Alright. So, we have seen all those ads and TV series and movies. Everything that promotes fairness and how not being fair is a curse has been portrayed every now and then very prominently. Let’s be done with that already, can we? Enough with those unreal beauty standards defined by the society. Let’s face it, being fair or tall or having that “not really making sense” figure does not really get us anywhere in life. It is just another reason to point a finger at you, by people who really have nothing better to do. That’s it. That thin waist, that fair skin, and all that, that is not mandatory. It cannot make you feel good. If you are rotting within nothing can make you feel good. It is just like the nature you see. Some like the beaches, some find the mountains beautiful, some like the cities, and some just like the country side. They are all beautiful nonetheless. Let us take another example. How about we take some food into account. Dessert maybe? A chocolate cake? I loved chocolate cake. And the chocolate flavor, a lot. It was sumptuous to me, divine, love, orgasm. With time I got over it. Now I look at it, it is beautiful, but I would not pick that in the blink of an eye. But it did not lose its taste. It is still a delicacy sought by millions. It did not stop being made because I stopped liking it. It is still there, existing, flourishing, coming out with a better version of itself every now and then, not to impress me. Not really. We are not some restaurant or café who need great customer reviews to sell.

I might be expected to write something magical, that will suddenly magically touch the right nerve, and everything will change, and you will believe in yourself and start loving yourself. No! After reading millions of posts, poems, watching videos, I still could not. I could not believe that I am beautiful. I could not believe that I have qualities. I have been told, by many, morally pushed up and morally pulled down. And guess what? I was more inclined toward the pull down. So no, it would not happen in a day, probably not in a week, not in a month, not in a year either. Because it is the minuscule steps you take. It is how you decide to do it anyway even if you are bringing yourself down. I was a fat kid with nerdy looks. And I never cared. I did not bother to look good or put efforts. I was busy being a kid, a teenager, creating chaos in the class, being mischievous with friends, preparing for exams, learning how things work, setting up goals. I was not a very confident person back then either. Not at all. But I did not see the need for validation from someone else. I did not need to look good to someone else. But we grow up, we see more, we get into the society more, and that is when things got to me. I felt fat and I felt a misfit (still feel it). I want to grow out of this, but I cannot because I see people defining beauty standards and I cannot seem to be catching up. Those flawless skin, shiny hair, smooth hands, sexy dresses, those curves. I cannot seem to have any. Or maybe I just do not see me that way. To me I am still the fat nerd. The ugly tomboy. I have friends who constantly remind me that I am a quality human, a rare species (not bragging). But nothing gets through to me. I look into the mirror, I only see flaws. Being fair might not be my beauty definition. Mine could include a different list. Every time I want to get hold of it, it slips out of my hand. Imagine my despair! But that is probably because I have been waiting for validation. Validation from people who I don’t know, who don’t know me, who don’t care, who probably are not even aware of my existence. People who “don’t matter”.

I matter! My validation to me should matter. People cannot find you or me beautiful, that is up to them. “Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder”, heard that so many times. So why blame ourselves when they cannot see us beautiful. Why blame our body and tire our minds when our eyes too seem to be not working well? Why be so tough on ourselves? I have glasses on, I am myopic. Every time I go to an eye specialist the power of my glasses only increases. That should have taught me how bad my eyes are. I cannot even see my own reflection properly, I cannot even read something that is 3 meters away and there I sit judging myself. How is that fair? I see women walking by and I find them, each one of them beautiful and confident and so bold and shy and everything nice. And I look at myself and think why I couldn’t be that strong to feel that way about myself, to send the same vibe out to someone who is probably killing themselves over their looks. See, the problem lie in the roots.

But I am constantly trying. Not by trying beauty products, nope! But by eating right to keep me healthy. I am not trying to woo away the guys with my looks and throwing some unnecessary bone to them to draw attention, but constantly trying to get my mind away from negativity I have created about myself within me. I am not investing largely on some doctor to give me “society described look”, but I am going online and talking to people about our bodies, how it functions, how it changes with age, the hormonal effects, the nutrition requirements and I am grooming myself that way. I have spent a lot on beauty products, and trying to look good, and wanting to look good without wearing any make up. But no concealer and liner or beauty cream can make me feel good, but me! No beauty products really worked, unless you are using something to cool your skin, you know the refreshing feel in the summers. There I was successful. But otherwise it was a waste. Now I try and invest on my health instead. In pampering myself, getting the much-needed hair spa now and then, a nice mani-pedi, a soothing massage. I work out and I push my body to heal in the process. I have grown mentally and physically. I have grown so much to be able to move another girl and see beyond these beautifully and carefully designed standards. Yes, I am still failing to make myself feel that till now. And it’s okay, because the first thing is to be aware that the outside world does not get to validate me, unless it is my performance review at my job which determines my hike. I am my own validation and I know it. I just must work towards it.

