shefzone

[shefzone]

An Ode to all the Mothers!

The second Sunday of May is her day.

That's the day when there is an outpour of messages, gifts and showering of love for someone who brought you into this world.

People living afar or even close put up pictures on social media and profess their love and unending bond they share with their mothers.

Just for that one day so as to not feel excluded from the league of everybody else, you decide to put up too.

How real is all that?

Motherhood is a blessing indeed and the happiness is unmeasurable.

When I sit back to think, I realize that every mother is special, different but are same when it comes to the love for her children.

Whether she's a working mom or a home maker, juggling all the responsibilities and playing multiple roles is something that I can't really fathom at this point!

Growing up, I've always seen my mom be serious about our education and equally about our hobbies. I was never spared without a lesson being taught whenever I was wrong. My childhood is filled with examples of training to know the right from the wrong and how to practice those values inculcated in us in our formative years. Mothers play a vital role in the overall shaping of a person who inspires you to fly after being taught how to use your wings!

But let's not forget even those mothers who have fostered or adopted kids and raised them to be on their own feet. It's not just about the blessing of giving birth but also the blessing of being able to raise them with utmost love, care and being the support as they go ahead to realise their dreams. Which realises her dream too.

The sanctity of this profound relationship is slowly fading as we get little time to spend with each other owing to our busy schedules and so it becomes imperative to understand where this is all heading by naming just one day in a year for her while on the other days we pick up her phone only after seeing five missed calls.

It's true that there are a million things to look after but where do we place her in those million things is a question that requires an answer.

There's no single day when she doesn't call you or remember you or even remind you to have food on time or take medicines when sick.

The only person who will be by your side and believes in you when even you don't believe in yourself.

She can fight with the world for getting the best for her kids. Her presence itself can wipe out all the problems. Conversations with her is a cure to any form of mental agony that we may have.

She will wait till we have our food, will forget her own troubles as she asks us about our day and will stay awake all night with us during exams.

A small incident earlier this year when I slipped and bruised my leg and had to stay back at home for 2 days, she called repeatedly, every hour to check on me while she was at work. At one point I got irritated as I couldn't concentrate on my work too. But soon, I realised that this is what love means!

She's definitely my best friend who knows everything in and out about me and I don't hesitate talking about anything to her, knowing that she can see things from my perspective too. A woman of substance who manages the entire house along with work, I wonder how she does all this without any tantrums or feeling tired.

There's no lack of zeal or enthusiasm as she readies herself everyday.

For me, yes she is Wonder Woman!

Celebrating one day will not compensate for all the little things that mothers do everyday!

It's her day, every day! :)

[shefzone]

Unlock The Code - 4 : The First Suspect

Witnessing the entire hullabaloo in the midst of a thought of why did it all have to go down this way, I look at my ruptured body one last time before it's sent in a van for post mortem.

I wanted to run behind it and also wished to get sucked into that body and make a magical re-appearance - "brought back from the dead" or "resurrected back to life". They show that in the movies too and people do believe them.

I never believed in after-life or ghosts until I became one. Was this some kind of a game plan to just test my faith?

No, I don't think so. It's not a game. Nor a plan. Who knows?

I started following the investigating team.

"Summon everyone who was at the party yesterday."

Yes. That's my chance to get clarity of those blurry images I keep having. It's like a broken DVD.

"I need the guest list."

The investigating officer in charge looked familiar though. He had appeared a couple of times on the local news channels giving interviews regarding some cases.

Avinash Gokhale. Senior inspector.

"Did you inform the family?"

This is the hardest part. I am torn between being at the police station to get a break through and going to the hospital to watch my family break down.

What would you choose? Never mind.

I went with the latter.

It was easy for me to gain access. Like having the invisibility cloak. I walk towards the hallway and straight to the mortuary. I didn't know where it was, yet I was able to locate it.

Maybe my sixth sense got activated after all the other senses failed.

"It can't be her! No!" I hear someone wail. It should be my mom because the woman was having difficulty in breathing as she tried to convince herself. Mom has asthma.

