Indian Parents have killed more dreams than anyone

Before I start I just want to mention I love my parents a lot. And I respect parents in general I know how much they sacrifice for us. This is one side of the story, no hard feelings for parents. Having said that lets get started.

There is so much to say that I don’t know where to start.

Okay, So we all have certain beliefs right?

Suppose I like strawberry ice cream and you don’t but I force you to eat it anyways. You can eat it, it won’t kill you but would you enjoy it? Would you be happy? No right.

It’s the same. Our parents try to force their beliefs, their likes and dislikes on us.

Lets me give a small example.
I had a friend who was very good in cricket. He loved playing cricket. Most of his time was spend playing it but his father was a lawyer and he wanted him to be a lawyer too.
Indian kids are too obedient I tell you. He did what his father wanted. He gave up his dreams to fulfil his fathers. He has a good job but he isn’t satisfied. He is doing it just for the sake of money.

There is one more problem with Indian parents. They love there kids too much. Yes you read it right. You must be thinking how can that be a problem. Trust me it is.

When a kid chooses a life partner for themselves our parents automatically assume that person we chose is a not right for us. Something or other is not right for their Child. It might be the parents, family background, family status, religion, caste etc etc. And funnily we don’t have any control over these matters. Things that we do have control over like the kind of person we are, or our achievements, our success these are just over looked.

Indian kids as I told you are much too obedient. It’s like in our gene. We give up on love just to get our parents approval. To make them happy. In Hindi if I should say ‘apne maa baap ko khus karne k liye apni gand maar lete ha’ . I am not going to translate that.

We marry the person chosen by our parents. Its a marriage without love. Don’t worry we do have sex. Sex without love. Parents are very happy with that. To see their kids be married to a person they don’t love.

They even like the fake smiles on our faces. Trust me they know its fake. They have brought us up they can tell.
I should not rant anymore. This of course does not apply for all parents and not for all kids.

If any parent are reading this I would just like to ask you ‘do you want to see the shell of a person without an opinion or belief. Agreeing to everything you say like your puppet. Is that why you raised up your kids so that they can bend to your will someday?

Just let them be. Let them see the world. Let them fall, let them make mistakes. Let them take wrong decisions. Its time for you to let go.

Agony

Tears do not come but I cry inside
The pain, the agony that I hope I could describe
But words do not come as I cry inside

No ones beside me, to support on my darkest time
I do not blame them because if I were them I would leave me too
I suffer in my misery, there’s no tears to shed as I cry inside

All wrong decisions I’ve taken, I regret them now.
I hope I could blame others and make this pain lessen
But still it burns, I want to get rid of it
I am choking I am about to die nothing shows on my face as I cry inside

Choices : Poetic narration

So this is it. It is decided. All the years of happiness, dreams and hopes everything will be forgotten. We will move on.

So absurd life makes us so heartless. It is funny that the only person we thought we couldn’t live without, we leave them and move on. Move on even if it kills us. Move on even if it squeezes out every inch of emotion that we ever held for the other person. But for what? To have a better life? But I was already happy with him. Wasn’t I?

His face and smile it never failed to light up my world. The lame jokes on which I couldn’t stop laughing till my stomach hurt. And the times we talked for hours about stupid stuff. What now? We just decide that its better to move on?

Why didn’t he complain? He said he wants to see me happy but doesn’t he know that he Is the one who makes me happy? Why didn’t he try to stop me? I would have stopped if he asked even once.

Life is so cruel. Be practical, be practical. what’s there to be practical? It wasn’t like I was going to starve to death if I didn’t take up the job in a different city. But then what did I do? I took up the job, didn’t I?

I killed my happiness for promises of better future. Better future, huh? Future is the most uncertain thing. How do you know you would be happy?

Time will pass and one day I would sit by the window and think how it would have been if he was still in my life. Maybe I wouldn’t be happy, maybe I would be. But Isn’t that what life is; uncertain.