So the point is you don’t need an hourglass figure to rock a bikini, you just need the bank balance (or an angel to gift it to you *wink*). So, go buy that dress that you liked and weren’t sure what society would think, or let your teeth sink into that cake that you love, then go for that run you need to feel liberated. Eat, sleep, exercise and invest in yourself, in what you want and not what the society thinks. Learn that language you love, learn MMA, get bruised, get rough or get married to the one you feel worth it and be happy making home with him/her. It is all on you. Grow as a person. Not for anyone else. Learn to be able to look at yourself in the mirror and smile and be flustered at the way you look at yourself with a desire to love yourself as if a lover so passionate. You are not born to make others feel good, or just to be married. You are not a baby making machine either. You are a lot more. You are a miracle. You are a blessing in every shape, size and color. You are beautiful and no magic words can make you feel that unless you let it break through to you. I am working on it. You should too. Do not look at the shiny hair or the flawless skin or the sexy dress next time a pretty lady passes you by. Instead see how she feels confident about herself, how she cares not about anyone, look how her boldness makes her beautiful. Look at that, take that from her. How she simply slays it. Because she is about that. It is tough, I get it. But you will never get there if you keep taking the wrong steps instead of the right. Even the biggest discoveries in science has room for variables. A healthy body and a healthy mind are your CONSTANT!

Let’s stop promoting the fairness cream and those supplements to enhance your assets. Let’s promote the girl now, let’s promote the women. Let’s promote Her. 

Story by: Tabassum Nasrat

In frame: Tabassum Nasrat

In the family of a debt-laden father and a bed-ridden mother, I am the elder sister to a 16 year old brother. Life has never been compassionate to my parents. Business never worked out, health never supported and finances were never sorted. Luckily, I qualified the entrance test and got myself an undergrad seat in one of the government college away from my hometown. Though the fee was way less than that of the private colleges, my parents used to struggle paying up on time. However, my mother made sure I completed my graduation, taking financial aid from her brothers. At the outset, I finished my studies with a fair result.

Post graduation, mother’s health started deteriorating further and we did not have sufficient money to give her care from a private hospitality. I was offered a job at a distant city, which I refused, only so I could give utmost attention to her. There was a list of expenses and liabilities laid in front of us, but no assets, no income to cope up with it. Father’s retail shop was of no good.

We were in a fix... Until one day, I saw our President, Dr. Kalam, delivering a speech to the students of a university. The moment he said ‘thank you’ and got off the stage, I knew who to seek for at this moment of disgust. I started following him.

The challenge, my young friends, is that you have to fight the hardest battle, and never stop fighting until you arrive at your destined place. What will be the tools with which you will fight this battle? They are: have a great aim in life, continuously acquire the knowledge, work hard and persevere to realize the great achievement.

My aim was pretty clear, but I started wondering how to channelize hard work and perseverance. Being the potentially stronger in the family, I was expecting my father to figure out everything. I fought with him for his negligence, cursed him for not working enough and almost murdered the respect that I had for him. But it wasn’t bringing out a change. Rather, it was worsening the situation.  

When it comes to us actually making a positive contribution to the system we lock ourselves into a safe cocoon and look into the distance at countries far away and wait for a Mr. Clean to come along & work miracles for us with a majestic sweep of his hand.

It struck me hard. What was I doing? I felt silly for pressuring and cursing my father. I finally stood up to be the magician myself. Mother’s medical urgency was prompting me again and again; and I knew I could not wait any longer. I started stressing on the different things that I should do to bring in some help. I asked my peers, teachers and relatives but no one showed enough concern. I applied to a number of jobs in my hometown but there were no vacancies. I personally visited them too, but the hiring season had gone past. My mother asked her brothers for help again, but they refused this time as the previous dues were not cleared.

We were slowly losing hope. In the process, my mother started undergoing mental traumas. I was running into a distressed state where everything was turning black. I could not see any rays of hope, recovery or sanity. I found myself staring at the ceiling with a blank mind. Doubts started creeping in; will we be able to make it?

We are as young as our faith and as old as our doubts. We are also as young as our self-confidence and as old as our fears. We are as young as our hopes and as old as our despairs.

I got up. I needed more of it, I needed inspiration... before it was too late.

Creativity is seeing the same thing as everybody else, but thinking of something different.

All I could see was an end. What was beyond the end? A door? But where was it? I was sitting with my mother while we were going through old photographs. The smiles that we were adorning in the pictures made the moment nostalgic and saddening at the same time. There were pictures of birthdays, anniversaries and other insignificant, but memorable milestones. We came across a picture in which I was holding a big smile, a trophy bigger than my face and a certificate. Mother and I simultaneously remembered that I was awarded the ‘Artist of the year’ at school. She remembered how I used to draw on all the walls of my grandparents’ home, how I repurposed wedding cards into birthday cards, how I made gift boxes out of cardboards of used products....

 Just then, my mind started churning. She was in a happy state of recollecting the long-gone happy days but I was suddenly not paying attention anymore.

That was my moment of creative being.

I realised, I was not putting my talent to work. Graduation business took away my zeal of making paintings and creating new things out of nothing. I started missing all of it. But keeping everything apart, I knew what to do now. I knew now, that there is a door beyond the end- I had to paint it myself!

