Walking down the colony's lane in rain with the umbrella but making sure that tiny droplets of shower do touch my face, playing badminton in the evening with my landlady helper, watching kids of age group 2-8 riding bicycle, standing on the Terrance and simply feeing the swift wind that tickles me, eating the so called unhygienic yet the most yummy golgappas from the colony’s vendor, visiting the grocery store in my shorts at times without giving a damm to anyone who sees me and above all living a life of peace, this is what I had always dreamed for and I am living my dream!

When I joined hostel I was blank totally, no presumptions, nothing. And with an experience of 3 years in hand as of now, I can say it was more of learning lessons for life than just fun. Bitching, back biting, politics, unnecessary drama at times or rather most of the times, it sucked totally. I don’t want to escape from the adversities of life but yes these things I would rather avoid because there are certain harsh scenarios destined by nature that all of us willingly or non willing face but manmade superfluous problems, one can surely do without for sure! I somehow I don’t want to recall my hostel life cause even when there were moments of pleasure, the very next moment, situations were out of control. I sometimes wonder how a 20-22 year old person can complicate his/her life to such an extent and most importantly hamper the lives of everyone around.

I had dilemmas regarding my decision to take a PG this year. And almost a month has passed after I joined my new PG, and I am clear in my mind that I took the right decision. Bright faces of my PG friends, less calorie good food enriched with love and care prepared by aunty, uncle’s hilarious nature, chotu’s chit chat and rocky’s(doggy) barking one and all seem pleasurable cause behind each of these, there in genuinely which hostel life lacked.

I have never dreamed for the impossible or for something which is very lavish. But yes whatever little I wish of having must be authentic and provide me calm so that I can live not mere breathe. I wish that the days ahead are lovely and as of now I AM IN LOVE WITH MY LIFE TOTALLY!!!!!!

Is it me?

Staring at the mirror I thought “Oh god! Is it me?”

Clad in red shorts and white tee, all wet in sweat, sitting very comfortably on my friend’s couch waiting for her to get ready so that we could proceed towards the terrace and start with our game, I looked like a complete guy. I was 8 then. Biologically a girl but more of a tom boy! I had practically no qualities of a girl. My wardrobe gave an appearance that it was of some young boy and perhaps it was only at school or maybe when I visited some relative of mine that I was spotted in skirts! But that day something strange happened. For the first time I noticed that I looked like a boy, dressed like a boy and even had a haircut like a boy!

And then suddenly I started observing my friends who were girls. They were unlike me. Calm and composed, soft spoken away from fights! I was just the other way around, loud, ring leader of the group as quoted in my uncle’s word, always up with mischief’s and that too deadly one like playing with fire, experimenting with electrical sockets, involved in terrible fights with my cousins and other guys of my apartment which sometimes worsened because guys would not give up if punched by a girl and the same applied for me too. I was poles apart from other girls!

But then something struck me that day. It was not that I wanted to be like a guy but I had never realised that I acted like a guy! And after becoming conscious about this fact, I wanted to change myself. Changes were slow. In fact very slow!

The first change was that of my attire. I now had those frills and frocks which I once considered absolutely silly to wear! The next area of concern was to control my loud voice and moreover control my anger and stop hitting guys! And this was difficult. It took years. And by the time I was 11, I had, started developing girl instincts!

The major transformation took place when I was admitted to Notre Dame Academy in class 7^th. I had always been to a co-education school and it was my very first experience to join a girl’s school. Initially it was strange, 60 girls sitting in a room, all wearing same dresses looked the very same! I had a hard time memorising their names. But the most challenging job was still to come up, judging their natures, and poor I, till date i am very weak at it! I missed my friends from my previous school because I had no friends here. And it was difficult to make friends when everyone was so full of attitude and sense of letting the other one down. For a month I had my lunch with my cousin who was in the junior section until one day she suggested me to mingle with my class mates and develop a rapport. And once I tried, I was through! I made new friends.

And I learned a lot new things which I was poor at; a sense of creativity topped the list. Making bulletin boards on innovative topics with all sorts of craft paper, learning new art forms like pot painting, collage making, book binding, knitting, tie and dye, different stitches etc were all I developed an interest in. All this was so exciting and very new to me and I enjoyed doing it! Slowly and steadily I was more of a girl now.

Over the years things have changed. Now I like to wear a little bit of jewellery too but a lot of it still makes me crazy if it’s not something really trendy. I love wearing suits for some formal occasions. My interest in makeup had diversified. Nail paints of all funky shades, eyeliners and kohl of different colour, I totally love! Sophistication in voice and mannerism I can carry off well now. So progress is good. But I know I can never be like the pure girly stuff, and moreover I don’t want to become one after all individuality must be respected and one should be loved for it!

THIS IS THE 600 WORD SHORT STORY WHICH I HAD WRITTEN FOR COMMONWEALTH WRITING COMPETITION 2010.

The aroma of freshly prepared rotis had enveloped the miniature kitchen. Amongst a dim lighted lamp and some old utensils sat Kaveri Amma, as fondly called by the villagers. It was time for her dinner. Like an every day custom, she prayed to God before consuming the little she had prepared. Amma, in her late 60’s, mother of two sons, both well settled, was spending prime of her life in the ancestral house of her late husband.

As she lay quietly on the hand knitted rug, trying to figure out probable solution for her predicament, past reminiscences appeared before her. It felt as if it was just yesterday when she was married to Govind, who was nearly 15 years elder to her. A girl just 14, who played in streets, was suddenly the eldest daughter-in-law of Raghuvanshi Family. Along with Kaveri, 4 cows, a kilo of gold and silver utensils was send to the Raghuvanshi’s as a penalty of Kaveri’s dark complexion. But in spite of these offerings cum dowry, she was made to work continuously, without even attending to any of her genuine complains.

To muddle through the diverse responsibilities shouldered upon her was indeed a challenge. Right from getting up early at 4 for Morning Prayer, to sweeping the entire house, to cooking the varieties before the clock struck 12, to taking lunch to the farm for her husband and brother-in-law, to again cooking dinner and simultaneously managing other petite tasks like attending to frequent calls of her in-laws, to shopping out for households, was all she did on a daily basis. And amongst all this, she tried to figure out what an institution like marriage actually meant?

She got an acceptance into family after delivery of her first baby and that too not because her husband loved her as of now or her in-laws developed a sense of care for her but because she was on the threshold of continuing their generation. This period of 9 months was like a queen’s reign for her. She named it and it was at her service, the best of clothes, eatables and whatever she desired for.

Kuwar, a fair complexioned baby boy, liberated her from being a blotch on the pride of Raghuvanshis’.

And out of the blue, things transformed for her. She discovered new facets of life, motherhood marking the very start. With each step Kuwar took forth, a novel quandary was waiting for this inexperienced girl. And she, with all her efforts, was ready to combat them. Yes, there was someone to help her now, Govind. He was in love with her. Life changed its connotations; she became a wife genuinely after she became a mother.

And then life began. She felt like a bird that could spread its wings, fly high, and explore the vastness of existence. Marriage, love, commitment, she could now completely relate to. The perception of her in laws also revolutionized with elapse of time, she became more of a daughter than daughter-in-law.

This was the house where she was brought 54 years back. She acquired different roles that of a wife, a mother, a daughter-in-law, a mother-in-law and finally a grandmother, and this dwelling were evident of her being just to each of it. She could feel each of the brick reciting her past life, the air gently tickling her and reminding her of all those rejuvenating moments. A young girl as delicate as a petal transformed into an emotionally and physically stable woman here. She had made her decision, her heart and soul resides here, and she would breathe h er last here.