Why couldn’t it just be simple? Why couldn’t we just listen to our hearts?

He looks at me with tear filled eyes his face is red but he smiles. He is trying to be strong but I see though him. You know a person’s mind when you who have spent so much time with him.

‘do what is best for you’
But I don’t know what is best for me? Stop me. Please.

But he didn’t.

So I said goodbye. Goodbye to the future we could have. Goodbye to our love. Goodbye to all those amazing moments and finally I said goodbye to him.

Sweet confessions : 2

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask. I am sitting on the bed reading a smut.

“Like what?” he asks smirking. He is sitting on the other side with his laptop open.

“I don’t know” I say feeling my heart speed up. I look away overwhelmed by his gaze.

I came to Bangalore to visit my boyfriend for a couple of days.

“No, tell me,” he said whispering near my ear.

An all knowing smile is playing on his lips. He is trying to act like my favourite character from a novel.

I look at him trying to hold my smile.

“You looking at me like you want to burn me in your fire,” I use the exact words from my book.

“Maybe I do. Its only fair that I burn you, like you burn me,”

“Being all poetic are we?” I said raising my eyebrow at him.

“Isn’t that what my baby likes.” He says whispering on my lips.

I burst out laughing but my heart still beats frantically.

“I know what you want?” I say teasingly as I shove him away.

“Only if you knew,” he says laying back on bed looking at me with heavy leaded eyes.

We look at each other full of promises and Goosebumps erupt on my skin.

He eyes so deep, it shows every emotion. Its almost hard to ignore.

“You scaring me. I have never seen you so serious.” I said with a nervous smile.

“We are not kids anymore you know,” he says almost irritated and then looks away in anger.

I don’t understand it.

“Did I miss something?” I ask frowning.

He looks at me with so much intensity that it burns me and makes my inside melt. I didn’t know it could be possible but my heart beats even faster.

He leans forward and gives a soft pec on the corner of my mouth.

This is so innocent but the sexual tension between us makes it thousand times more intimate.

This build up is too much for me. Not physically but mentally. Its so uncomfortable that I do what I should do to make it normal.

I climb on him and kiss him hard but he grasp my hips and stops me.

Now I am totally confused. I look at him frowning, a bit hurt.

“When will you understand baby,” he says almost disappointed.

I don’t know what to make of it.

“You don’t want this?” I ask.

“God,” he sighs in frustration. In blink of an eye he is above me.

He kisses my temple and whispers “I want this,” than he kisses my cheeks and again whispers “and this. Next he kisses my lips, an hungry nothing like the way I kissed him, its wild ad unrestrained. “I desperately want this,” he says breathing hard.
Then he kisses my neck and whispers again “this,” one by one he kisses every possible part of me.

I think a lifetime has passes before he is done and I forgot how all this started.

I look at him a quivering mass ready to burst any moment. A single touch in the right place could do the trick but he doesn’t do anything to help. He looks deeply in my eyes.

“But most of all I want you. The whole of you. Your body, your soul, your time and every single part of you. I want you to marry me.”

My eyes go big. I try to replay the last bit again and again to make sure what I heard was correct.

“You are awfully quite. Should I be scared?” He jokes but I know he holding his breath.

“Lets get married,” I say almost immediately and hug him tight.

He hugs me back and that night turns to be the most memorable night for me.

His letter : a poem

You hurt me dove, but I let it go.

You don’t deserve me dove but I still stuck with you.

Do you know, you are the light of life.

You are all I need even though you stabbed my heart with a knife.

Maybe I should leave.
Let you cry and heave.

But I can’t, you are all I want.

I can’t sleep, my love is so deep.

Not like you, mine is true.

It kills me to, but I love you.

How did I know I want to be a writer

To be honest for very long time I didn’t realise I could be a writer. My parents are from a small village, uneducated but very intelligent people I must tell you. They know the importance of education. Maybe that was the reason why my father put me to one of the best schools. It did cost him a fortune but he never complained.

