A Letter From Me To You

Another week, another Indie Ink Writing Challenge. I challenged Amy to write about a different kind of courage and she has done an awesome job, go read it now.

Here is my response, the challenge I received is at the bottom of the post

Dearest husband,

Remember when we were kids, we would run and play on the streets all through summer? Remember the day I threw the ball into the crazy lady's house? I was shaking with fear when I saw her come out, red in the face, with my ball in her hand. I started crying, the way little girls do when they know someone was going to yell at them. You pushed me aside and told her that you threw the ball. You held your own for awhile, but soon realized that the only way to get my ball back was if you apologized. You did that and when you gave the ball back to me, you told me you would never let anyone make me cry.

I still remember our wedding like it happened yesterday. All the planning had come to a close, all the flowers were set up, the venue decorated and we felt like there was nothing left to do but get married. Then my cousin walked up to me, the bride, and made a rude remark about my weight. I barged into the groom quarters, with tears in my eyes. You wanted to beat up my cousin. I can still feel your palm in the small of my back and your other hand brushing my tears away. You told me that you would never let anyone make me cry.

In our first year of marriage, your parents visited us. I know your mother never liked me and I was determined to win her affection. I served a dinner that I slaved over for hours in the kitchen. Your father loved it, as did you. That night when I came to the kitchen to get a drink of water, I saw you sitting on the kitchen table, thumbing through a magazine while your mother talked about how you could have done so much better. You nodded absently, breaking my heart into a million pieces in the process. I forgot the water I had come down for and ran into our bedroom. You found me sobbing into the pillow an hour later and you were aghast. You thought you had forgotten an anniversary of some sort. When I told you why I was crying, your first instinct was to laugh at me. You spent the next hour explaining that your mother was just a crazy lady who didn't know the way to her son's heart. You said you never listened to most of what she said. You offered to make your parents leave our house that night but I refused to let you do that. You hugged me close that night and told me that you would never let anyone make me cry.

Two years back, you were out drinking with your buddies. You promised you would be back by ten. The clock struck two and you weren't home or picking up calls. I was worried sick and imagined you lying in a ditch somewhere. I thought maybe you didn't have a ride home and so I came searching for you in your favorite bar. You were fine - drunk to the gills and waiting on another drink. You yelled at me in front of everyone when I asked you to come home with me. Tears were streaming down my face when I drove back home, listening to the classic rock station on the radio. The next morning you brought me breakfast in bed, with a single red rose and said you loved me. I believed you. You told me that you would never let anyone make me cry.

The last two years have not been fun. We both seem to be growing in different directions. You have embraced your inner teenager and you think life is just one big party. Sure, I found your fun loving side an attractive quality when we were dating in college, but real life can can only take so much of that. When I asked you to pay attention to our bank accounts, you blew me a raspberry. When I insisted, you called me nag. That seems to be your favorite word for me, because you know I hate to be called one. I talked you into taking dance lessons with me, but you didn't turn up for even the first class. I have tried to do your thing, tried to come with you on your Friday night pub crawls. That's when I noticed you take off your wedding ring during these events. Seeing your naked finger was very hard for me. You took me aside and told me you loved me. I believe you.

Unfortunately love is not enough to keep a marriage alive. I think we need to separate, at least for sometime. By the time you find this letter, I will be at my parents' place. You will probably be shocked at this point, but honestly didn't you see it coming? You swatted me away whenever I wanted us to talk about our relationship and said counseling is for losers. What was I to do? I struggled with this decision, I really did. I made a promise to you, with God as my witness, to be with you for the rest of my life. But I realized that I had been crying myself to sleep, everyday for the last year. And you have broken your promise to me too. All my life you had been telling me that you would never let anyone make me cry. Don't you count as a person who makes me cry? Never is a promise and you can't afford to lie.

Love,

Me

PS. In case anyone is wondering and for the family who reads my blog - this is a fictional piece.

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This week's challenge comes from Seesaw. The challenge was:

Never is a promise and you can't afford to lie

I didn't know this was a song by Fiona Apple. The song is beautiful and I am listening to it on a loop now. Thanks for the challenge.

My Grandfather

This is my fourth week of participating in the Indie Ink Writing Challenge. I challenged Christina to imagine she was a horse on a carousal and she has done a great job answering it. Go read it here, I am sure you will love it.