As the doors opened, I could see her and dad. I wanted to go straight to them and hug them and tell that I'm still here, around them.

Would her motherly instincts make her feel me?

They pull out my body for identification and she became all hysterical.

I was helpless to watch her in that state. I was standing in front of her. Tried to hold her hand and even whispered into her ears - "Mom!"

I think she gasped. I am pretty sure. But she might probably be thinking it's all just hallucination.

My dad maintained his perpetual stoic expression but I know he's all crying inside. He tried consoling mom which was very tough.

She looked at me with tears clouding her vision. Stroked my hair and planted a kiss on my cheek. Her hands shivered as she tried to cup my face in her palms.

She wouldn't let go of me.

I had her features and qualities that included being stubborn.

"Call Uday. He might have reached the police station," mom told my dad.

Without wasting another minute, I rush back.

"I want to sue the management of that hotel for sheer carelessness! If there was a short circuit, does it take 2 hours to fix everything? Why wasn't all of this in place?" he was questioning angrily.

"It's all planned and a ploy! They cannot hide behind these lame excuses to cover up their security lapse!"

I stood there looking at him arguing with all his might for me.

"It's 11 am in the morning! What are you all up to? Let's get to work!" Mr. Avinash yelled yet again at his team in a bid to calm down my brother.

Oh! Whoa. Wait. 11am? I look at my watch. It shows 12:28... IT STOPPED WORKING TOO?

Which means I died precisely at 12:28AM..

Time had stood still for me. This is a true phrase indeed.

"The post mortem reports will take time but listen now, we need to examine this case from all the angles. Whether it was robbery since we're unable to locate her purse or belongings, or some revenge or a case of a spurned lover or ex-boyfriend or a case of rape or sexual assault or..."

I couldn't even feel the chill run through my spine. I don't have one now.

"Stop it! Do what you have to do but dare you malign her name!"

Their conversation was interrupted by a constable handing over the guest list.

"Who's Vinay Seth?"

"Her fiance."

"I think we just got our first suspect."

"What?"

"Well, he had his car parked in Block C."

"But she didn't go to the event with him. They had an argument earlier that day..."

"That makes it even more easy to crack this case."

"No but..."

"Let's head to Mr. Vinay's residence and wish him good morning."

I was transfixed.

Vinay? Why would he? Over the petty argument that we had that day? Would that provoke him to kill me? Is he so immature?

No this can't be true.

I knew him for 8 long years. We went to college together and even dreamt of starting our own brand and image consulting firm together. We had our share of ups and downs but we survived through them all. And here we were with our dreams finally unfolding before our eyes.

We were going to get married next year.

Everything was figured out.

Until the black clouds hovered above and blinded us with thunder and lightning.

[shefzone]

Unlock The Code - 3 : The Eventful Event

A team of 5 policemen interrupt the ongoing speculation surrounding my mysterious death. About 20 people had already gathered around my dead body, mere spectators who were weaving theories in their mind and some of them were loud enough in putting all the blame on me citing reasons of me venturing out late night to enjoy a party.

Well. The party.

I began recalling the scenes from the party. It was a success event of our maiden venture. It was supposed to be a celebration on achieving an important milestone.

The last ever milestone I'd ever witness of our venture together. Was this meant to be this way? I had put my heart and soul into it. Literally. No pun intended.

Worked day in and day out. I wanted to feel miserable. But it did not work. Not in the state I'm in.

The history of our firm will be marred with this black day.

Will there be any remorse?

"Cordon off the area! Quick!" one of the policeman yelled.

While they were trying to ascertain my identity by interrogating the management who immediately checked their records and provided the details, I stood there hoping that I'd get some leads in knowing how I landed myself in the basement.

"Miss Riya Patel. She was here for an event," one of them said.

"What was that?"

"Corporate event. She's the co-founder of the firm V&R Advisors. But the event was in block A. I don't know how she got in block C."

Yes. I wonder that too.

I replay the last scene I remember before I die. It replayed me having conversation with Emily who was talking about spending her vacation in South Africa.

