Skip to main content

MA&PA.....

They make it to so hard for us(me& my sis) to live up to their standards.

I am talking about my parents.

My dad is right behind me, bickering over my dirty window panes....moms in the kitchen doing something(she doesnt cook!).
Nothing much is happening. Its 8:30 am and i am awake, which is phenomenal..lolz. They both work and yeah these days they leave together(my mom gets a car ride till the station). The water connection in the kitchen and their bedroom is stalled due to some building repair work, so everything is being done in my bathroom. Not that i mind...even if i do, well cant do do much abt it. Mom is forever fussing that dad spends too much time in the loo or he's fussing about her sleeping too much. Signs of old age...as we say.
But thats not all. They might yell(happens sometimes now) at eachother or a cold war that doesnt last more than a few mins more but they are TOGETHER!!
My dad has an annoying habbit of reading out the news before anybody else can. Even if mum is reading something else he will interupt her. This happens everyday but they still sit together to read the news paper. She decides& colour co-ordinates his clothes, hands him his kerchief, the comb& all that.He makes her tea every sunday morning. Whenever he can, he gets things she likes to eat.She is yelling again. He is the calm one, she is hypersensitive. He loves shopping for her sarees and she for his shirts. She would wear even the saree which the least pretty looking, because my dad got her. New clothes are only to be worn when they go out together. She follows him like a lamb.He will stay up to watch football matches and everytime his favorable team goals, he'll waker her up.
They work at two different ends of the city(literally), call up atleast thrice in the day out of no reason. On sundays she cooks him all his favourite bong dishes without even him telling. He is an over protective father and she is a friend. They may be sulking(mostly mom) but still would hang around each other.She loves dancing and he has two left feet, yet he will accompany her to the dance floor and just be there. Just this morning, they shared the same dye(hair colour) solution.
These are little things. Very everyday to them and to us. But all things are very essential.Its not perfect but then thank god! its beautiful.
No. Today is not parents day or their anniversary or anything. Its just that i am awake and yeah i can see them going about, fussing, chatting& yeah yelling. its fun.

I'm blessed!!! TOUCHWOOD.....

Comments

  1. Lovely..i just loved ure post...really well written..

    ReplyDelete
  2. felt it touchy for i kind of share that kind of relationship with JP

    ReplyDelete
  3. wow. your parents sound amazing.

    a perfect pair. i love those little things that husbands and wives do for each other, even if it is bickering or complaining or odd, but those little things make the relationship what it is, i believe.

    ReplyDelete
  4. haha! they say marriages are made in heaven!
    well, I guess ur parents' marriage really was! :D nice post!
    nicely written! :)

    peace & love
    Jeevy

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

GO ahead, say it out loud!

Popular posts from this blog

#Sorry not sorry

I feel sorry for ‘Sorry’ – such an abused term. When you come to think of it, it is just a word, right? It holds significance in some instance and at times, it is a mere excuse. But we humans absolutely love it as an excuse, don’t we? I use this term a lot; I mean a lot! I think of myself as a kind being, and hence, if I happen to push or ignore (deliberate), I say ‘sorry’. I say sorry for things that may not need a ‘sorry’. I say ‘sorry’ to people I am not really feeling sorry for (don’t read this the wrong way). In short, I say ‘sorry’ a lot like I have already admitted. It is my ticket to moving on, a ticket to redeem myself for mistakes and sometimes, tinged with slight sadness (maybe).


But is ‘Sorry’ the right word? Mean, is it even appropriate? Like they say, first you commit the murder and then say sorry. What is the point of it? I would say nothing. Sorry – the term originated from the West Germanic term Sore that evolved to Sarig, meaning pained or distressed. It is also known…

Mind vs the heart

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Picture courtesy: Google. Only for representation purpose.
Standing on the highway, Roads leading both ways to somewhere, I stand still and wonder, Where do I belong?
The soothing lullabies of the green mist fairies call.  With promises to wrap me in the cool calm fog, Holding me in wet, gentle caresses, lulling the storm within. 
The call of the shrill, salt-laden sea sirens,  from the sun-baked rocks, Pull me back To join them as they make me one, in the fathomless abyss of wonders unseen. 
I lament my fragile being,  Born with one heart, not two, Torn between the ebb and flow of waves, And earthy scents in muddy dew. 
Both offer me refuge,  Cloaking me whole in their embrace, Dust to dust, flesh to flesh and soul to soul. 
In this battle between the mind and the heart, The heart but loses steam,  Leaving me stranded on a path to nowhere, never to be seen. 
My mind has been wrought with depression and all things crappy. This is a result of binge-watching a…

I Wonder What Ants do on Rainy Days…

Source: Google Images
On days when the sun has abandoned us, hiding behind the grey, moody clouds. Do they sit inside their hills and wonder out loud? Do they stare outside at the rain, measuring the raindrops, letting thoughts splotch all over? Does the earthy petrichor take them down the memory lane? Or are they content with what nature has to offer? It is a part of their lives, isn’t it? They dredge up foods daily, diligently build their hills, even if it is to serve their queen, only to enjoy it on days like this, no? Maybe they do take stock of things, of their bearings. They ought to sleep it off, take a day to rest or do they lament on the lost time?
Unlike me.
When I gaze out, a gazillion thoughts fly by; some worthy of the pen, some so disturbing that I often question my sanity. I like the grey skies though. They seem like textured canvases waiting for me to scribble something. The lazy raindrops wetting the streets below and casting a temporary stain on window ledges bring a…