Open When It's Christmas

It was about to be 12, just 6 minutes left. Betty was sitting under the Christmas tree gazing the fire burning in the fireplace. Her eyes didn't look as elated as every person's at the Christmas eve are. Deep down there were lumps of sadness in her heart. There were deep secrets buried down that only she knew and never let anyone else get a hint of it. A tear or two rolled down from her red and shabby skin, seemed like her skin was dry but not more dry than her heart.

"My heart instead of beating, bleeds." She said more to herself;  turning her gaze from the fireplace to the portrait hung on the wall adjacent to her.
"No festivities without you is merry." She further said letting out a deep sigh.

Betty lost her husband Maurice 10 years back, ever since then she led her life alone. No other man could make a room in her heart. It had always been Maurice she had seen with her. She had always said to people who asked her to marry another man, "I can probably forget Maurice if I marry another man but the love and emotions he has given me is unforgettable." She had always wished to see Maurice once he was in his last days but the distance between them crept in and unfortunately she could not see him. Maurice left Betty for the war of social well being, promising that he would return but a mob of agitated souls killed him under their stumping feet. He was hospitalized but ensured that Betty didn't know. He died after 2 days on the hospital bed. It was the daily newspaper that broke the news to Betty. It was too late for Betty to see her husband once. She couldn't even be there on his funeral to bid him a farewell from this unending world of emotions.

She still wished to feel his presence once.

The clock struck 12 and it was the Christmas, a festival that every individual is anticipated about. Betty got up and opened the chunky wooden chest placed on the corner. She took out a glass jar that had little envelops of different color. Each envelop had something written on them.
It said, "Open when..."

Maurice gave that jar to Betty before leaving. He told her to open each letter when it's the right time. The last letter she opened was on her birthday. The next letter she was supposed to open was now. Searching among the colored envelops she found the right one. On it was written, "Open when it's Christmas." She opened the envelop deliberately and on it was written:

Dear Betty, I wish you a Merry Christmas &

a very Happy New Year. Wish I could be there with you this Christmas 

and snuggle with you and hear your sweet voice. 

I love you, Betty.

Wish anything you want, and I promise I'll get you that.

Just make a wish.

Yours, Maurice.

There were tears in Betty's eyes. She had so many wishes to make. She wished to have a family again with Maurice. She wished to have Maurice again in her life. She wished to have the old times back. But she knew none of them were possible. She took a deep breath and wiped her tears thinking that Maurice won't like her to cry on Christmas. She held the letter close to her heart and closed her eyes.

She started thinking about the beautiful times she had spent with Maurice.

"Maurice Merry Christmas! Wish you were here with me today. I miss your presence a lot. I have a wish to make, hope you will fulfill it. I wish to see you once. I wish to hold you once. I wish to kiss you once. I wish that at least once I feel your presence with me. Please come, just for once."

Betty started crying again but this time not silently. Her heaves were loud enough for the walls to hear. Suddenly between heaves she heard her name being called. 

"Betty.." She knew it was Maurice's voice.

She stood up to look around but couldn't find anyone. She heard her name again. She heard the voice was coming from the main door. She ran to open the door. As she opened the door a strong breeze swooshed inside. She inhaled the breeze. It had Maurice's fragrance. Betty's heart beat fastened, her heart flushed with mixed emotions. 

"Maurice is that you?" 

"Betty," the voice said. "Close your eyes," a voice whispered.

She closed her eyes and felt a firm hold on her shoulder. She opened to see Maurice in front of her, tightly holding her in his arms. She was about to say something but Maurice kissed her. It was the best kiss Betty could receive. Maurice was with her after all this time. 

"I'm always with you," Maurice said holding her face. 

He lifted her and took her to the bedroom where they had spend their happiest times together. He tucked Betty in the bed covers and turned off the lights. Betty was holding Maurice's hand and was smiling. She was too happy, eternally to have him with her. She was unaware when did she escaped all the sorrows, all the sadness. She fell asleep.

In the morning she woke up with freshness in her mind. She was happy, her eyes told that. But the happiness soon changed into worry. She couldn't find Maurice besides her. She looked and screamed out his name but got no response. She was agitated but suddenly saw an envelop on which was written, "Open when you wake up." Betty opened and read out what was written on it:

Dear Betty, hope your wish to feel my presence once,

got fulfilled. I am always with you. 

