The Life@Here

I remember...It wasnt long ago...I walked past that girl on the street. The fleeting glimpse we shared was enough. I realised she had something I couldnot think of; something I had dreamt of every time I slept in peace. She had a life...

I've finally boiled down to a machine. A mere block sitting in front of another machine; I cant think of the last time I looked at the moon and sang a song to myself. The last time I cried for that favourite serial replayed the nth time. The last time I had a hearty laugh not worried of who was looking at the goof.

I wanted to be her in more ways than one to think of. Wanted to stop worrying what tommorow might bring; stop thinking about what would be the appraisal of the girl in the next cubicle; not think of why my boss hated me enough to mess with my ranks; Not think of how unfair this world was. For once I wanted to be free...educated enough to realise that a lot of these trivial details wouldnt matter in the end afterall.
For a man who cannot smile with his eyes is as much a zombie, isnt he..?

Mama Am comin home!

Times have changed..Times are strange...
Here I come but I aint the same...
Mama Am Comin home...!
(Mama Am comin home , Ozzy Osbourne)

Oh! That twinkle in her eyes, the minute I walked back in. Four years of independance had taught me things she knew naught of. I realised she was going to be disappointed. For I had turned out to be a total stranger to her in the last few years. True I was there with her all holidays; true we spent our festivities together. But it was not the same. I was not her baby doll any more; I dint like being a baby doll any more.

Her daughter was to grow up into a perfect house lady. Adept at managing not just her usual chores but of the ones around too. She was her Daddy's pet; dressed, ate, spoke and walked like how her daddy wanted her to. She woke up well before the sun, to make sure the others at home saw a pleasant morn. Worked her ass out to make sure there's not a resident grime in her territory. Her clothes were in place, her linen were perfect starched and her heart was alive till they wanted it to. She could sacrifice her pleasures for those of others. Yes, She could..!

But what she got was an individual. One who liked her story better when written for herself. What if the blotches spoilt the pretty painting.? It was still her creation.! From the first stroke down to the last rub. It had to be hers. She needed no more spoons. She could eat on her own, what if with bare hands. Life was for granted, so why worry about the mondane.? You would live, whether ya saw the sun at 5 or 10. Why bother.? Life you lived was for you and your closest lovers. Why worry if Neeta aunty thought Indian girls wore only salwars or if Gopicha dint like your new hair colour.? Why bother..?

No.! This is going to be difficult. I can see her frowning at my staid( She walks like a tom boy now.!). Its all cause of the dreaded hostel they decide. If only they'd kept me with them for those years.? If only they'd spoon fed me all along.? They would've had their ideal girl.!
Their Girl. The Daddy's Girl.!

Mama, Let your son Go...Mama, Let your heart Go...
Mama, Let your son go free...
(Mama Said , Metallica)