Excellence happens not by accident. It is a process. You have to work hard to achieve it.

I ordered stationary supplies and started off. I took as much time during the day and worked nights together. Some days, I got only a couple of hours of sleep in total. My mother started worrying but she knew I wouldn’t stop.

 I worked hard with perseverance. Finally, I came out with a series of paintings, collectibles and gift items. It took time, a long time; but it was worth it. I approached a few galleries and they agreed to buy them at a handsome price. My creations were sold out within less than a month and I was left with a pocket full of solutions.

Everything started to fall into place. My mother recovered, I arranged a small toy shop for my father and little brother acquired his degree too. Things were not super great but we were just okay.

 I owe my success, my mother’s life and family’s stability to the finesse, Kalam. His words were enough to kindle the light in me. In short, he saved me.

I would like to ask you, what would you like to be remembered for? You have to evolve yourself and shape your life. Write your dreams down on a piece of paper. That page may be a very important page in the book of human history.

I looked around the room to find my place; on the left side of the door was a supplanted centre table full of baggage, next to it was a maroon polished almirah that touched the other wall, attached to which was the floral carved wooden double bed full with sleepers and next to that was my sister sitting on the floor stitching her blouse. There was an old computer table on my right that now served as another baggage counter. I found myself in middle of nowhere. Middle! That clicked me and I settled on the floor near the almirah.

Somewhere I felt middle-class to be a social name for poverty, I realised this when I glanced the room for the last time before I took a deep breath to start. And the moment I took out the nail clipper to cut my nails a sharp but curious voice held me in between, “you can’t cut nails at night.” And I faced up to see my cousin on the bed. How did I overlook her while observing the room? I thought... and then I overlooked her one more time. “You DON’T cut nails at night.” she was restless this time. “Yes you don’t”, a voice with more authority came this time; it was my sister’s. 

I continued cutting my long dirty nails and asked them the reason for not doing so at that hour of the night. And for no surprise they were ready with the answers.

Cousin: one loses money if they cut nails at night.

Me: whose money?

Cousin: areyy! Your money, you fool.

Me: who told you this?

Cousin: I know.

Me: how?

Sister: you would have known it too if you listen to our elders... you are a girl...

There is a time you know you need to take the blame and call off the conversation because; if you stretch it anymore it can get deadly. It was that time. I nodded and ignored them at the same time.

I had a sleep. NOT GOOD. NOT SWEET-DREAMY. JUST- SLEEP. It was so because I got to sleep amid various snoring as our tiny middle-class home had no soundproof rooms or in better terms... the doors didn’t close due to seepage.

Tujhko uda kar ke!

Tujhko uda kar ke!

Tujhko uda kar ke le jaaenge badri ki dulhaniya...

I woke up confused to whether I was dreaming of an item song. But! It was television. Drawing room and my bedroom, which was not exclusively mine, were happened to be planned diagonally opposite, separated by a small dining. And slowly as I gained conscience the song was accompanied by other background scores...

 Nani: roti banao jaldi jaldi tiffin bharna hai.

Ma- aai thamb! Ban rahi roti, tu bas.

Mami- kab jate hai chinu aor saha kam par...

And it went on. It was not every day that we had this many people in our house but Chinu’s birthday was some occasion for them to reunite. It was pleasing to meet all, it always was. But to SLEEP, to HEAR, to RESIDE, it was always clumsy. 

I waited for ten long minutes to use the tommilet. And yes! It takes a lot of effort to wait... for toilet ... in the morning. Then I brushed my teeth with cousin Dinky, Parrot Chikki and one other at the backyard.

I stepped into the 7x4 feet kitchen to find three women working in team; one rolling the flour dough balls, other was making parathas and the last one, was cooking sabzi. The moment, yes the moment I took a spoon of boiled egg in my mouth, my nani turned to me, “pehle nahana chaiye tujhe!”

I kept the plate back in the platform sighed and raised my voice against it. I said, “why?” and next, maa gave me an angry look that was enough for me to leave the kitchen that very moment.

I ate my breakfast hearing advices, hopes, stories and what not. But mainly advices... DON’T BE LATE, YOU GIRLS SHOULD COME HOME BEFORE DARK, EAT LITTLE MORE YOU LOOK THIN, WHY DON’T YOU CARE FOR YOU FACE YOU LOOK HORRIBLE, STOP WASTING SO MUCH TIME ON FITNESS YOU ARE NOT FAT BUT WORRY FOR YOUR FACE YOU HAVE TO GET MARRIED.

Maa’s continuous hold on you through her 'KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT' look let go the moment and you successfully clear that level according to her when you put a smile at your face and node a yes... all the time. And it was an escape.

And when you think that everything in your life from now on would be better, you just miss the fact that you have a boss for whom you work.

With a hell hectic day of two urgent assignments that day, I was blessed to have a senior female employee who was always ready to give me a detailed speech on the fact that I was a girl and I should be safe.

