Life is a piece of cake;
there are bad batter days
with too much sugar to take
some days the eggs spoil it
or the salt shaker falls over
the chocolate fails to melt
or the vanilla seeps in too long
you’d want a white layer of icing
and maybe a cherry or two on top
you’d waste more than a few hours
and end up with just a mush of mess.
Life’s like a piece of cake, too
when the wet and dry mix well enough
you’d have a cake you’re proud of.
Tag: reality
Petty
Trod on unnoticed,
the puny kids endure school
like sidewalk plants, small.
The Move
It was the big day. She was nervous, worried, scared, and anxious all at the same time.
——–
Friends in her old school had warned her about moving into a new school. They had told her to stay back, “So what if your dad got a transfer? You can stay in the hostel with us.” But her mother had been stubborn. They had to move to a new city and Jessica wasn’t to argue.And so she had packed up her books, her toys, and her favourite stuffed animals. Rhonda and Mervin had teared up when they said their goodbyes. “Please come visit us,” Mervin had said, wiping her tears with the handkerchief pinned to her pinafore. And Rhonda had been too upset for anything more than a giant hug.
And so she had packed up her books, her toys, and her favourite stuffed animals. Rhonda and Mervin had teared up when they said their goodbyes. “Please come visit us,” Mervin had said, wiping her tears with the handkerchief pinned to her pinafore. And Rhonda had been too upset for anything more than a giant hug.The other kids had tried to be more helpful. “Hey, be careful. I heard kids in that city are
The other kids had tried to be more helpful. “Hey, be careful. I heard kids in that city are barbarous. They’ll tease you, and push you, and won’t pick you in group games.”Jessica tried to tell her mom all this, but she wasn’t to argue. They had filled up the car and ridden off to the city of Bangalore. She had walked into
Jessica tried to tell her mom all this, but she wasn’t to argue. They had filled up the car and ridden off to the city of Bangalore. She had walked into the school and everyone had teased her, ‘Just like Peter said,’ she wailed to herself. But she wasn’t to argue, so she adapted instead. Ten years went by and new school had now become
Ten years went by and new school had now become school. Strangers had become classmates and some even friends. As she stood at the gate on the last day of her school life, Jessica remembered Rhonda. “Please come visit us,” Rhonda’s teary voice reverberated in her head. Jessica had never gone back. “Friends forever!” They had declared to one another. And she hadn’t even called Rhonda once since the move. Mervin had called her twice, but she had been too busy with her new friends to answer or call back. Bangalore had thrown her in the midst of iPhone photographers and makeup-clad girls. She had been too distracted to think of small town Rhonda and Mervin.
And standing by the gate, alone, she yearned to sit once again, at the school canteen with Rhonda and Mervin by her side. And then she realised, it was time to make the visit she had postponed for so long.
—
It was the big day. Her old town was still old, still shabby, and still small. She approached the decaying school building with its peeling paint and cracked walls. And there they stood, looking much older than in her memories of them, Rhonda and Mervin. They had grown out of their pinafores and into dainty dresses. Jessica smiled at them and saw they did too. There was not a hint of or anger in their eyes. She began walking towards them, and every step sent shivers down Jessica’s spine.
Lesson to Be
When the new girl joined their class, the sixth graders had all gawked at her. She was at least five inches shorter than the shortest kid in their class.
She wore round glasses and had leather-bound books. She had to sit in the first row because she couldn’t see the teacher from anywhere else. From the first day, she knew she’d find no friends in her classmates. They teased her all the time, hid her books at a height she couldn’t reach and, snatched her specs away in jest. It was torture for her and amusing for them.
If her height was one reason, her name was another to make fun of her. She was called Hermia.
They would learn their lesson the following year in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
One of Those Days
Summer’s gone, and so’s its breezy aftermath. We’re now rushing into monsoons that could get so bad that the entire city flooded last year.
This year, it started with untimed rains and unpredicted washouts. When I put my clothes out to dry, I didn’t know it would rain. When I walked into the office, I didn’t know it would start pouring ten minutes later. When I stood on the balcony looking out at the darkening sky, I didn’t know I’d have to wade in through puddles to reach home later in the evening.
I didn’t know I had walk past polyethene bags ingrained in wet soil, worms creeping over stones, and dogs shaking their manes, drenching me in the process.
I didn’t expect to get my pants splashed with mud and my just-washed hair getting another involuntary wash.
I didn’t want to be the only person in our building to come home to soggy clothes after all day at work. Or the one that washed her shoes every day because they drowned in pools of rainwater.
I didn’t ask for the monsoon to make me miserable. I didn’t want my sunshine to cower behind clouds, unable to push them away.
But when I walked towards my office today, I saw the sun trying. Reigning clouds veiled her, yet she shone —- weak, but steady. And I smiled. It doesn’t matter how lousy the monsoon makes me feel. If the sun can get through it, so can I.