I love you!

yours, Maurice.

"I love you Maurice, I love you," She cried.

Why Our Society is Male Dominating?

Ever since the Earth is formed and God sent Adam and Eve, our Earth is male dominating. It's not because male are actually dominating and powerful. It is because female thinks that they have less power. Today's society is weird! Even though there are rallies or visual aids or advertisements claiming that female are no less and can perform well in any field, there are various elements that make them less powerful. going deeper into the title, one thing clicks my mind. It's that that female are getting weaker with every passing decade.

A woman waits for her husband to call while he is in the office. A girlfriend waits for her boyfriend to wish her on her birthday. Female are drowning as they wait. While talking of a regular Indian female, her life revolves only around her male counterpart. She has to serve meals to her husband, wash his clothes, prepare his bed, maintain his home and sometimes even have to help him financially by earning. If all women think differently and start their life with dignity, bet our society will be dominated my female.

A woman out there wears a short top, a girl wears a mini skirt and a fat lady tries on some pants. We guys don't give another thought but just comment (whether speaking in mind or loudly). And the female on whom the comments are made will never try any outfit again. But why? Because she thinks that society matters the most.

Male are dominating because women let them dominate. Stop waiting for the phone calls, stop expecting, stop feeling guilty about trying new outfits and in language of youngsters, fuck off, basically!

Ladies, it's our society and we of course occupy 50% of it legally. Don't let your counterparts dominate you. Polish yourself and shine bright. It's okay if  you do what you want and society doesn't accept it. It is okay! 

The Topaz Mansion

In 1964 when I left India and went with my father to Rome,  I cried a lot for my beautiful cottage in Almorha where I used to live. After so many years I finally got a golden chance to visit it again. As a child, I used to play in mulberry orchards spread behind our cottage. Delicious were those days and those mulberries.

As I was relishing those days, someone patted on my shoulder. It was the bus conductor.

"Bhai saheb, due to the cold weather the engine of the bus has stopped working. It will take a lot of time to get it fixed. You can come out near the bon fire," he insisted.

"Oh, I am fine here," I gently smiled.

I opened my luggage and took out my camera. I just loved it! The day my mother left, this camera became my best friend. Whenever I see it, a chill sensation pass through my nerves. Deja vu.

Cold breeze fell on my face and I was startled by the fragrance of the sandalwood trees. The woods around me were irresistible. I felt like going around the woods and click the pictures of large trees which were covered by the magnificent moon light. I hung my camera around my neck and went towards the woods. Someone shouted from behind.

"Bhaiya ji, don't go there. People say that these woods are haunted." It was the bus conductor.

I simply tried to ignore and said him, "Don't worry. I have a special connection with these haunted forests." I winked and left.

_________________________________________________________________________________

"Beautiful!" I spoke with my mouth gaping and eyes bulging. What made me feel surprised was that beautiful mansion. There was a typical warmth around the mansion. I felt exotic. I took out my camera and clicked it's photographs from all the possible angles. I peeped inside through the back gate. There was a dead silence all around. I wished to go inside. I rang the bell. I waited for two minutes outside but no one came. I got little depressed. Suddenly, I heard someone comming. It was the watchman.

"Sir? What do you need?"

"I just wanted to look around the mansion."

"Who is there watchman?" said the third voice.

A tall, well built, middle aged man appeared. He looked at me and smiled.

"Sir, I am startled by the architecture and the construction of your house. I wanted to ask if I could see it from inside?"

"Oh yes! Sure! Why not? Come in. This is my Topaz Mansion." he said and grandly opened the main door.

As he opened the door, my eyes glimmered. Everything felt like a dream. Such a beautiful mansion in the woods! Everything was so very much beautiful. The walls were painted grandly. There were beautiful art pieces.

"Can I take some pictures, please?"

"Yes sure. And here comes my wife and daughter."

The lady looked nice. Her beautiful face showed that she had grown mature gracefully. Along with her was a sweet girl of about nineteen or twenty. She looked charming just like the half- bloomed orchids.

"Good Evening," I wished them.

"Good Evening gentleman," both of them spoke in unison.