"You must join us too! It'd be fun! You must treat yourself to some good times before life just passes by you."

Those words now hit hard.

"I'll think about it. I need to work on some plans. We just landed 3 big clients and I don't want to take time off now that the sun is shining. It's time to make the hay."

Priorities. Wonder what made sense. Regretting not getting to enjoy the vacation or making it big.

Doesn't matter anyway.

It's all gone now. With the wind.

I wonder whether I'd be able to travel though. I won't need a visa anymore and nor there would be any need to check my schedule.

Those thoughts were distracting.

"Where are the CCTV footages?"

Those will ultimately reveal everything. I thought.

But yes, nothing comes easy. Not even peace after death.

There was a blackout, they say, and that disrupted the whole security system.

My hopes are now pinned on witnesses. Human eyes capture more than the camera lenses.

But their testimonies are influenced by the fear of getting embroiled in this system which promises the triumph of truth.

But life can be evil.

Because if you see, "live" spells "evil" when mirrored.

[shefzone]

Unlock The Code - 2: The After-Life

I look at my lifeless body in horror. However, I don't sense any pain.

I am dead. And it's yet to sink in.

It's deeply unsettling.

When. Where. How. Who.

No answers again. All in vain.

My aversion to blood or sight of a dead body probably died along with me. It no longer made me squirm.

But my emotions were intact. I wanted to let out a cry. A cry without any sense of pain. It didn't make sense to me. Maybe I'll take time to learn about the spirit world and how it functions.

I need to learn how to live my life this way.

Oops.

'How to live the 'after-life'.

Irony.

I stood there. Still. Though I was trapped in that body for 26 years, I now feel trapped in this so called world which is no less than hell.

While the guards were talking about some CCTV footage, I inspect myself closely.

Sorry. My 'dead self'.

I circle around it twice.

Stab wounds. Stabbed in the stomach.

They were also talking about the stench and foul smell. But again, I don't sense it.

'I'm no longer a living being,' I reminded myself.

I don't see any knife or sharp object around.

So does the killer still possess it? Or did he discard it on his way out?

Is the killer a 'he' or 'she'?

Why would anybody kill me?

And why don't I remember any of this?

I strain my brain. Harder.

I wonder how I'm thinking because my brain also died with me, right? I mean you die when all the organs stop functioning. That's what science taught me.

I feel like that newborn trying to understand the world. Confused.

I did it again.

I think it's appropriate for me to now use the term 'A confused soul' for that's who I am now.

Being a newbie, I will surely have a lot of questions. But first, I need to know who would do this to me. Why.

OH WHY?

The guards are totally oblivious of the fact that I am there listening to every word they're uttering.

I then walk around. My feet feel light. I realise I don't feel myself anymore. And I'm not even numb.

I lay there in peace after the brutality, in a corner away from any easy glare. What a site to die at.

I reach the other side of the wall. And I'm stunned. That's the exact place where I woke up. Did I just fly my way out, through the cement wall?

Is that possible? I did see that in the movies but this is REAL. Is it? I start questioning my existence.

My parents. Oh my God. They'd be all broken.. I don't think I can bear to see my mom weeping and banging her fists against the wall. My dad would mourn in silence, without any display of emotions because that's how he's been.

My brother. Uday. Will he be able to handle all of this well? He'd probably do justice to me.

I don't know what to think right now. The aftermath of this news or about the cause of it?

What a dilemma.

The police siren interrupted my thoughts. Isn't it weird that I lost all the senses except for the ability to see and hear? Luck.

And not to mention I'm gifted with the supernatural power of traveling through walls.

I'm a ghost.

I should scare people off. But hey, humans are even scarier and no less violent.

Aren't they? You need proof?

Look at the headlines tomorrow.

[shefzone]

Unlock The Code - 1 : The Discovery

I think I had dozed off. Pretty sure. I wake up feeling lighter, better.

Rubbing my eyes, I look around. The place does look familiar.

Where did I doze off? No, I am not at home because I remember being at the party last night and I didn't take a cab back to my place. I look at my watch. It was way past noon.