HER LECTURE:

You should take care of yourself, that worker was staring at you.... I think you work well only when boss pays attention on you.... you should not get emotionally attached to boss; he has a flirty nature... take care of what you wear... I am concerned for you, otherwise I wouldn’t have told you all this... you are like my daughter... I am just advising you... you are grown up, but it’s my duty...

I heard everyone. Instead of disagreeing, I ignored every single word that was told to me. I am done hearing you. Now HEAR ME, HEAR ME. YES I AM A GIRL AND I KNOW IT. I KNOW HOW TO BREATHE, HOW TO DRIVE, HOW TO EAT, HOW TO SIT, WHAT TO WEAR, WHERE TO GO AND WITH WHOM, HOW TO BEHAVE AT THE WORK PLACE, HOW TO WORK, HOW TO TAKE CARE OF MYSELF AND HOW TO BE SURE ABOUT MY SAFETY.. AND EVEN IF I DON’T KNOW THESE THINGS, IT IS MY PROBLEM NOT YOURS, ALL I KNOW IS I AM A GIRL AND NOT A MACHINE WHO WILL ACT YOUR WAY JUST BECAUSE YOU WANT ME THAT WAY.

But this time the reason that kept me shut was just being tired of hearing those things and because it was not bothering my work.

Eight at night, in a busy main road, I was driving my scooty when I heard some boys yelling and abusing badly, they were behind me on their bike... Like advised I didn’t turn and kept going. When I heard a female voice loud, I sank in fear, but I gained my courage to turn for another girl and I saw a scooty fallen on the road. The yelling boys were nowhere to be found. There were two girls on the road. One of them told me that those boys were following them from sometime, they were drunk and were asking them to stop and when they didn’t, one of the boys kicked the girl on the back seat and drove off. The girl was not injured physically but mentally, she was not saying anything and was only breathing heavily.

The girls had worn scarf covering their whole face, neck, chest and even stomach, just their eyes were visible. They were fully dressed with jeans and top on. I helped them clean the dust and asked them to complain, to which they said, “Nai baba! Bach gaye na, bas. Marna thode hai complain kar ke”

For the first time in the whole day I regretted something, regretted not turning at the correct time. I could have caught them or at least I could have seen the number plate on their bike. And it also made me think that- you say what you want to say to a person and go off but don’t realise what impact it makes on that person. The way those girls responded, I realised, they were not fainthearted but they too were a victim of hearing things that girls SHOULD NOT DO and were the obedient Indian females- who didn’t complain.

I felt a sharp pain in my back as I turned to the side in the bed. I woke up to a new morning with an old ache. People who work on computers whether be an engineer or accountant or data operator, every such person must be having the same pain. I faintly unlocked my phone and suddenly my whole system changed. I rushed to the bathroom.

While I was struggling with my earring, I heard the announcement of flag hoisting on television. I ran to the drawing room and stood in attention for the National Anthem. As I was hymning the tune I saw the president paying salute to the flag, army doing the same in their beautiful uniform and the flag flowing in the air with its chin up.

“I want to see this live someday”, I declared in my mind room. The army persons were paying tribute to the flag; the crowd was quite sober out there at the event. It was when my phone rang that my eyes shifted away from television. It was my colleague on the other side.

“Office on 11, be on time”, it was more like an order. “Hey! I have got a set of tasks lined up, I will be late. Please wait till I reach.”, and I hung up with an explanation of being late in the near future. What I watched next was the president standing with his head down in respect and before him was a lady standing in a white saree and a blue shawl.

Her features told me that she belonged to north east and the commentary next introduced her to be the wife of late constable who lost his life fighting the terrorists. His wife politely received the honour and left the stage. As she was walking down the steps, I saw a grief yet satisfaction on her face.

She was crying as they pulled the camera on her. It was live. She met the president, she got the honour and she was crying. He had lost his life serving for the nation and she had lost her love. Nor she had anyone to complain, neither did she gestured to complain. She was polite and took it as an honour. He had chosen the nation first and she obliged.

My phone beeped again to a friend’s message. Meet me in 10 minutes. My friend was in town and he was leaving to the city he worked in that very noon. I tugged my hair, put my heels on and took the keys of my bike. I was driving my way to the cafe when I felt a change in the air. The weather was soothing, different from the other days. “May be the patriots and leaders who lead us to this day are doing this change”, I felt.

I reached the cafe. I was waiting there for my friend when I saw there was a change in the scenario. There were people hanging around with the flag painted on their face, gipsy and bikes were campaigning around like leaders, people around me were busy taking selfies. It was all engaging yet disturbing for me.

As we settled on a table; I and my friend couldn’t hold to watch the television in the cafe. The republic day ceremony was still on air. We were enjoying the showcase. The tableau from different states showing their culture, art and nature mesmerised my eyes and held them for ten long minutes.

Likewise, even my friend was concerned about the value of the day. “You saw the people? I don’t know what they feel it to be. I saw a flag waving on a gypsy.”, he was surprised. “Haha! Doesn’t happen in your metro city”, I said mockingly. And our talk over the respect of this day went on.

