X - Xerox

Image Source

"Sasha!" their mother called out. 

"Yes, Mom?" one of the twins went and stood in front of her with a straight face.

As always, it was not easy to tell them apart, even for their parents. Sasha was a spitting image of Shayna and vice versa; one a xerox of the other. Two peas in a pod. 

Like most twins, growing up, they were always dressed identically by their Mom. They got into all sorts of mischief together and had each others' backs all the time. However upon reaching college, the twins were forced to go their separate ways. Sasha wanted to study the arts. She wanted to follow her passion to be a painter and artist. Shayna, on the other hand, was interested in the cut throat world of politics. 

Though they spoke to each other regularly, the physical distance soon turned into an emotional one. No matter how hard they tried to bridge the gap, it was always there, making its silent presence felt each time they came together at home for their vacations. 

Sixty years later, when the call came at midnight, it was certainly not what Sasha had expected. She knew that the choices she had made at a young age were not ones to be proud of. 

Hanging up the phone, Sasha wept for the sister she had and lost, for her other half, for the lost time that had flowed through her fingers like running water, for keeping things until it was too late to change any of it. 

As for Shayna, she had said goodbye to the world surrounded by her children and grandchildren. In those last moments, as she looked around at the familiar faces around her she realized that the one that she had wanted to see the most was missing in the crowd. 

As Shayna turned her head and looked into the mirror that someone had placed on her side table, she smiled seeing the wrinkled face looking back at her and closed her eyes for the last time. 

Linking this post to the A to Z Challenge. 

W - Wild

Wild was a movie that I had been looking forward to watching for quite sometime. There were so many good reviews going around and the story itself seemed interesting to me. So I finally sat down to watch it sometime last month. 

The film is based on Cheryl Strayed's memoir Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail. Like all bibliophiles, I would have liked to read it first before watching. Unfortunately, I didn't have a copy with me. I plan on buying one soon though. Anyway, coming back to the story, Cheryl (played by Reese Witherspoon) is a twenty six year old who sets out to hike more than a thousand miles of the Pacific Crest Trail alone in order to heal and find herself again. 

We all react to grief in different ways. When Cheryl, at twenty two years, loses her mother to cancer, she is devastated. As she says in the movie "She was the love of my life". In order to cope with the loss, she gets involved in drugs use, cheats on her husband with other men and eventually gets divorced. When there is a void in our life, we try to fill it with whatever things that we imagine will help us even in a small way. 

Finally, at twenty-six, after years of self destructive behavior, Strayed sets out alone on a hike seeking some sort of closure as a means of healing herself. The film alternates between the past and the present, showing us glimpses of her life as a child, teenager and young adult. The special relationship she shares with her mother is a central part of the story. 

We are also subject to some of the desperate measures that one is subject to while hiking alone on such a long journey. She breaks down, endures physical discomfort to a great level but holds on and comes out of it. Is this a light and entertaining movie? No. It will stay with you for a long time. Some of the images are quite graphic in nature. If you are up for it, do give it a watch. Wild is a movie that will make you introspect and think. 

This is a movie that shows us that we are not alone. It is possible to overcome grief. Even when it feels like you won't be able to make it to the next day. One step at a time and before you realize it, you shall be at the end of a reckless journey. Reese Witherspoon has done a very convincing job at portraying Strayed. If you are looking for a movie that makes you think, in ways more than one, give it a try. It may not be for everyone, but I sure liked it. In case you have watched it already, do let me know your thoughts below.

 

Linking this post to the A to Z Challenge. 

V - Voyage

Image courtesy: Google

Life is a voyage and we are all tiny vessels

Sailing against the wind called time 

The current may be rocky, sometimes smooth

But the trick is to maneuver, to remain steady

The journey is bound to be filled with adventure

We may have to sacrifice some in order to gain some

In the end all that matters is the journey 

Take in those sunsets and sunrises

Drink in all those sights along 

The sound of water lapping

Tiny fishes swimming afloat 

Never give up hope, have faith

There are unseen hands at play

Those dark and stormy nights

Won't last forever, they too shall pass

For the voyage must go on...

Linking this post to the A to Z Challenge. 

U - Umbrella

Image courtesy: Google

I watch her walk in the rain, the blue umbrella in her hand threatening to fold backward any moment in the wind. She is dressed in an emerald green dress, but it's wet, clinging to her curvaceous body, the shade in the dark looks almost black. 