I was viewing the whole mansion carefully, praising each and every detail. Suddenly, I saw an idol of Devi Maa. On the idol was a glittering and an expensive topaz.

"Is it Topaz? It's beautiful!" I exclaimed.

"yes, it is. It is the most expensive topaz that was found in Tipu Sultan's treasure," said the Mansion Minister.

"Okay. So, that is why this mansion is named as The Topaz Mansion?"

"Yes, you're right," he replied with a grin.

Thunder, storm and lightening started. In that particular weather I felt comfortable in the cosy library of the mansion. Mansion minister and I were talking along with our glasses filled with whiskey.

The clock struck twelve!

"Oh God, I've to rush back," I said in a hurry.

"It's okay, I don't think the bus will move tonight. What a bad weather it is. Why don't you stay here tonight in our guest room?"

"Sir, I need to go. My luggage is still in the bus."

"Go and bring your luggage. You will get another bus tomorrow morning," he insisted.

At last I agreed to what he was saying. I reached the bus and collected my luggage. I informed the driver about it.

_________________________________________________________________________________

I rang the bell. No one came. I rang it the second time and then the third time. There wasn't any response. I felt bad in that terrible weather. Then, someone opened the door.

"yes?" an old man came out.

"May I meet the minister please?"

My voice faded away in the noise of the thunder.

"Oh son, come in first. It's really bad outside."

I entered and I saw the same idol of Devi Maa but the topaz was missing. I went numb.

"What were you saying child?" asked the old man.

"Where...is the minister...and his family? And that..topaz? Over there....it ..is missing?" I was blurting down on my own words.

"Just wait a minute," he said and went in a room near the gallery. He came back with a photograph in his hand.

"Look! This is the minister and his family. In the background is the same statue along with the topaz."

"Where are they now?" I was getting impulsive.

"They were dead 10 years ago in a road accident. they were going for an auction with the topaz. From that day the topaz isn't here. It is missing. No one could find it again," he said with a grim expression on his face.

I tried escaping from there. I was out of my senses. I ran fast and stopped to catch my breath. Later, I realized that I forgot my camera in the mansion. My camera was my life. I ran back.

What I saw was...

There was no mansion and the rain drops were falling off freely. The darkness was spread all over. In the corner, under a sandalwood tree was my camera. I picked it up.

There were no pictures of the mansion that I clicked. 

  

Why Does Every Book Smell Different?

The day started with a knock on the door of her penthouse. Rubbing her eyes and wearing a night gown, she stepped out of her room to see who was there at the door. It was cold and her bare feet on cold marble made her shiver more. As she opened the door, there was a box. A cardboard box that looked somewhat worn out of edges. She grinned ear to ear because she was aware about what was inside the box. She looked for the courier boy who must have come to deliver the box but she found none. Shrugging her shoulders she saw her name on the box, "Rabia Kaushal." She nodded to herself as if to tell that the box is right and it belonged to her. As she was about to push the box inside her home, she heard a sudden voice, "Ma'am sign here before taking the parcel." Rabia signed on the piece of paper as the right owner of the parcel and pushed the box inside.

Finally locking the door behind she gave a sigh. She couldn't wait to open the box and sniff. Sniff? Well, yes, she was fond of sniffing. No, she wasn't a dog. She went to the kitchen and brought a knife. Carefully she unpacked the large box and removed the bubble wrap. Next what she saw was enough to make her extremely joyous. There were books, old and new. There were books of every size. There were hardbound books and the paper back too. The box was full of it. Finally, she had them in her hands. Those were his Appa's (Father's) books. On the top of it was a book that she admired the most as a kid. "The Little Prince," the title of the book said. She fluttered the pages and sniffed. She picked out every book from the box and sniffed. She looked at the books and felt the pages. The aroma was pleasurable, more pleasurable than a cheese burst pizza.

Smiling wide, there was a twinkle in her eyes. The twinkle was due to the moistness in her eyes. She said to herself, "Why does every book smell different?" That's what she used to ask her Appa when she was a little girl. She remembered what her Appa used to answer,"Rabia every book smell differently because every book has a different character and every character has a different feeling. the prince in your story book is young and vibrant, the detective in my book is master mind. And that Cinderalla's step mom in your book? She is wicked. The book smells differently because of the characters."

