of their honeymoon.  She didn’t know the limits to which her body could take this assault.

Did she like it? Yes. But the pain was tough to take. Mukul had zoned out, lost in his world of passion. The raw energy flowing out of him startled her. A long life of such carnal pleasure stretched out in front of her. Did she like it ? Yes.

Each night the passion left Anjali breathless. Those saccharine days of hand holding and whispering sweet nothings had given way to hard raw sex. Mukul was both demanding and generous in bed. It was as if his life revolved around thinking of newer ways in which to find pleasure. Anjali’s mind was cottonwool . Her happiness was overshadowing the pricks of pain which she felt.

With the passage of time , Mukul’s touch left the bed room walls. It was now an all encompassing entity around Anjali. The sudden hug as she worked in the kitchen left her breathless. The pulling back of her hair for that fevered kiss, made her scalp prickle. The pinches were becoming hurtful.

As she sat sewing a button on Ravi’s new school uniform, Mukul came and held her hand. “ You don’t have time for me at all. It’s either your wretched work or Ravi. Where do I figure in your life?” Anjali was surprised. “Why do you say so? Have I ever ignored or neglected you in any way?” Mukul’s grip on her wrist was becoming harder and harder. “You are hurting me , Mukul……” Anjali repeated what was now becoming a regular refrain. “ You don’t care for me “ Mukul pouted as the wrist turned red with pressure.....

The hitting started when Ravi turned seven. In his mind Mukul had built up a world where Anjali and Ravi were always conspiring against him. He sat nursing his whiskey in silence. Anjali was putting Ravi to sleep. The animated tones of the superhero tales, were wafting out of the bedroom.  He needed Anjali. It had been days since her skin had turned vermilion under his hands. He wanted to see her scream out in pain. The relief which followed later was unparalleled. Her screams were his turn on. Wasn’t she his anyway? Hadn’t she promised to obey him forever in this lifetime ?  Then why the reluctance ? He would talk to her.

He sauntered in with this glass, the dim light of the table lamp reflected in the cuts on the crystal. The reflected light danced on Anjali’s face. She looked beautiful, ethereal. The full moon bore a testimony to her beauty that night. Mukul sat down at the base of the bed, gently picking up the delicate ankle. Her toes adorned with tiny silver rings the bichhiyas. Ravi’s even breathing was a blessing. She was his completely. The Mr Hyde was awake in him full swing. One tug at those ankles and she was beneath him. A few seconds was all it took for the fist to strike.

“ I love your blouse Anju dear ! Though, how you manage to wear such full sleeved stuff all though the year I fail to understand !”  Gayatri , her bosse’s wife commented. “ Everyone loves you for your sense of style though. Fully covered from head to toe, yet looking so pretty, so stylish “ Anjali blushed pink. She had always been uneasy around compliments. She knew she looked good. The long sleeved golden blouse matched with a white silk saree was one of her favourites. She knew she looked good….and the scars were hidden.

What is the helplessness? Why couldn’t she stop the hitting? She sat with her her head in her hands, unable to answer the questions which had plagued her for the last twelve years. Maybe at some base level she liked it ? Did she? Not anymore. The hits were harder. The pain was sharper. The bruises stayed for days. Mukul was so happy, so enchanted those times. The “ I love you” became so poignant, so real, in those moments. The dichotomy of her life was killing her slowly. She didn’t want to rock the boat. The bruises were not visible yet , not yet…..

Mukul was fast realising the pain Anjali was going through. It was a thrill like no other. The monotony and predictability of life was broken by this thrill coursing through his blood. Was her arm a bit sore as she ladled the dal into his bowl ? Her smile made him underestimate her agony. Didn’t she wince when Ravi came and hugged her from behind?  Mukul was a bundle of hidden passion. How perfect his life was. A beautiful woman as his wife. His supremacy over her body absolute. He was the lord and master of his universe.

Anjali wanted to talk to someone about the mess her mind was in . The potential damage she was causing herself loomed over her at all times. She wanted to break free. She wanted to remain tethered.     She loved him .    She hated him.     The pain was unbearable. The pain made Mukul happy. Her life was a dilemma swinging her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, till her mind screamed for release.

But whom could she talk to ? This was so private and personal and she had always been a shy and reticent person. Maybe Ravi would understand one day. He was thirteen. Growing up to be a sensitive and sharp young man. The thought of opening up to her son filled her with dread and mortification. After all she was still his Superman……

Mukul woke up ten minutes late today. He was dreaming. He had not dreamt for a long time. It put him in a good mood. He wanted Anjali..  “Anju ! Come here sweetheart” his voice rang out to the kitchen where Anjali was busy preparing Ravi’s school tiffin. The voice filled her with dread. She knew this tenor, her body shrunk reflexively. Not now. Not in the morning. Just before school, just before work. “Anju !!!” Mukul was becoming insistent.

Anjali walked with heavy steps to her bedroom. Her temple of pain. Her mausoleum of dichotomy. Mukul sat on the bed, his grin devilish, his hair trussed. The years had been kind to him. He was still the sexy youth from past. Just that  glint in the eyes was disturbing as he pulled Anjali into his arms. The kissing was rough, his nails digging into her arms, his thighs pinning her down till the pain was a raging fire . Anjali screamed. “ Let go! Let me go Mukul ! You are hurting me ! Mukul please !” Mukul’s laugh masked her screams. He was in a zone beyond understanding. 