I left for my office, biding him goodbye. I missed the flag hoisting but met and greeted everyone. We sat over a light conversation on Bollywood with our boss and then he proudly told us how every year they celebrate the Independence Day and the Republic Day, invite friends, family, neighbours, workers, clients and even the kids passing by the office. They try to create a healthy celebration and a remembrance of the day.

Next, I drove back home. I spent the afternoon watching a movie on television that was based on a cricketer’s life and how he won the world cup for the country. It was a good film though.

I went for a walk in the evening with my friend. I told him about my whole day and how I felt about things; about the weather, the people, the television and everything else. He heard me with a smile and reciprocated politely as I asked him for his opinion. He said, “I think all the people who live nearby should gather in a ground and remember the freedom fighters and defence officers who have sacrificed their lives for the nation; that will be the best way to celebrate this day.”

And he was right, I realized. That one response summed up my whole day. Everything that I had felt that day, everything that had made me think a lot, that every thought got an answer when he said. “. We should at least resolve to follow a thought or a way given by some patriot.” such wise words felt my eyes as they dropped a tear of satisfaction.

The event of celebration that was been held in the capital every year, that was shown live to us, that we ignore every year, was actually a way to meet our real superheroes. The event salutes the efforts of our soldiers, give them a chance to rejoice and also show them the country they guard.

The flag hoisting give us a moment where all of us unite to pay respect to the nation who fought for our freedom, the flag that represented that freedom and the people who survived and even sacrificed for that freedom and the people who were trying at present to keep that freedom intact.

The small celebration like the one that was held in my office was just a way to keep the day alive, save the day to pass like just another holiday. And try to be a voice who said “We salute you” to the ones who worked even that very day for our safety. I got the purpose then.

The movie that had been telecasted was actually a salute to a sportsperson who had contributed shaping our country by his game and making the country proud in the international level. The channel contributed to the day by showing us the man who inspired us to be a better person and pursue our dreams.

The youth that was flaunting the freedom and was waving flags on their gypsy and bikes should have heard my friend. They could have got what this day was about and how they could have respect the day doing something better rather than wasting it that way.

 “By crushing individuals, they cannot kill ideas.” by Bhagat Singh, I read. I pledged to follow these lines and to never stop following my dreams and ideals even if it costs me to stand alone. I tried to make these words alive.

“Remember the freedom fighters and defence officers who have sacrificed their lives for the nation; that will be the best way to celebrate this day.”

Like every other year, I was short of ideas. I always wanted to make the most productive resolutions for the New Year. I am great at business ideas, I am good at inventing new recipes in the kitchen, but I don’t know what happens when it comes to resolutions.

I asked my friends about theirs. One of them said he would stop eating tobacco, one had promised to launch his start-up this year and the others do not believe in resolutions at all. I don’t eat tobacco or cigarette, I am the CEO of my company and I am a hardcore believer of resolutions. No hope here. I felt like drowning. A few days back, my wife said that we should make most of the first day of the year because the whole year follows it. I promised her that we would spend it the most memorable way, the most ‘perfect’ way.

I had to do something about the resolution thing!

‘Help me out. I am looking for resolution ideas!’ I updated my social media status.

My aunt asked me to shift to my hometown, my friends had other rubbish ideas, but I wished to murder the ones who told me to become ‘nicer’ or ‘kinder’ or to ‘love more’. Come on! I am nice enough and I am kind enough to the world. Is that even a valid resolution?

I realized there was no luck in asking anyone anything. Maybe I had to spend this year too without an aim. Little did I know that this first day of the year had different plans for me.

 I woke up to my ringing phone. It was 8 in the morning.

“Good morning, beta.” It was my mother.

“Mummy! Why did you wake me up early in the morning? Don’t you know it’s my holiday today? I would have slept till late. You just ruined my day!!” I was yelling, almost.

“Are beta, I am so sorry. I just wanted to wish you a happy new year.”

“Whatever. I will call you after breakfast.” I hung up not caring about her reply.

It soiled my mood. Neera was probably in the kitchen. She came running to the bedroom upon hearing me shout.

“What happened, Durjan? Who was it?” she asked.

“Mummy.” I was upset.

“It’s okay. Sleep some more.”

“No, I am done.” I stood up and went into the bathroom.

A little later, Neera and I were on the breakfast table.

“It was a moment of the past. I think you should bring her back home.” she said in a serious tone.

“What do you mean? I am doing it wrong? She is safe in an old age home, not in a jail!” I was yelling again.

“She does not deserve a jail. You know what happened that night.”

“Yes, I know. She was to take care of Appu. She had one job!!” the innocent face of Appu, my little daughter, came in front of my eyes. She got lost. Nobody knows where.

“But it was not mummy’s fault. She is an old lady, she had a habit of sleeping at 9. We were late. It was 12 when we returned.” Neera justified. We had never discussed this matter before.

 “So, what? Bringing her back home will bring our Appu back?”

“Is keeping her away making it any better?” she was firm, a picture of her that I don’t usually see.