She waits at the bus stop. Whom is she waiting for? A flash of lightening illuminates her face. I'm not sure if it was the rain, but her face is dripping wet. Is she crying? Or is it my mind playing tricks on me like always?

I don't go and talk to her, though that is what I'm dying to do. She is my addiction, an elixir in my otherwise dry life. The fragrance of wet earth and rain surrounds us. The bus stop is deserted. There is no one but me and her. I want to push the wet hair from her face, I want to know what her skin would feel like beneath my fingers. Will her hands be rough from conducting daily chores? Or will they be soft and supple like the jasmine flowers that she sometimes used to adorn her hair?

I watch a car stop not far away and couple of men getting out and approaching her. I'm angry, yet I do nothing but watch them. There seems to be some sort of argument. After a few minutes, she gets into the car with them. She catches my eye before closing the car's door, a wistful look on her face. 

What does she see when she looks at me? My torn clothes, the broken umbrella that has failed to keep even a strand of hair on my head dry or my begging bowl? I bid her goodbye silently; I know she will be back tomorrow. Just like yesterday or the day before. Just like how I know she is going to be cursed for the rest of her life. Like me. We would make a great pair. Me and her. Only if she would realize that. 

Linking this post to the A to Z Challenge. 

T - Twenty-six

Image courtesy: Google

On August 9, 2014, I turned the number that I have been dreading. Twenty-six. Yes, I'm was one of those people who were terrified at the thought of growing old and wrinkly. Like I read somewhere, I was officially on the 'uncool' side of twenties. Till I reached my twenties, I was someone who looked forward to growing older. Ageing gracefully? What did that even mean? However, life had different plans for me. Here are some things that has made me embrace my twenty-six year old self. Things that I have learnt in the last year that I haven't in the previous twenty five years of my life. 

> Nothing lasts forever. Not even the bad times. You will get up, dust yourself and carry forward. 

> It is never too late to learn something new. Try your hand at something different, break some rules. Live life on your own terms. 

> There shall ALWAYS be people who criticize you no matter how hard you try. Quit trying to impress them. The only person that you need to make happy is yourself. Owe it to only yourself. 

> Follow your passion. There maybe days when you feel like giving up, frustration may set it. But when inspiration strikes, it shall always be worth the struggle. 

> There are only a handful of people in your life who want the best for you. Treasure them. 

> You never know when you will have to say goodbye to a loved one. So spend as much time with those people you can't dream of living without. 

> When you let go of some of the people in your life, you will always find other kindred souls in their place. 

> Age is just another number. What matters most is how many of those years you spent on living and not just surviving. 

> Read all those books that have been piling on your shelf. Stop feeling guilty in abandoning a book halfway if it's not your cup of tea. 

> And lastly, don't ever lose hope or faith. The two go hand in hand :) 

So now, I can confidently say, the twenty-sixth year of my life has been a turning point in ways more than one. I have a couple more months for remaining twenty-six in my hands and intend to enjoy each and every moment to the fullest, doing the things that I love and relishing the things makes me happy. As for ageing gracefully, I may not be there yet, but I'm certainly on the right path :)

Linking this post to the A to Z Challenge. 

S - Secret

Image courtesy: Google

It is the falling snow outside that I see through the window that reminds me of her that morning as I wake up. There is a nip in the air, my fingers are cold despite the blanket covering me. Knowing that I would have to get up and start my day soon, I linger back lazily in the warmth of my bed. Closing my eyes, I allow the memories to wash over me. 

It was exactly a year back that the call came saying that Ammachi passed away. I knew she would have hated the sterile surroundings in which she had to bid adieu to her world. She would have wanted to be at home rather than the hospital that was filled with the smell of disinfectants and sickness all around. 

Of course, these were just how I assumed it would have been. The last time I saw her was on my way to the airport on my way here, to a foreign country as a new bride. I was nervous and excited all the same time. Little did I know then that it would be the last time I saw her. 

Such worrisome thoughts were far from my mind as she held me close and kissed my forehead that day. There was the fragrance of sandalwood around her, always. That is the smell that I associated with home; with her. And just before waving me goodbye and wiping away the tears that had formed involuntarily at the corner of her eyes (Ammachi hated crying), she gave me a package that was carefully wrapped in brown paper. 