Holy crap! Was I asleep for 12 hours?

Did someone sedate my drink?

But I didn't have anything. Just tortilla chips.

Is it possible to sedate that? Not sure.

It's dark in here. There are some vehicles parked.

Am I in the basement of a building?

Where the hell am I?

I realize that I'm talking to myself and asking questions to myself with a very faint chance of getting any answers.

I decide to stroll a bit and look for my phone and yes, my purse too. I think I dropped it somewhere. And I need money to go back home. That's going to be some hard luck so I dropped that plan. But I had to get out of this place and so I start looking for signs of exit.

And then I then find one.

Finally, I'm out. Into the sun. But hey, why am I not feeling the scorching heat?

That's bizarre.

I then here some cry.

I hear fast approaching footsteps and so I turn.

There were two guards who looked as if the world was about to end any minute. Colour drained from their faces.

'What do we do now?' one asked the other.

'We need to call the police immediately!'

They were totally ignorant of my presence.

'But what happened?' I ask.

They turn a deaf ear. Probably afraid to acknowledge me at the wrong place and at the wrong time.

As they tread back inside, I decided to follow them. Discreetly. I didn't understand why I wanted to go back in. Was it an impulse? Maybe due to my heightened inquisitiveness.

It was half a mile long walk. It was scary but I was cautious.

And it was weird how they didn't seem to mind me meddling into whatever they had discovered.

And then, they suddenly stop.

'Let's call.'

'Hello. There's a dead body in here. In the basement of Block C of The Quadron. Yes... About like 5 minutes ago... Sure... No problem.'

And he hung up.

There was a body in a pool of blood.

It shook me.

'They're coming.'

I step aside to get a better glimpse of the body.

And I couldn't believe.

How the hell did that happen?

And when?

HOW THE HELL DID I DIE?

(Part 2 out soon. Till then keep analysing and wondering!)

[shefzone]

Die Another Day

No, don't draw those curtains,

Let the rays touch you.

No, don't bother about those wounds and stains,

Let them remind you-

How you've been in the ruins,

How you've been in the dark,

How you've stressed every muscle,

How you've fought every shark.

No it's not today, definitely not today,

When you'd turn everything upside down,

Because you're not yet where you'd want to be,

And my love, you can't give up so easily.

You can draw tattoos around what hurt you,

Let them ask why you should glorify,

You don't need to answer them today,

Oh no, not today.

Because you haven't yet put those plans in action,

You haven't yet tried the alternative.

So, don't go back to your old self,

The one who allowed you to get walked over, at every step.

You're now friends with your alter-ego,

And trust me, it'll pull them back on the ground.

Because the gravity here isn't zero.

But for that, you need to fly, my dear.

And so, today is not that day,

When you'd retreat into your shell,

When you'd close your eyes to the lightning,

Because that's what you were waiting for-

To shine and sparkle and spread your wings,

To see that silver lightning.

The dark clouds shall soon pass,

But hey, you need to hold on.

You don't need to push yourself down today,

Oh no, not today.

You can die another day.

Today you need to rise,

Shake yourself up and be alive,

Because soon you'd be at that peak,

And that view, you wouldn't want to miss!

Let not anyone kill your dreams,

Or poison your beliefs,

You're not them, you ain't giving up,

You're there, nearly there,

You've almost reached the cusp.

The crescent moon also turns into full,

The sun also shines brighter after the fall,

The flowers also bloom in the midst of a storm.

You're then, no less, my love.

So get up! You can die another day.

But hey, not today.

Because today, you need to climb that wall,

Break those chains,

And paint the sky.

The stars will twinkle,

And you'll be one of them.

But for that, you need to be on your toes,

Fight tooth and nail,

And know your foes.

You can, yes you can,

Just don't fall into the slumber,

But open up that chamber,

And drink up that potion.

The potion of love, courage and grit,

And you won't die today.

'Cause it's not today.

-Shefali Rao

[shefzone]

ON THE RUN

‘Wake up! Rise and shine, darling!’ my cell phone flashes.