This week's challenge is really delightful and comes from Amy who writes at Transplanted Thoughts. The challenge is:
Compare yourself to your grandparents. How are you alike? different? Tell us a special memory you have of your grandparents.

I am very close to all my grandparents. I started writing about all of them, but it became very long and anecdotal. So I am just going to talk about my grandfather. Many thanks to Stef who helped me with this prompt when I was stuck and gave my entry a once-over and made it spiffier.
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My father's parents lived with us when we were growing up. I have just a few memories of my paternal grandfather, like the way his eyes would light up when he talked about his children's accomplishments and the way he would argue with my grandmother about some seemingly trivial things. He died when I was about seven years old. When you lose a grandparent at that age, you have to treasure and safe guard memories of them so that they stay with you for the rest of your life.

I was about three, when my parents enrolled me in this awful pre-school because that was the closest to our home. I used to cry and throw a tantrum because I was a snob (even) then and I didn't want to go a dinky school. I think after a few weeks my parents were sick of my drama and let me quit. Years later, my mother told me that it was my grandfather who didn't let my parents put me in a nicer school that was farther away, because he didn't want his precious granddaughter to go further than a few steps away from home. He loved to gamble and belonged to a club of some sort where he went to play cards. He won a small sum of money once in a lottery (say something around $20) and asked my sister and I what we wanted. I don't remember what I said, but my sister said that she wanted a new car! (I am sure I wasn't half as ambitious and most likely asked for a candy bar). He was half annoyed and half amused and told her he would get her a toy car instead. I have a lot of memories of my father yelling at him, I don't remember why. My father tells me that my grandfather was an honest upright Public Works Department officer who didn't have an enemy in the world. I have seen an old picture of him looking very handsome in his evening jacket and I can imagine how dashing he must have been, driving a jeep to dams and other rocky areas for work. Dad told me that he was very strict and would not bend the rules for anyone. I like to believe that I am a stickler for rules just like him, a pod and we're the peas right? He was an extremely friendly person and would invite a lot of people home for dinner without so much as letting my grandmother know in advance. I wish I had inherited his gregarious nature too. I am gun shy when it comes to talking to people and I have just a few friends whom I hold close to my heart. My father is still in touch with people who gush about what a great person my grandfather was.

A day or two before cancer took my grandfather's life for good, he called me and my sister to his room. I don't remember his exact words, but I do remember him patting us on our head and kissing us. I am ashamed to say that I was in a hurry to get out because his room always smelled funny and I did not hug him or say something personal. This is something I regret to this day. Would it have killed me to have said a few words to him? I can still see his smiling face and his hands reaching to stroke my hair. Why didn't I hug him back?

It Had To Be You

This is my entry to this week's Indie Ink Writing Challenge. The challenge I received is at the bottom of the post.

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She walked out of the class with a heavy step. It was not that this was a particularly boring class. It had been one of her favorite classes until a few months ago. She loved the professor who taught this class, in fact he had been the one who had nudged her into picking her major. But lately nothing seemed interesting or worthy of her enthusiasm. "Hey do you want to come to the party at Mike's place next weekend?", it was her best friend who had caught up with her. She sighed and nodded her head in the affirmative. She didn't feel like going, but she had to. Mike was her ex-boyfriend and if she didn't go it would seem as if she was still not over him. She was the one who had dumped him a few months ago, the victor of the breakup if you will. Which meant that he got all the sympathy and she had to keep being normal and act like it wasn't a big deal.

But it wasn't the breakup that was bringing her down. Something was missing from her life and the worst part was she didn't know what it was. She tried music, partying, self help books but they just made her more weary. It seemed like nothing got her excited anymore. She missed being deliriously happy. She even tried skydiving, hoping that would crank up the systole of her heart and maybe the thrill would shock her back into good cheer. Sadly she was the only nonchalant skydiver that the instructor had ever seen.

That evening, she packed her car to go home for the weekend. Her parents lived four hours away and insisted that she visit them once a month. Considering that they were paying for her tuition, dorm and her car, she figured it was a small price to pay.

