The Day of the Women

Every once in a while when something sinister happens, we start talking about, their security, their safety, their lives and the several clichés that we so randomly use. The only exception to it ought to be this and a handful of other anniversaries. And now I am not going to be doing the same here just because it’s a cliché.

There were many women in my life and quiet a few are worth mention. And there are of course a few that I will not talk about ever, not even a passing reference or a unwelcomed memory. But in the making of the man I am today there are quiet a few skillful hands that that belonged to the some very lovely ladies all along. I must be very thankful, rather indebted to these very special souls.

I don’t know what being an women would come to mean and how it feels to be being the daughter of Eve. I can only imagine and my imagination ought to be highly restrictive. After all the key is to a women’s thought is yet to be identified. But it must feel wonderful to be the one to possess the gift of life a rare and divine responsibility that the heavens entrusted to them. The continuation of humanity ought to be a very demanding responsibility.

When we talk about women, its just natural to talk of fertility, the wonderful gift of giving birth and ‘The Mother’.  For centauries we have worshipped this divine gift and have always embraced it close at heart. So I am thankful to my very loving Mother whose sole love and care and the occasional scolding and scorning made me into the made of value I believe I am today. Then there is her mother, my grand mother who with her love and unbelievably tasty magic made sure that I was always full and stuffed to the brim. I must thank these two wonderful ‘one hell of a woman’s but I wont, I just love them and I will leave it at that.

Women have a heart so big, yet so small. It’s heard to get out once you have found your way in and its hard to find your way back into it once you have been thrown out. There are many women I love and I loved in the many (twenty one) years I lived. There are the ones that require a special mention and the ones that may have a passing reference, but irrespective of that they all have made significant contributions to the big and small things I have done and became. I have two aunts who were my world when I grew up and they are quite amiable too. And one of them I solely remember from her photograph on my grandfather’s desk and the weekly call she made to my grandparents house during my stay there. The two women own much of my construction and rightfully so.

Falling in and out of love is not a prerogative of men, women do it to often with such deceptive elegance and for a chauvinistic argument they do blame it on men always. But we both know the truth.  Then again its not the breaking and breaking of love that matters but living it. And from all the romantic relationships I have had and all the wonderful souls I have been with and the angel whom I have decided to share my life with (officially and officially she doesn’t know yet) I have had a life’s worth of wonderful experiences.

I have been blabbering for too long now and I don’t intend to take it any further than this. So for all the wonderful ladies I missed but not forgotten. All the teachers, friends and acquaintances and all the wonderful time they cared to spend with me I have just this to say.

Sorry! I missed to mention you

And

Thank you! For all the things and times you cared to share.

    

Remembering my Great Grand Mother

There was a picture hung by the wall of by old countryside home, it was a gray scale picture of three young girls and a grandmother. At first I wondered who they would be and I kept until one day when I asked my grandfather who those girls were? He held me up in his arms and pointing to the picture with other hand. He told me that, it was my mother and her sisters. I was so shocked for till then I definitely believed that they were born that way and they will remain so for all eternity. If I recall my grandpa’s version of the story I cried, but mind you, I never accepted his claims what so ever.

Years later I came in terms with my mother and her sister who are so big now being so little then, The thing that still caught my attention every time I  looked at that picture is old lady in the picture with silver hair and a grandeur that was there in her face. Her stance had a stature that I seldom saw in people then and before. By the time I procured all the courage to ask who she was it was then again years later. This time I asked my grandpa who would be by then asked all kind of stupid questions by me, who she was. And He said she was a grandmother and I was confused. I already had one grandmother and extended him the same enquiry with an ‘innocent smile’ (in his words). He smiled and said of course you have but she was my mother grandmother so my great grandmother she was!

From then own I heard a million wonderful stories of her and her life, she was never a stereotype and she was always a person I grew up to respect. I never knew her and she was long gone the time I was born. But still I loved her and I loved the picture of hers. There was definitely something special about her and it was evident in the picture. My mother told me many wonderful memories of her’s. She told me of her times with her grandma and how wonderful a person she was. All these stories I used to create for myself the great grandmother who was truly great for me by them. Great as in life as in day dreams she was.

Born in the dark times to a wealthy aristocratic family, she was never the one for stereotypes. When education and profession eluded women, she showed the courage to step up and break down the barriers. She learned and exceled and then became a teacher, the first one from anywhere in her area. But that was not all, my mother always told me how she used to manage her carrier and the large paddy fields she inherited and all her children all alone. She was the most respected one of her lands and the local folks used to come to her for permission. She loved her men as they loved and respected her back.

My mother used to tell whenever gypsises came to the lands near hers they would come ask her permission before they would go anywhere. This is just one among the many stories I heard of my great grandmother. There is one another story that I always loved. My aunt told me once that whenever they went to hers for the summer breaks she would have by then plucked all the mangos in her plantation and hid it neatly under the hay stacks so that they would be ripe and the three of them would go scavenger hunting for mangoes.

I do wish I was there to witness it all. Bound in these concrete jungles of modern times, these little good times are for memories alone and any one who dares to dream of it as anything else is bound to disappointment as always. Those are the good time that will never be back upon us and they are special people who will be born once and if u missed them then you missed them. There is no going back. Yet I wish that was not true.