I turn off the alarm for the second time and spring out of my bed. It’s 5:30AM already and I couldn’t let the previous day’s exhaustion stop me from going on my daily jog.

With earphones in and my favourite song on, I was ready to bring in the new day.

The beach has always been that calming and comforting zone; it has always helped me clear my head with the waves gushing, the sound of which trashed away the negative thoughts but at the same time brought back those memories – bitter sweet and yes, unforgettable.

It wasn’t a usual day though. The sun hadn’t yet emerged from amongst the clouds and there were no familiar faces on the run. Sensing some oddity, I decided to perch myself on a rock and just gaze into the oblivion. I wasn’t ready for the day, or the week, or the month, or my future… was I? I was fighting these conflicting feelings within me – all in my head. Or was it just the Monday blues haunting me?

I was clueless.

I then spot a guy, apparently painting a picture of the sea. Being the only other human on the beach besides myself, I got all inquisitive and decided to inspect the frame by getting a much closer look.

However, there was no picture on the white canvas. Not even a stroke of the brush.

‘What are you observing since so long? Unable to find the right angle for the picture?’ I ask.

Hearing a voice probably got him back to the reality from which he was afar for almost an hour.

‘Oh…,’ he was surprised by my intervention. ‘No, I know what I am going to paint. Just trying to find something unusual to incorporate into the picture.’

‘Something unusual?’ it didn’t make much sense to me.

‘You see, I’ve been coming here and painting the picture of the sea at this same spot for over a month now. And no two pictures resemble.’

He showed me all the pictures that he previously painted and they were unbelievable – each picture had something different – the colours and the vibes were altogether refreshing.

‘The sea changes its colours every day, we just need to see when and how. It’s all in our perception. And those who are able to visualise that, well, it is like a gift,’ he said with a smile.

‘I am amazed… how did I not notice you all this while?’

‘I did, though. You tried to switch off from this world with your headphones on, singing you tunes that perhaps made you dream about a perfect world – sort of a disconnect from reality that blurs all the things around you.’

‘Didn’t you too just do that before I interrupted you? Lost in some thoughts?’

‘I was finding my call for today – it’s not really the same. Not to offend you.’

I was dumbfounded.

‘But I need to do that, we all need to – recharge our batteries before heading for a long day.’

‘You are calling yourself a gadget then?’

‘What? No! I mean, we need to rejuvenate and unplug from this daily routine that we need to embark upon so that at the end of the day we still find the motivation to restart with that zest.’

‘I agree, we need to unplug ourselves. As an artist, I understand that quite well. But that doesn’t mean we need to find our calling in a world that we build where we are happy – it’s like creating an illusion and wishing for it to happen.’

‘Elaborate?’

‘Just find the unusual in the usual and you won’t need to transport yourself to some la-la land every day.’

‘That does sound pretty fascinating to me.’

‘It gets even more interesting as you practice it. Appreciate things around you and moments that life bestows upon you.’

That day, it was cloudy but still I felt sun rays caressing my cheeks as I somehow felt alive again while on my way to work.

‘That was a good presentation, Mira!’ everyone applauded. 5 years into advertising but today I felt myself getting pushed into a whole new dimension.

I wasn’t going to miss my jog the next day. I had to thank him.

Waking up on the first ring, I jumped into my shoes and headed straight to the beach with the hope of finding him again.

For the first time in all these years, I decided to ditch my headphones and I couldn’t fathom the emotions gushing through my body as the I heard the waves singing the tunes in the background as I observed the coconut seller blissfully making sales, young people doing sprints and the old people taking a stroll, the dogs sleeping peacefully and the rocks unmoved and unperturbed, taking note of all of these activities.

‘Life is a metaphor in itself,’ I hear the familiar voice and stop.

‘I was looking for you.’

‘That’s strange. I told you to find the unusual but never thought you’d take that as me,’ he said and chuckled.

‘Are you hitting on me?’ I raised my eye brow.

‘Oh no. Didn’t mean it that way. I thought you considered me as weird, perhaps.’