“Yes it is. I cannot stand her. Not after all this.”

“Wasn’t she there from the day when you first stood on your feet till the day you actually stood on your feet? I know it was not easy for us. It was not easy for her too. Now, she is alone there.”

“There are other old people around. And, why are you supporting her? Have she started calling you, moulding you?” I was not sounding sensible and I knew.

“Not moulded, but she had shaped me. She taught me your favourite dishes. She taught me to take care of a baby. She wanted to make Appu stronger than you.”

“Rubbish. I don’t want to talk about it. Finish off your works soon, we will leave for lunch at 1.” I walked away. I knew what I was doing. I kept myself busy in office homework.

It was time. We drove to the Rajasthani restaurant for lunch. It is my favourite spot to go on holidays. I was thinking about the lovely food we were going to have. My mood had started getting better. I tried to forget the morning brawl and kept up the smile.

We entered the restaurant. Most of the tables were occupied because it was the new year day. I ran my eyes through the hall to find a good seat when I saw an old woman sitting alone on the corner most table. She looked pretty much like my mother, but a lot older. That’s when I remembered that I told mummy that I would call her after breakfast. I quickly killed the thought as I found an empty table near the centre.

But... “This way, Sir.” The manager guided us to that very corner table.

When we got closer, I realised that the old lady was no one else but mummy. She had aged so much in a short time- I thought in my head. Her face was full of wrinkles, a lot more than I last met her. The smile added to the curves of her skin. Yes, she was smiling but I was not. I glared at Neera.

“You did this?” I asked standing near the table. She was silent.

“Sit beta, you both look really good.” Mummy said. I gave way for Neera to sit in front of mummy, then I sat beside Neera. I was not looking at mummy. But my eyes were craving to look at her, her grown wrinkles and her white hair.

 “How are you, mummyji?” Neera asked.

“I am good, beta. We don’t have things to do there. So, I made this halwa for you both today.” She passed a box towards me. I took it and kept it on the table.

“I am yet to make a halwa as good as yours, mummyji.” Neera was trying to impress her or something. It was out of my understanding.

“But, your kheer is my favourite. Uh... was my favourite. S-sorry.” Mummy lowered her head when I glanced at her. “Durju, I feel so happy to see you both after so long. Have you started colouring your hair?”

“Yes. Now, please order the food Neera, I am hungry.” It was getting more awkward for me.

 We finished eating. I was silent the whole time. Only Neera and mummy exchanged a few thoughts. Instances of the past came running in front of me. Things that she said often, how she saved me from the tuitions, how I slept in her arms every night – came in my mind in flashes. I pacified with time. I would not say that I became comfortable, but her presence was okay for me now.

The waiter kept the bill on the table and left.

“Durju, isn’t this the shirt that your ex-boss gifted you? But you know what will look even better with this grey shirt? This blue cardigan that I knit for you.” She had bought another gift for me. Why?

I was staring at her.

“I worked extra long yesterday to complete it. I had to. I started learning to knit in March. It was my resolution for this year. And you know that breaking resolutions is not my thing.”

I was still staring at her. How could she? After all the negativity, after all the anger that I showed her, how could she work the year long for me? Every moment of Appu’s absence made me hate her more and more. My belief in destiny made me soothe my sorrow soon but the ego made me keep the grudge on my mother. I knew all this time, that it was not solely her fault. But I hated her.  

But she, she made me her resolution. Not thinking about how wrong it was on my part to give up on her and leave her on her own. Papa left her suddenly too, without an explanation. She did not complain. I left her too, she did not complain. I suddenly felt very guilty. My eyes were wet. I could see her eyes twinkling a little more too. I was her resolution. And maybe it was my time to return the gesture.

“You are coming home with us today.” I said. Neera grabbed my hand and we smiled.

This year, I unknowingly created two resolutions for myself. One- I would never let my past control my present. Two- My mother is my root, my nourishment. I will never leave her side, I will be her nourishment from now on.

Maybe it was destiny, maybe it was karma. But, the first day of this year went just how my wife and I wanted it to be- PERFECT.   

Happy new yeaarrr!!! LET’S NACHO. This is the best moment. The whole year I have waited for this one time, this one hour. The sound of woofers, flicker of lights, roaring people, overloaded fun, and the whole atmosphere is hyped. But I love to live this hyped life. The moment when all family, friends, strangers; in fact the whole world rejoice together to bid goodbye to the year and welcome a new one.

Standing beside my friend & DJ Alex I am feeling so proud to experience the success of my first ever independent event and trust me, it’s insane. The crowd is making me feel high and trust me again; I haven’t gulped a single drop of alcohol yet. This moment is no less than intoxication and I am totally drowned into it.

I am closing my eyes now, to feel the passing air, its chilled! Yeah! I am feeling a nudge in my shoulder, someone is calling me... but I don’t want to break this moment... GO AWAY!!! IT’S MY TIME. “YES, IT IS TIME WAKE UP NOW.” The voice yelled.

