How true. Gone are the days of Chitrahaar and Rangoli for which I still remember the amount of begging I did or the number of sums I finished half-heartedly in a losing bargain with my dad. My TV addiction got completely cured with time and now when I do get time, I despise staring at the idiot box.
My days of hitch-hiking to college were also short lived as were the friendship I made on my way. Every mode of transport I tried and now the time has come when jam packed busses give me a scare.
My “who cares” days were cut short too. And with it disappeared my boy-cut hairdo and extra large clothing. Marriage finally took me over and responsibilities mellowed me down. Today, I care for every relative, their opinion on my dressing sense, my better halves favourite colour etc…the list goes endless.
The most unfortunate of all is that my foodie heart has learnt to compromise. Earlier nothing less than a Biryani would do for me whereas now a low calorie sub without mayo or cheese suffices. “People should love me the way I am” has died a premature death. And I make every effort to look good and work hard to keep my age a supreme secret.
Wish we would never grow up and let things be the way they were always.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Missing U
The truth is ‘Relationship’ doesn’t come with a warranty card.
Yet, the over enthusiastic heart always think otherwise.
Take for instance, my second hand Maruti 800 which didn’t come with tall promises.
And I never realized that my association with my old car would run deep. Much deeper than I thought.
So, what if it didn’t have any power steering? And I had to gather all my might while steering the wheels when it was fully loaded.
So, what if its suspension and brake were showing traces of aging? And driving uphill always came with the double risk of automatically reaching downhill on a reverse note.
So, what if its horn were due retirement for long? And almost every night after work would refuse to blow.
Still it was mine. Treading through the chaotic lanes of my city S.
Never failing me. Never refusing to take me home.
Today, when it’s long gone, I cherish the odd hours when me and my old car would together travel miles in the deserted lanes, feeling safe in the company of each other.
The day I exchanged it for a new one, my heart ached and my eyes kept searching for the familiar grey.
But it was gone even before I blinked my eye. Didn’t even get a chance to say bye.
All I do is pray so that the old fellow does get it much earned retirement.
Yet, the over enthusiastic heart always think otherwise.
Take for instance, my second hand Maruti 800 which didn’t come with tall promises.
And I never realized that my association with my old car would run deep. Much deeper than I thought.
So, what if it didn’t have any power steering? And I had to gather all my might while steering the wheels when it was fully loaded.
So, what if its suspension and brake were showing traces of aging? And driving uphill always came with the double risk of automatically reaching downhill on a reverse note.
So, what if its horn were due retirement for long? And almost every night after work would refuse to blow.
Still it was mine. Treading through the chaotic lanes of my city S.
Never failing me. Never refusing to take me home.
Today, when it’s long gone, I cherish the odd hours when me and my old car would together travel miles in the deserted lanes, feeling safe in the company of each other.
The day I exchanged it for a new one, my heart ached and my eyes kept searching for the familiar grey.
But it was gone even before I blinked my eye. Didn’t even get a chance to say bye.
All I do is pray so that the old fellow does get it much earned retirement.
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