‘I came here to thank you!’

‘Really? May I know why?’

‘Well, your definition of the ‘routine’ has somewhat changed my beliefs. You ought to find your calling from even what you do every day by discovering something that you never knew you were capable of finding.’

‘Things take their own course. Change is the only constant and is the law of nature. Like these waves which are in the same motion every day yet there is some mystic feeling about them, different from each day – the change is unnoticeable but you know it is happening, they may not always be visible. Sometimes it is all about the perception. Change the angle and you would find a new meaning or just change the focus.’

‘You speak like an old wise sage.’

‘I’m sorry for the heavy dose of philosophy, but that’s the ultimate truth.’

I shake my head in reflex and realise that time is kicking in.

‘It was good meeting and knowing you… Mr…’

‘Arjun Grover. And here’s a small gift for you.’

‘Isn’t this a painting from yesterday?’ I was marvelled at how beautiful it was. Time just stood still. And there was me at the corner, on a rock, quite oblivious of everything around.

‘This is… just so enchanting. Thank you.’ I was filled with gratitude.

I return home and decided to Google a bit about him and check if he has any site of his own only to stumble upon a piece of information that shook me beyond words.

‘Arjun Grover – owner and CEO of VisionOne’ and there was a picture of him with that equivocal smile. A young talent that caught the industry by storm with his vision who did the usual in an unusual way.

I observe the painting and find a message at the back – ‘Don’t always look for roses when you know you have to walk on the thorns. Look for what you know would be coming as that will prepare you and help you go through it. Unplug yourself but never get delusional for you got to face the reality, however hard it may be. And change is sometimes all about the perception and the angles and the settings – as long as you know how to deal and accept. Life is unpredictable so do what you have always been wanting to do, say what you have always wanted to say and believe in just yourself. Hope you have a fulfilling life ahead. My best wishes! – A.G’

The next day, as I was on my usual morning run, ready to find the unusual, the spot was vacant. Maybe it was time for him to change the angle and for me it was time to get the reality in focus.

- Shefali Rao

[shefzone]

THE UNWRITTEN LETTERS

It was another Saturday afternoon and I made myself comfortable in bed, ready to binge-watch my favourite TV series for the weekend.

Fries. Check.

Coke. Check.

Blanket. Check.

There’s nothing like the winter-weekends spent at home huddled in the blankets for the warmth and watching your favourite TV show. Lazy as I am, I pray that I get no calls on my landline or there isn’t anybody ringing my doorbell for fun. I still can’t find that kid who ruined my football match last weekend.

The place is new, conventional but I do love this apartment that I was lucky enough to get on rent in the suburbs at a reasonable price.

Just as I was about to hit resume from where I had left off, my fear came true.

Damn! The doorbell.

‘If I find that kid again, I’m going to take him straight to his mom and give him an earful,’ I think as I force myself out of my bubble towards the living room.

Hoping to catch hold of the mischievous kid, I am however surprised to see a postman.

‘Mr. Vivek Gupta?’

‘Yes.’

He handed over to me a letter. I wondered who would write a letter in the age of e-mails and text messages.

‘I think we finally are able to get these to you. I saved them all. Was hoping to get lucky,’ he said and placed almost a dozen more with a smile and the informal salute.

Before I could react, he was gone.

I go back to my room and look at the envelopes. I place them chronologically and it was strange enough to find them dated first of each month.

With heightened inquisitiveness, I open the first one.

‘Dear Vivek,

How are you, my child?

I am doing well here. Adjusting in the home. I don’t want to call it an ‘old age’ home because I think I am still young at heart and would live long enough to see your children progress as you already have.

I am really proud of you.

Waiting to hear from you.

Love,

Ma.’

That seemed odd.

I tear out another one from the next envelope.

‘Dear Vivek,

I didn’t hear back from you. You might be busy with the work load. Don’t stress yourself so much.

Did you get the number correct when you left me here? Is that why you aren’t able to reach me?

The lady here tells me that she didn’t receive any phone call from anybody named ‘Vivek’.