10 a.m. Shit man! I am late. I had to call the caterers. The decorators, they must have reached the lounge and what about Ala? Shit! Shit! Shit!

“You must be dreaming about the party, I am trying to wake you up from the last two hours....”

“C’mon Maa, you should have thrown me out of bed, I am too late! I had to see the decoration and... And there is a lot... Wait! I had to pick up Maira and her troupe from the airport on 11 and... It is 10:15.

“Maira?”

“Our DJ for tonight, Maa. Please take out my black pants and... yeah my sweatshirt is here. I will leave in 5 minutes, Maa please be fast.”

“Beta, eat before you leave, you will be busy the whole day.”

“I have no time Maa, please get my things ready!”

I yelled as I shut the bathroom door.

The moment I stepped out of the airport was a pure surprise. There was a guy holding my name board which read

                                                 Welcome to our land Maira.

                                          Your ride is waiting for you this side.

And there it was. A pretty girl smiled at me and I recognised her- Needa, our event manger. My first meet with her was really good. Being so young, yet so confident for her work is commendable. It was my first time in this city. From last 3 years, my mornings, my nights, my festivals, all have been in different cities, with new faces and a lot of music.

I remember being an in house DJ for a small club in our city. From that small job to this popularity I have come a long way. All I do now is... I travel; play, sleep, play and I travel.

I love my life because I love my work. This is what I always wanted to be. There were so many objections as I belong to a family of engineers. They allowed playing as a DJ sometimes for interest but choosing it as a career was never their take. I remember a New Year when I first got to play for a party of my friend other than a club. The moment clock struck 12, with the crowd going crazy, somewhere in my mind I had made it clear- this is what I have to do all my life... the way I heard people yelling my name I knew this was all I wanted to hear... DJ Maira!

Yes, it feels bad that I don’t get to celebrate these days with my family. I feel alone many a times when we video call and I see my family together. But I am satisfied with the fact that when I am home I am all theirs, and my Mom proudly tell my relatives when she watches me on TV.

My slow morning picked up gear as I dropped Maira at the hotel. In the next 3 hours I met the caterers, we started with the decorations, checked the arrangements again and again and I got nervous as many times I breathed. Everything was smooth till now, yet I was panicking a lot. After all it was my first ever event.

I totally jumped into event management after 12^th; I worked for four years during and after my course. Those four years brought a lot of things to me; concerts, parties, corporate events and what not. But what always kept me going was to start it of my own. I had worked day in day out for this one evening, saved a lot of money and stayed away from my family at times. But it was all fruitful when I saw my family making merry over my start and proudly inviting their friends for my first event.

There was a lot of pressure, there were so many who suggested me not to start this soon, that too in my own city as it’s not a metro. But then there was something called believe in self that was all.

It was five in the evening. The event had to start at 8 o’clock. I was confident. Everything was set, there were only a few hours left for my dream event. I suddenly felt sad. The reason was unknown but I felt sad and negative. What if things would fall out of place? That one question led to another bundle of questions... What If I would not be able to sell all the passes,  what if people would not like the food, what if the atmosphere would not be decent, what if this ... what if that.... what if I just... suck been an independent planner?

There I was standing at the middle of the party lounge, 3 hours away from my event and I found myself stuck in these thoughts. I took a deep breath, held myself. And the next moment! I just turned around and what I saw was true magic.

What else could you do when your friend was a total loss? I couldn’t sleep the whole night in the fear and excitement of Need’ event. I woke up early only to hear no answer to my calls. As always she was late and she broke her promise to take me with her to pick Maira. Now, I had to wait till the evening to meet her.  Meanwhile, I did all the boring yet relaxing things like watching TV at home, checking social media accounts time and again, going to spa and parlour, trying my dress and sleeping.

I had come to my hometown on vacations and this time I had cancelled all other plans for Needa’s event. We are childhood friends. Ever since I know how to spell ‘friend’, I have her. She is vibrant, crazy and yes, always late; yet my best friend.

I was never enthusiastic about extra-curricular like her but she never topped exam like me either.

I was always passionate about computers, software and animations. That took me to moving out of the city to the near big city for engineering and then for job. I love my work as I design games for all generations. Staying away from family was never my choice but then I had to choose between the two: family and career. Yes, choosing this career gave me lesser gatherings with family but I am happy whenever I meet them and I am satisfied when I see them happy about me. Family is always primary with all the other choices that I want to make for me.

I was sitting with my Mom in the parlour when I got Needa’s SMS:

Yet again, it brought my favourite moment. I was there at the stage facing the lovely faces that were cheering my name and were dancing happily on the mixes I played. And the time countdown for 12 began even I lost my wits. This countdown always filled me with possibilities to explore more; more of life, more of music and more of nature through it. I lowered the sound as we began

                         10      9       8       7       6         5         4         3         2         1

HAPPPYYY NEWWW YEARRR!!! And a new year started with happiness.