Suddenly , the fire ebbed, laughing face contorted, Mukul’s eyes bulged, Anjali’s screams, Mukul’s laughter were overpowered by Ravi’s shouting . “ She said ‘ Let go’ you MONSTER !…let go, let go, let go, let go, let go….……Ravi’s voice was staccato as each ‘let go’ was a knife being stabbed into Mukul’s back. Blood oozed and splattered the walls. Anjali was stunned into speechlessness.  A calm had descended onto the house with the only sound being the drip drip of Mukul’s blood falling on the ground.

Anjali pulled Ravi away, calmly closing the door which she should have latched earlier . Packing their tiffins , and readying themselves in silence, they both left the house.

After dropping Ravi to his school.. she sat in the starbucks café, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag covered with her blue silk scarf, slowly turning it red

She didn’t know what would happen next , but she knew Ravi would be safe. After all she was his Superman. As He was her Superman..

-         Piyu Mukerji

Lost and found

As a teacher Shefali had a busy day balancing work and home. The brightest part of the day,  was the time spent with her best  friend Ritika in the evenings. Shefali and Ritika had known each other for years, having lived very close by. They had seen themselves through pregnancies,  the birth of their children , the ups and downs of daily hum drum of their lives.

Last winter had seen Ritika's family getting shattered by the sudden loss of her husband Samir by a massive heart attack. No one could have predicted that such a fun loving man like Samir would have such a shocking end.

Ritika had been trying to cope ever since. Last month she had started complaining about her daughter Amaira to Shefali. Amaira was fifteen , five years elder to Aman her younger one. Ritika complained that Amaira had started keeping 'bad company ' and she suspected that Amaira had also started to have alcohol with her friends.

She had become rather uncommunicative and preferred to shut herself in her room most of the times when at home.
She also did not eat much on most days and lounged around in her pajamas all the time. Ritika was at her wits end trying to control this wayward behaviour of her daughter and blamed the school's environment for this downfall in Amaira.

Shefali had been a part of the school system long enough to realise that this was not a simple case of 'bad company' as Ritika was stating. She decided to talk to Amaira in her mother's absence.

The first meeting with Amaira was a shocker for Shefali. Where was the sweet girl who had grown up in front of her eyes ? This Amaira was a stranger. Dirty , unkempt hair, untidy nails, shabby uniform now described this sullen teenager who sat in front of her. Shefali could make no headway. Amaira turned down all attemts at a conversation with sullen monisyllabilic replies. 

Shefali was not to be defeated. Her years as a teacher had instilled immense patience in her. She kept on meeting Amaira and speaking to her. Random topics at first and then slowly about her friendship with Amaira's parents, the loss of her father which they all felt.

With slow and steady effort Shefali managed to break down Amaira's barriers. Amaira confessed that she really missed her dad like crazy. She found no solace at home. Her mom rarely spoke to her any more. The kid brother was too young to confide in. She had found her release with her older friends who had introduced her to alcohol. She felt that she could forget all sorrows when she was intoxicated. Also she didn't care what the world thought of her anymore. Life was slowly losing all meaning.

Shefali sympathised with her and made her feel as if she was on her side. Very gently she brought out happy memories of her father and encouraged Amaira to talk about him. After initial bouts of crying, Amaira slowly started to heal.

Shefali took Amaira to a known counsellor who suggested some medical tests , just to ensure that there was no endocrinological problem or other medical issues. Once they had clearly established that Amaira was medically fit, Amaira was given regular counselling and treated for alcohol abuse as well.

Simultaneously,  Ritika was also counselled to open up to her daughter and share the grief. The family was struggling with non communication and was not able to cope with the loss of some one so dear. With the counsellor's help, both Ritika and Amaira have been able to handle the rough patch of their lives better and are moving towards a healthy and happy future.

Conclusion : Amaira was indeed fortunate to have a family friend like Shefali who could handle her Psychological issues. Shefali's patience and sound approach towards Amaira's problems helped timely detection and remedy of a situation which could have got out of hand. The Mental health professional was trained to diagnose and treat Amaira's problems and also simultaneously tackle the family's grieving process. With the love and support of her family , Amaira was able to heal and bring a closure to her grief.

Stolen

My heart is stolen
Can't feel the flutter
The mind is a jumbled
Incoherent mutter
The crowd swells
Talking around me
My eyes are still
You are all they see
She jokes, he laughs
And punches my arm
My lips tilt
Charmed by your charm

Dida

I search my memory bag
The marbles rattle
They make some noise
I find you there
The epitome of grace
Full of poise
I search some more
I want to find
Something beyond.
I see you there
Always kind
Holding me close.
I try and try
To come up just once,
With any such time
Where you faltered,
Or cried,
Or lost your poise...
I fail miserably
My memory bag
Shows no such search.
I hold you up
On a pedestal in my mind
My loving , giving dida
In your memories I will find,
The strength to give love
The way you always did.
The courage to do things right
The way you always did.