I really hope you are doing well, my son.

Please call me.

Love,

Ma.’

I was baffled. I couldn’t stop myself from reading each one of them all over again.

In one of the envelopes, I find a card. My heart melted on reading it.

‘Dear Vivek,

Today is your day.

Happy Birthday, my son!

My eyes are moist as I take a trip down the memory lane.

You were 2 years old when you started mimicking me and as you grew up, you said you would want to cook like I do! But you weren’t even able to make tea!

When you fell sick during the board examinations, I was so tense and up all night. But you made me proud and secured a good rank and got into your dream college.

All this has been like a wonderful dream to me. But it’s a beautiful reality.

Your passion towards your job, your grit and determination has enabled you climb that ladder of success. I wish your father was here to see you today. He would have been proud as well.

Also, with this letter is a card. Hope you like it.

I miss you loads, my son. It’s been a year now. Hope you come to meet me soon. The lady says your phone is unreachable every time. I bet she is lying.

I would have made your favourite gajar ka halwa today.

Next time we meet, I’ll definitely make that for you.

Love,

Ma’

I sit there, almost frozen and then reach for my phone to call her.

‘Hello, ma?’

‘Hello beta! What a surprise that you are calling me!’

I heaved a sigh of relief on hearing her voice.

‘How are you?’

‘Doing good. Preparing tea for your dad. He needs almost 5 cups a day nowadays. Doesn’t even go for walks. The doctor has told him to, but he doesn’t listen to either him or me. You are just like your dad!’

‘Oh, mom! I am sorry!’

‘Don’t be! What are you having for lunch?’

I look at the fries that I ordered and as hard as it was, let out a lie anyway.

‘Normal, roti and sabzi.’

‘Okay good. Take care of your health, dear. We’ll be coming to meet you next week. Hope you have settled in the new apartment. The photos look nice.’

‘Yes, ma. I am.’

I ditch my laptop and call the landlord.

He was kind enough to divulge the information of my namesake. He lived here 2 years ago after which it was rented to a couple for a year and then I arrive as ‘the namesake tenant’.

It was unsettling.

Those letters were still on the table next to my bed and I couldn’t sleep throughout the night.

Somewhere I felt guilty reading those letters, not actually addressed to me.

After 2 days of contemplation, I reach the post office and was lucky enough to find the postman who had handed me those letters.

‘Hello. I am sorry, but these are not my letters.’

He looked at me, unconvinced.

‘That lady lives in the hope of getting a reply from her son. When I reached this address previously, I found a couple staying there and these had to be undelivered. I, however, kept them with me with the slight hope that someday I’ll be able to deliver them to the correct person. And then I get another letter in a long time and decide to try one last time. I don’t know what is written in these but I do know that in the age where you can connect with anyone via text or phone calls, writing letters is too personal and emotional. These are worth treasures.’

‘I understand, completely. I feel sorry.’

‘No problem. Have a good day, sir.’

As I start retreating, my footsteps were heavy. My legs ached and my stomach churned. I knew something wasn't right. I somehow reach home and then get a rush of emotions.

I take few sheets of paper and begin writing:

‘Hello Ma,

How are you?

I am so sorry for writing in late. Hope you forgive me.

I know that I couldn’t call you. But I do think of you every single day.

I miss you too.

I will come to meet you soon.

Love,

Vivek.’

This was a good start.

Next day I posted the letter to the address that I had noted, on my way to the office. Almost 15 days later, I get another letter. The thought of how someone could be so insensitive pricked me and I decided to do my own little investigation.

I called up the Old Age home.

‘Asha Old Age Home, who is this?’

‘I am Vivek Gupta here.’

There was a long pause.

‘And you want to talk to?’

I stuttered as I said. 'My mom. Anju Gupta.'

'Don't play a prank, whoever you are.'

'Why do you think so?'

'Because he died 8 months ago.'

That sent me into a tizzy. I was almost shaking.