As kid I hated going to school. I was bullied in school. I did not have the kind of luxury at home like they did and as a kid I always blamed my parents for it. I was not the kid to whine about stuff but there was a internal hatred that I had develop for everyone. For my parents, friends and teachers. Maybe that is why whenever I write anything from my childhood the hatred could be felt from my writing.

When I was merely 4 or 5 I remember I always floated in my dream world. I was a weird kid for sure, I was a loner. If the present me saw the childhood me, I would considered myself a freak.

I could manage only one friend at a time not more than that. Priyanka was my best friend in school the only person I tolerated and who tolerated me.

She liked me a lot though. Not because I was a fun loving person but because I was very generous. I got the insane feeling of happiness after doing something for others. There has been times when I gave my whole tiffin to my friend and remained hungry myself. Its funny she never complained. Kids are like that don’t Judge her.

I don’t know if it was only me but I use to make lot of stories as a kid.
I had made up stories for everything.

When my mom asked me clean my room I would think myself as a princess who was trapped inside a castle by a witch and I had to do her work.

If I helped my mom cook I would make stories like we are trapped in a forest and making food from scratch.

My grandfather was my closest person because he always had great stories. I remember how I would never go to sleep when he told me stories. There was an amazing television inside my head every word he said was a moving picture inside my head. He would never tire of telling stories and I would never tire of listening.

One of the cousin who came to live with us for few months for work became my next favourite person because he had great stories to tell as well.

At that time also I wasn’t introduced to any book apart from my school textbook.

When I was in 9th standard I became obsessed with studies. In those two years something changed inside me I would do mathematics in my dreams.

It was crazy I would study all the freaking time. If I think about it now I think the reason was because I didn’t want to be lonely and somehow studying made it okay.

Those two years when my friends were making boyfriends and taking there time to get ready in the morning, I didn’t understand it. I might not realize it then but I wanted attention too I guess, which I did not get. I didn’t know how. I was the quite kid. No one not even the girls talk to me that much. My only friend Priyanka transferred to a different city and I was very lonely all those two years.

Then came 11th standard. I made friends with the class topper and she was also the most beautiful girl in the class too but she was an arrogant kid.

She made friends with me because I did not put any threats to her popularity. She was funnily the one who introduced me to my first book. It was Doctors by Eric Sagel and after that world just shifted on its axis.

I had found a new obsession. Dan drown, Emily Bronte, Stephan King, J K Rowling, Nicolas Sparks, Chetan Bhagat, Ravinder Sigh and many many many more. My day and nights were filled with books.

I failed my 11th standard. I know what you are thinking. Yes I scored 88 percent in 10th and failed in 11th. Well at that time also I didn’t thought of becoming a writer.

What I did understand that I needed to focus on my academics. My parents were disappointed in me.

So I studied hard for next two years. There were moments when I almost gave up but than I thought of my father who did so much to educate me. It was this time that I started changing a lot. I understood a lot about my parents, I had new found respect for them.

I started giving tusion to kids and baby sat few toddlers I was making a decent money.

I took admission in college by my own money. After coming to college I realised it harder than it looks. I studied a lot in college but still somehow managed to just pass.

All my friends were fussing about the kind of job they would take, me on the other hand took the first opportunity I got. After all baggers are not choosers. My marks weren’t such that I should be choosing. I got the job in a medical insurance company at the age of 21.

It was few months after joining than I developed the interest in writing. Even if it was just for fun and nothing serious I get immense satisfaction with it.

Its been two years now and I have learned writing is what I was always meant to do.

I may not be that good now but someday I will be.

The woman with a baby

When my mom was pregnant with me, she and my dad were living in Rajasthan(desert in India). My dad had a transferrable job and my mom usually accompanied him.

My dad was posted to a village area and they rented a place in the village.

The landlady was an angry but a good woman.

My dad usually had nightshifts and mom stayed home.
The landlady lived next door so mom felt safe.