Rabia always used to listen her Appa's answer carefully but still she couldn't understand it well. Her heart demanded something more. Books for Rabia were more than a bundle of pages inked with words. That morning, she was sitting on the ice cold floor but still not shivering. She could feel her Appa's warmth. She could feel it in her blood.

That One Nightmare!

I could sense that. Fear. Raging inside me as I opened my eyes to start a fresh day. I knew that this day would be the worst day of my life. But somewhere in the deepest corner of my heart hope was still there. Hope of reaching the point. Hope of getting positive outcome. I never thought this day would not be like the regular days.

You might be thinking what was so fearful? Well, it was my result day. From last fifteen years of attending school, giving exams and getting report card, I never felt so remorseful. But this time it was different. I could see the red "F" mark on my report card haunting me. I knew that I screwed my exams. I knew I would fail. "Still miracles could happen," I thought. (But, what can God do? Get me 10 marks extra from somewhere? Duh!) I was wrong. I wasted my time. I never knew time was such a whore.


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I reached there. The place where I stood face to face with my report card. I tried to get back my senses but I went numb. All my fears came alive as I saw that I couldn't get passing marks in that one hateful subject. At that time I hated myself more than that subject. I hated my ways, I hated my books.

Once a bright child... now a failure!

I could see my parents from the corner of my eyes, who were standing behind me. I couldn't relate to their expressions if they were angry or sad. They were flowing in the mixed emotions of grief and rave. I couldn't fathom what was happening.

As I stood there, a sharp sound covered my ears.

It was my morning alarm.

Thank You!

Dear Readers,
It gives me immense pleasure to tell you that the three parts of "love comes to those who wait", were actually the first three chapters of my manuscript. I wanted to write something strong and different to persuade the publishers. I'm happy that all of you not only admired my writing but also liked the plot and characters. I hope soon after I complete my grade 12, I present before you my debut.

Stay tuned, the blog is still alive.
And, thanks to all once again. 

Love Comes to Those Who Wait [part- 3]

It was a chilly weather. The dusk looked alluring. Between the magnificent woods, there was a little cottage. Wind was striking the tinted window panes of the cottage. Harshita opened the gate of the cottage and entered through a narrow passage.

"Hi Home!" she said chirpily.

"Agya mera beta?" A middle aged woman in grey salwar-kameez embraced Harshita.

"Yes ammu. What's for the dinner?" She asked.

"Egg Curry"

"Ew! ammu you know I hate it," Harshita crincled her cute nose.

"How would Kasauli's best baker like my boring food," her mother taunted more in a funny way.

"Come on ammu! don't tease me this way. I'll help you set the dinner table," Harshita softly touched her mother's hand.

As the night grew deeper the little cottage lighted up. Between the sandalwood trees their little house was illuminated. Harshita and her mother kept themselves busy at the dining table. Their faces showed that they were somehow satisfied with life but the third plate kept untouched full of food showed something tempestuous in the house. Seeing the third plate Harshita finally broke the silence.

"Ammu, change yourself," Harshita had a stern expression on her face.

The beautiful daughter- mother moment was turning into something stressful.

"He will come," her mother said firmly.

"He won't come ever. He went never to come back. Why don't you just forget about it?" Harshita banged her hands over the table. She clenched her hands. Her pretty eyes turned red.

"He is your father," her mother said meekly drooping her eyes.

"He was my father until he decided to leave us alone. He was my father until he started hitting you. He was my father until he refused to give my university fee. He can never be my father. He..." Harshita broke into silent moans.

"Ammu...I..I just don't want to think about the man who left you for a younger woman," Harshita spoke further.

"Beta..,"

"Ammu, I have to prepare an order and send it early in the morning. Good night." Harshita see-offed her mother rudely and smashed the door of her room.

The food was left untouched. The chairs remained lifeless. Harshita's mother removed the plates from the dining table. She silently sobbed. Her past was haunting her. She wanted a happy family like everyone else's. She felt herself to be unlucky. She tried making a home but could not integrate the members of her family. She loved Harshita and all she wanted was to keep her away from the bad memories of her father.

"Why did you do this to us Rajesh?" she led off the tears from her eyes.