Tell Me No More of Enchanted Days

A lot of my friends are starting their own ventures, mostly solo. And they're all thinking of something outta the box, something niche. And I thought, what could I possibly do alone? Greeting card text! Personalised online letters? Poems for your beloved? Any takers? I can write loads of sweet sounding mush that appears believable and true. If my candy finger hasn't melted yet. Or I could keep waiting for that hike some more...

The simplest things in life are the ones that need to be cherished...like memories..like mothers...It's my Mom's birthday at the end of this month, and it comes once in four years. I always wanted to buy her diamonds, but my financial condition is so bad that I can't buy her anything at all. So I've decided to write her a letter, a long one...to tell her how muchI was always in awe of her as a child. She, the most beautiful, most kindest mother that one could have. Her food was always better than anyone else's, so was her style and her grace. My friends in school always looked in envy at my gorgeous mother with her short hair and sexy frocks. They begged to exchange tiffins with me. So I gave up three layered sandwiches and au gratin for someone's poha or chakli. She got us flowers everyday, and books from her office library which got us raps from Papa because they were read at the dinner table, also left in loos. I always say I owe who I am to a perfect mother

They left a hole in my wall, then said, "Madam, there's a wire here, if we go any further, there'll be a short circuit." So, I asked them what they planned to do. "Keep making holes till we find a safe point." I laughed and told them to stop. And thought to myself, when they'll ever be sure, of that place where danger doesn't exist. I don't like vulgar holes in my perfect wall. I like the labyrinth wire trap, keeping vulgar holes away from the wall, the minefield that casual labourers will dare not trample on. "Send the electrician first, he knows it all," I said. They came back saying, that the electrician had quit. So I stared at the gaping emptiness they left behind, It wasn't aesthetic, but I felt proud, as if it were my very own abstract masterpiece, that others would only pretend to understand.