I then learnt that the old woman is suffering from amnesia since 5 months and has been adamant all the while to accept that her son is no more. After I hung up, I decided to continue with the ritual. I continued writing letters and also continued receiving them. The postman now smiles widely whenever he hands over to me those priceless letters. One phone call, one text, one reply can make such a huge impact.

After maybe a few months, I would visit her. Until then, my routine continues, writing those unwritten letters.

-Shefali Rao

[shefzone]

The Courtroom Drama

Maybe we all aren’t judges battling every day in a courtroom in real life but we do, unknowingly practice being one, daily.

Confused?

Let’s unveil the pretentious judges of today.

-Us.

Not clear yet?

Well, the art of judging someone or some situation or an act and thereby passing ‘a judgement’ (better known as ‘coming to a conclusion’) is an inherent quality in each and everyone of us. It does require certain skills and experience to be an expert in the field. But everyone practices it anyway by sticking to their own guns.

The defendant has no say and there’s no appellant. Sounds like ‘Aap ki Adalat?’

The sentence could be for life or a couple of years until there’s a change in either the perspective of the judge or the personality of the defendant.

While you are judging someone (it could be virtually as well), you are being judged too. It goes simultaneously – hand in hand.

The fear of being judged or misjudged, constantly puts us in a pressure to outperform – beyond our abilities or sensibilities.

We don’t intend to do it but we want to be in the good books of people so we need to put on our pretentious self while dealing with the outside world. Wait, is it just the outside world?

No.

We are scared of being judged by our close ones too!

‘The world is a stage, put up a best show.’ This is a very popular saying that is very tricky. So, who is my audience? Why am I not getting paid for this show?!

Damn. Is it for free?

It is true that the life you are leading is a story that you weave with you in the lead but this soon transforms into a reality show with a million viewers. And then - there are also scoreboards.

Hello social media!

The advent of these platforms has opened gates to trolls and the speed with which a judgement is passed varies proportionately with the internet speed and the self-acclaimed proficiency of the judge.

Every move, every act, every syllable uttered is being processed and the results are thrust, out in the open with classification and categorization.

The world starts judging you right since the day you are born!

‘Oh, such a cute baby! Will grow up into an angel.’

‘Very chubby. Looks like his mom!’

‘So smart! Definitely an engineer.’

‘Wails too much! Such a cry baby!’

Need I mention some more?

You are judged on so many levels and across so many variables and factors – your dressing sense, the way you speak, the way you act and react.

Being judgemental however, is not always wrong. You need to be able to judge certain people with whom you are contracting relationships – professional or personal but there has to be a certain framework within which these have to be conducted. There’s no rule book or hand book available yet and is therefore left to your own best judgement on what areas you would want to assess that person.

What an irony!

The study of personality – ‘Personality Psychology’ is a vast area and is a professional course which is not everyone’s cup of tea. It is, however, alternatively also gained by experience and lessons.

What bothers me is the unnecessary naïve criticism passed by amateurs without digging any deeper. People are labelled, categorized and then even ostracised!

Just because a person talks too much doesn’t mean that he/she is social or irritating.

A person who is an introvert doesn’t mean that he/she is anti-social or arrogant.

A person who dresses up into whatever is comfortable – doesn’t mean he/she is bold or outgoing.

We put up too many faces, act too many parts. Do we even know our real selves before trying to put someone else under scanner or a microscope?

Have you had a look at yourself in the mirror? The normal mirror just projects whatever you decorate yourself with and whatever costume you put yourself in.

Don’t be afraid of the world if they know your true self, your real self. Don’t be ashamed of who you are because even if you are flawed, there’s always a way to be better. Hiding the scars with some ‘make up’ is not going to make up for what you want to achieve in life. How long are you going to lead these multiple lives in this one life that we are bestowed with?

Constructive criticism does act as a catalyst to improve in those areas where we genuinely lack but you don’t have you take every critic’s opinion – some of them are just masquerading as one! Beware!

They say, ‘life is short’ (cliché) so spend it judging yourself to explore those areas that would enable you achieve your goals. It could be to be a ‘judge’ but that would, hopefully, be in a real courtroom!

--Shefali Rao