However something happened one night that changed everything.

My mom was sleeping soundly when someone knocked on the window. The wondow was somewhat 8 feet above the ground. My mom usually was a deep sleeper but that particular night she woke up to this light tapping.

When she opened her eyes she saw a woman standing outside the window. She looked like a begger to my mom that roamed the village. It was a particularly cold night and my mom thought the woman was probably asking for blankets.

My mom being the generous woman she sat up on her bed to confront the woman on the window only to be dead struck on her tracks.

The woman had a naked baby on her lap. The baby seemed lifeless, hands and feet dangling out but thats not what scared my mom. My mom could see the woman waist to head and the window was atleast 8 feel above ground.

My mom had heard stories from the landlady to never open the door when someone knocks at night and she knew exsactly why the landlady said so. She wasn’t talking about the thiefs.

My mom slipped inside her blanket and covered her face. The tapping on the window was insistend and continued for next two hours.

Finally when it stoped my mom was so exhausted that she slept right away.

When she woke up the nexy day she told everything to the landlady. The landlady told her that she did the right thing by staying in her bed. The woman that was tapping on the window was a woman that was seen by many villagers and she was a beggers whose baby died out of cold in the winter night few years ago. She kept on begging the villagers for a proper funeral for the baby but no one helped and she kept on roaming the village with the dead baby for days before she died herself.

Sweet confessions: 1

Do you remember the first time, the exact moment when love struck you?
Well, I do. I won’t tell you the age but I was young.

I remember I use to spend a lot of time with him. It was like an obsessed. I remember how we use to sneak out of home during afternoon when the sun was its hottest. The shadowy spot on the corner of our roof by the water tank.

I remember how closely we sat in that small spot and talked for hours about everything and nothing. You use to sweat a lot but it never bothered me in fact I liked how your face glistened in the sun. I can’t stand the heat now but back than I enjoyed it. So much changes. Isn’t it?

I remember you always smelled of clean soap. I loved the smell. I was doing shopping few days ago and found the exact smelling soap. I think it was the same soap you used. I brought it, but I don’t use it. I smell it sometimes it makes me feel all sort of things. Mad, I know.

I was goner for stories and you always made the most fantastic of stories. I never told you but you could be an amazing writer. You told me your grandmother knew magic and I believed it. I believed in every shit you said. I believed you when you said you would marry me.

Yes I remember that day very clearly when we sat on our usual spot and talked about Cinderella. You said I was your Cinderella and I believed you.

You were always wise for your age, you know. You always said when we grow up we will change and we won’t love each other as much. Maybe you were talking about yourself because I still love you. I still dream about you.

It has been years since I have seen you but still last year when your marriage invitation came I felt as if you betrayed me. I had cried a lot that night. Maybe it was always me. The silly me. Maybe I was only one in love but that’s fine. Incomplete love stories are the most memorable one.

**I am hopeless romantic but I don’t know what’s the deal with valentine. 🤦🤦**

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One day: a poem

One day
One day his memories will be washed away by the waves of time
His memories that lay on the shore of my life
Basking in the rays of my love once
Is now drying and crumbling with time
These memories that was once shared by the shore, the ocean and the sky
Is now forgotten, its rejected
Like a dead rotting fish it lies on the shore of my mind
The waves take it away and bring it back
It has no where to go, it floats in the vast ocean
Like garbage, unwanted and hated
The ocean does not want it nor does the shore
The rays that was once warm are now scorching hot
The sky doesn’t want it too
One day
The memories will fade away,
One day the ocean, the shore and the sky will be able to obliterate it

I am you and you are me; a poem

In my arms I have seen you melt little by little,
I have seen you high, I have seen you low
I have felt you wither in pain and I have felt you wither in pleasure
Your moans, your cries I have heard it all
I have felt your warm breath, I felt your cold feet
I felt your softless and smelled your essence
You surround me, I am full of you
I am you and you are me