Oh the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we've no place to go
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

It was very late at night when I finished my freelance assignment. I finally shut my desktop down and switched off the charger. When I attempted to stand, the lack of sensation in my legs made me remember that I was not an average person anymore. The sudden jerk channelled a sharp pain through my spine. I sat down in disappointment. Paraplegia destroyed my simple but happy life. And now, I was nothing more than a piece of load for my wife and daughter. I was not used to this immobility yet. It was only 28 days after I got discharged from the hospital. Day by day, only the physical pain was fading, not the mental.

“It’s Christmas, papa!” said my little one the next morning. After the accident, there was not a single day when she came running and hugged me from behind. Not a single day when I snatched the TV remote from her and we ran around in the house. Not a single day that we spend the night eating and sleeping in the living room itself. She could not. I could not.

“Papa!!” her yell brought me back into reality.

“Yes, beta. Merry Christmas to my Taani.” I said when she came and kissed me on my forehead. I felt like a kid, and she my guardian.

“Merry Christmas! Get up now, I have made your arrangements in the bathroom.” she instructed. She could have asked me for presents but she did not. She could have done her make-up while singing in front of the mirror but she did not. She could have spent her Christmas morning with her friends but she did not. I knew I was the reason.

It doesn't show signs of stopping
And I've bought some corn for popping
The lights are turned way down low
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

Daily activities which took no time were now hefty jobs for me. Sometimes, the urge to stand and walk and run made me cringe to frustration. Everybody said that I was not good with patience. I should have learnt to keep some when I was not abnormal. Now, it felt impossible. I tried my best to look composed every time.

As I came out of the bathroom on the wheelchair, my wife Ranjee was standing with a wrapped box and a face full of grin.

“Merry Christmas, Jay.” she said, handing me the box. She had bought me a present. But, why? Wasn’t I who was supposed to buy my family presents?

“You bought me a gift! This was not needed, biwi.” I said to her.

“A gift is not a need, a gift is a gift!” she proudly declared with a wide smile.

It was a red t-shirt. “Red is the colour of Christmas and red is the colour of love.” she was almost jumping. “I love you!” she said quickly and ran away.

How sweet it was of her. And I couldn’t even thank her. She has always been loving and innocent. Can she handle every one of us in the long run? What should I do to help her when I am the one in need?

I needed assistance in everything that I did and Ranjee & Taani were totally affected by it. I had to quit my day job and find a work-from-home job. This directly put pressure on Ranjee financially. Taani spent her time at home helping me in petite works. The guilt was eating me bit by bit.

When we finally kiss good night
How I'll hate going out in the storm!
But if you'll really hold me tight
All the way home I'll be warm

Ranjee and Taani were busy in the kitchen. I was staring at the TV screen mindlessly. The sudden sound of falling utensils made me realise that I was watching cartoon. I tried to grab the remote but it was kept out of the reach of my hand. I tried to lean, I tried to stand, but could not. I wheeled my chair inside to work a little and to keep myself busy. The charger got stuck in the chair wheel and came out of the plug. I knew I could not plug it in myself.  

I was getting irritated with my state. I wanted to end it. I made up my mind instantly. I knew that the best way to end everything was to end me. I just needed an opportunity and a chest full of guts.

‘Never miss an opportunity’ my father used to say. I wheeled my chair slowly towards the cupboard. I opened it all by myself and started looking for the packet of blades that I bought last month. My hands were not shivering, I was not nervous. I knew that it was for the best. I searched, I frantically searched.

“Jay!” Ranjee’s abrupt call frightened me.

 “Yes!”

“By the time I set up our dinner, could you help Taani in maths?” Ranjee asked.

I regained the lost consciousness in a go. “Yes, why not?” I was good at it. We sat and worked. And finished her homework soon in the afternoon itself.

“Thanks, papa. What would I do without you?” said Taani and went into her room.

This unattended question made me think way beyond what I was considering. What would they do without me? My mind flashed scenes with worn out faces of both Ranjee and Taani crying in front of my picture frame. I pushed those flashes aside. Something changed in me. Maybe, the storm was subsiding. Maybe, I crossed the storm successfully. Maybe, I won.

The fire is slowly dying
And, my dear, we’re still goodbying
But as long as you love me so
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

It was a holiday and we spent the day lazing around, watching TV and eating junk together. We watched ‘The Valentine’s Day’ movie on the Christmas Day. I wore the gifted red t-shirt in the evening. We were together. We smiled, we laughed. It was just like any holiday. My inability did not matter anymore. A gush of positivity ran through me right when the church bell rang. I smiled.

“Take me to the carols tonight.” I told Ranjee.

“Sure, we all are going.” she was smiling with me.

“Yaayyy, finally papa has got a wish!” Taani was highly cheerful that night.

We reached the church gate. I wheeled myself inside and we all sat to pray. The moments of silence and the festive day taught me some great life lessons. Difficult times are to be fought with full spirit and faith. Family is not about perfections; but about accepting the imperfections and still be happy. Family is the ultimate strength, the anchor to life as long as we are here. And not to forget, Christmas can set anything and everything right.

'Let It Snow' is a song written by lyricist Sammy Cahn which is widely played during Christmas as a carol.