The Quran says there are angels all around us... Around you… Around me... Guiding us through the right path and keeping us away from evils... But we can’t see them... But tell you what guys... I have seen an angel! An angel who is very close to me... An angel who has been with me from the day ZERO... It’s my mum. My sweet mum! Speaking about her... Well, I really don’t have words to describe her. She is one heaven of a mother. Am her first child. I was lucky enough to have my mum’s complete love and attention till the age of 6. Then my brother came. Even though I was very happy the first few months, slowly my feelings became a mixture of jealousy (because my mum spent too much time with him) and of course my love was being shared. I didn’t like the scenario a bit. My mum was (and still is!) very fond of my brother. Maybe it goes with the fact that mothers have more liking to their sons. Whatever!
My mum and I were never really close to each other. I mean we were close. But that was in the theoretical sense. We never had that bond between us which many of my friends always boasted about. I never used to feel home with her. Yes, she would listen to my news, would accompany me wherever I went and of course did everything for me. But we lacked that specific chemistry between us. I wanted her to understand me like no one else does. I wanted her to support me 24x7. I wanted her to hold my hands and guide me through the darkness. I wanted her to wipe away my tears when I cried. In short I wanted her to be my friend. But she never got time. She was always busy with one thing or another. I resented her attitude towards me. I resented myself. I resented my whole existence. There were times when I hated myself even. I felt dejected. But I loved her. I loved her with all my heart.
I would never say (wont dare to say!) that my mum didn’t love me. She loved me a lot. She cared for me like no one ever would. But she didn’t spend time with me. After I joined hostel, we barely talked. Either I was busy or she was. But that’s all past. The status of my relationship with my mum changed dramatically in the last few weeks. It happened quite unexpectedly. I made my mum cry! I have never quite forgiven myself since that incident. I did a grave mistake by making her cry. All I could do to rectify the mistake was to cry along with her. We talked a lot that night. I lay on her chest and talked till my throat was sore.
I never had the guts to look up at her face and speak out my heart. But I wanted to show my love for her. Mum… If you ever read this… Just know… I LOVE YOU. You are a treasure to me. A gift to me from the great God. I love you mum…
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
MY HOSTEL LIFE
I live in a hostel... for the past 3 years. It had always been a wish of mine to taste the freedom of being away from home. I joined this hostel (its better to call this a ‘cell’) on October 6th 2006. It was a new experience altogether. New environment, new faces, new rules and of course there was the newly found freedom. I intended to enjoy each and every bite of it. My room is kind of a dormitory which can occupy 10 beds. In the beginning stage (the 1st year), there were 9 of us from the same class and 1 from another branch. After a period of 2 months, 1 of my roommates left the hostel due to some problems. And after a year, another 1 left to join a different room. Since then we have seen many faces occupying those 2 beds but none stayed long (I think there is some sort of curse in there!)
Life was always tough being under a set of nuns whose main hobby was finding faults in everything we do. (It’s still the same scenario!) But there was fun in those crude remarks from them also. It’s after I joined this hostel I learned that there are ugly ducklings among the nuns too. I always thought there were the messengers of God. But those in my hostel proved it wrong. They prayed 24x7. I have no idea what they are asking from God after crucifying us. Talking about the food, it was nothing far from worse. Every night, we found various types of herbs and plant parts on our plates. In the beginning, we just had to go to our mess hall and help ourselves from the platter of food kept on our tables. My roommates and I were always the first to go to the mess hall. One reason being the unbearable hunger and the other reason being we were the nearest to the hall. Well, there’s another reason. We simply wanted to get over with the Herculean task of gobbling down what they had in store for us.
After a couple of years, they changed the mess system to buffet. Buffet in the sense, now, the kitchen servants will serve the food. We just have to go and wait in the queue for our turn. Phew... It was tough for us in the beginning to adjust to the new routine. But now as I think about it I have a feeling it’s much better than the last.
Until a couple of months ago, we could wear our night dresses according to our wish. We could wear anything. But now the whole scenario has changed due to the weird fashionable sense of some of my hostel mates. One day, as we walked down to the mess hall, there was a new notice on our notice board.
“Everyone should wear only churidars and long skirts with blouse!”
The very notice ignited the fire of laughter in us. If we can’t wear what we like in the hostel what is the point in saying it’s a woman’s hostel. No one really followed the new commandment until one morning we found the notice laying burnt on the floor. We smelled trouble. As we guessed, some 3-4 days later, the warden appeared in the mess hall (as she always does whenever there was some serious matter to be discussed!). She was seething and radiated heat in all directions. She started pointing her accusing fingers on everyone and went around questioning. No one had answers and no one really bothered about her tantrums. Any one with a clue was requested to go forward and help her out. To this date, the culprit still remains in the dark. Hats off to her!
Life was always tough being under a set of nuns whose main hobby was finding faults in everything we do. (It’s still the same scenario!) But there was fun in those crude remarks from them also. It’s after I joined this hostel I learned that there are ugly ducklings among the nuns too. I always thought there were the messengers of God. But those in my hostel proved it wrong. They prayed 24x7. I have no idea what they are asking from God after crucifying us. Talking about the food, it was nothing far from worse. Every night, we found various types of herbs and plant parts on our plates. In the beginning, we just had to go to our mess hall and help ourselves from the platter of food kept on our tables. My roommates and I were always the first to go to the mess hall. One reason being the unbearable hunger and the other reason being we were the nearest to the hall. Well, there’s another reason. We simply wanted to get over with the Herculean task of gobbling down what they had in store for us.
After a couple of years, they changed the mess system to buffet. Buffet in the sense, now, the kitchen servants will serve the food. We just have to go and wait in the queue for our turn. Phew... It was tough for us in the beginning to adjust to the new routine. But now as I think about it I have a feeling it’s much better than the last.
Until a couple of months ago, we could wear our night dresses according to our wish. We could wear anything. But now the whole scenario has changed due to the weird fashionable sense of some of my hostel mates. One day, as we walked down to the mess hall, there was a new notice on our notice board.
“Everyone should wear only churidars and long skirts with blouse!”
The very notice ignited the fire of laughter in us. If we can’t wear what we like in the hostel what is the point in saying it’s a woman’s hostel. No one really followed the new commandment until one morning we found the notice laying burnt on the floor. We smelled trouble. As we guessed, some 3-4 days later, the warden appeared in the mess hall (as she always does whenever there was some serious matter to be discussed!). She was seething and radiated heat in all directions. She started pointing her accusing fingers on everyone and went around questioning. No one had answers and no one really bothered about her tantrums. Any one with a clue was requested to go forward and help her out. To this date, the culprit still remains in the dark. Hats off to her!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)