"Open it when you miss me. This is the only gift that I have to give you right now. Guard it with all your heart, when all else fails, it shall come to your rescue. And remember, I'm always with you," with that she held me one last time and smiled. And that is the image that I have of her with me, even now. 

It was only when I reached here and after beginning my life as a wife did I think about the package. I was too caught up in the excitement that this new country had to offer. Everything was all sparkly and shiny, like a Christmas bauble. It was only after a couple of months did I really start to get homesick. I started craving for home cooked food, delectable cuisines that seemed to be whipped up easily in a matter of few minutes by Ammachi. 

That was when I remembered the package that I had left in my suitcase. Opening the wrapping, I felt my eyes sting with the memories that came flooding in. In there were hundreds of hand written recipes, each one marked and with little additions of notes as the years progressed. My grandmother's recipe book. The book still held a whiff of sandalwood fragrance as I turned the tattered pages. 

For vacations many years back, I used to pester her till she made me paal payasam almost everyday. That was a dish that I could never tire of. That afternoon, however, I tried making it for the first time. All by myself. No small feat, considering the fact that I had absolutely little or no experience in the kitchen. 

Needless to say, it was a disaster. On the verge of tears, I called her up that night and told her of the pathetic milky mess that was adamantly stuck to the bottom of my pan. 

"Oh, Ammu! Stop crying, you silly girl! Paal payasam requires the right consistency of milk and sugar. No one gets it right the first time," her words, however, offered me little solace to my wounded ego. Yes, I felt like a failure when things didn't turn out the way I envisaged.

"Remember, the secret ingredient to all the dishes that you savored as a child was love!" I could hear the twinkle in her laugh despite being so many miles away from me. Her happiness was infectious and soon I found a small giggle breaking the frown on my face. 

I open my eyes and wipe away my wet cheeks. Thinking of her always has this effect on me. I force myself to get her recipe book and try out the paal payasam once again. I had not attempted to make it again after that last time. As Ammachi left from our lives, so did all my cravings for her food. 

Today, however, is different. I feel an energy in my life that had been missing for so long. As I gather the ingredients for the paal payasam, I'm filled with a sense of purpose, a determination to master the art of making the king of payasams. 

I measure the exact amounts as she had written down many years back. I stir the milk till it's the right consistency and starts to change color. I crush the cardamom just before stirring it into the mixture, to pack the flavor, as she had written. I even measure the ghee for frying the cashew nuts and raisins in, exactly according to her instructions. 

With a satisfied sigh, I get a whiff of the payasam that has now started bubbling merrily on my stove. Switching off the stove with a happy smile, I pour the boiling hot payasam into a glass and blow on it lightly before bringing it to my lips. I close my eyes and savor the taste. It tastes like one I had never before. Or maybe, it is a taste that lay forgotten in the nooks of my mind till now, wrapped up in layers of nostalgia. I drink a whole glass of it and help myself to a second serving, scalding my tongue in greediness. 

"Ammu, you impatient girl! How many times do I have to tell you to let the payasam cool before helping yourself?" Ammachi's voice had a hint of a secret smile, one that I could still see if I closed my eyes and concentrated enough. I finally got what she had told me all those years back. There was no secret. No secret ingredient that she had kept hidden from me. It was love. It always was.  

The cold outside, all of a sudden, seems bearable right now. Wrapping my fingers around the hot glass, I feel the warmth spread all over, right down to my toes; along with the fragrance of sandalwood that seems to embrace the air all around me. 

*Ammachi - Grandmother
** Paayasam - A sweet dish made usually with milk and sugar that is mostly served as dessert. 

Image Source

Linking this post to the A to Z Challenge. 

P.S. Though this story is mostly fiction, it has a lot of me and my Ammachi in it. Ammu is my pet name :)

P.P.S. I didn't find any picture online that did the paal payasam actual justice. I have provided the picture that I liked the most amongst it. 

R - Regret

Image courtesy: Google

Do I regret the time 

we spent together? 

What once made me smile

Now carry remnants of hurt in them

Memories tainted by guilt

Yours or mine? 

All those nights spent in your arms

Seems so distant now

Riding on your bike 

Holding you tight 

Makes me reminiscent 

Of a time that was solely ours

Were you a mistake?

One that I willfully made?

All I know is that regrets I have none

You were a part of me and continue to be

Linking this post to the A to Z Challenge.