It was past dinner time when she pulled into their driveway. Her mother was waiting at the door and smothered her with kisses, while asking about the drive at the same time. She walked in and there she saw it! It was this huge record player, smack in the middle of the living room, looking anachronistic amidst the big screen LED TV and the Bose surround sound system. Her father stood by it proudly, preening like he had invented the gramophone. He said that he had found this at a garage sale two streets down. Her father had been a salesman till he retired, and there was nothing he loved more than a good deal. The guy who was selling this didn't know it's value and had thought that he was foisting it on her dad for $50. Her dad had played along, expressing some reluctance initially, until the guy threw in a bunch of Sinatra vinyl records to seal the deal.

She still felt that her father had got the wrong end of the bargain. She shook her head, part in amusement and mostly "I can't believe you actually bought that". But her father would have none of it. Soon Sinatra's mellifluous voice filled the air of the house singing "It had to be you". Her father took her hand and they started swaying to Sinatra. Her mother cut in for the next dance and before they knew it, they had danced the night away. She went to her room, exhausted and still humming a tune. A smile that had been in hiding the last couple of months, found its way into her mouth and eyes. Sometimes you need Sinatra and a deal crazy Dad to put things into perpective.

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My challenge was from lifenbits. It was:

Write a story using these words: anachronic, foist, systole.

At first I thought it was a toughie and I had to look up two of the words for meanings. But once I found the main thread, it just kept going. Thank you for the challenge. I enjoyed writing this.

I challenged Michael Webb with "He ran on the beach, with the waves lapping at his aching legs. What is he running from?" and he responded here beautifully. Please do go and read it, I think he has done a great job.

Rainbows in Real Life

This is my entry to this week's Indie Ink Writing Challenge. The challenge I received is at the bottom of the post.

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I walked into the building with a skip and a jump. Today I was going to see where my Mommy worked. Our playschool was closed today because it was take your children to work day. She hadn't wanted me to come to work with her, but our babysitter said she couldn't watch me this morning. Also I cried and cried till she caved. I was so excited that I was going to see what Mommy did everyday after she dropped me at the daycare. I imagined that it must be something magical, with rainbows on the walls.

But something seemed amiss. The walls really needed a coat of paint. And the stench of something unpleasant teased my tender senses when I walked through the corridors. "Mommy, what happens when we walk all the way to the end" I asked, filled with curiosity that all five year olds have. "To the rooms", she said and started talking to a woman using some big words I couldn't understand. I spent that time hopping on one leg and trying to guess what those rooms were for.

Soon we reached my mother's office. Like the rest of the building, the room had a dark aura about it. I was glad to see my mother had hung the pictures I had drawn on the wall. I made a mental note to draw her a rainbow soon. I sat on a chair that was too big for me and started working on the lollipop that my mother had given in exchange for good behavior.

The woman who had accosted my mother in the hallway came in with another woman and a boy. The woman looked pale and haggard with some ugly welts on her face. The boy looked about my age, but he didn't respond to my friendly wave. He looked scared and his clothes were too big for him. He hid behind his mother and looked at everyone with his big brown eyes. My mother talked to them and pressed some random keys on her computer. She asked her colleague to lead them to the dining hall and assured them they were safe here.

"Mommy, can I play with that boy later? Please? What's his name? Does he go to play school too?"

My mother turned to me and smiled sadly. "He can't play with you today. He is not well. He hasn't had a meal in two days. After he eats, he is going to visit the doctor."

I felt bad that I hadn't offered him my lollipop. That's why he didn't wave back at me. Maybe his Mommy had made broccoli for dinner the last two days. I really hated broccoli.

"Sweetie, do you realize these people and everyone who is in those rooms are not well. They don't come from happy homes. Most of them don't even have homes. Some of them don't have enough to eat. Sometimes there are parents who don't love each other, nor their children. This is what we do, we try to help them, give them a place to stay, food to eat in the hopes that they get better soon."

Tears welled up in my eyes and I forgot to swallow the bits of the lollipop in my mouth. I couldn't believe that there were children without a home, a Mommy to bake cakes, a Daddy to throw you up in the air and catch you and ice cream every Friday at dinner.

"Mommy, can we empty my piggy bank at home and buy all the kids candy?"

My mother hugged me with tears in her eyes. Many years later, she told me that she had never been more happy and sad at the same time than at that moment.

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This challenge was very difficult for me. At first, I wanted to write a funny piece about a child who doesn't understand what her parent did at work everyday and the parent struggling to explain it in a way that the child can understand. But it didn't go anywhere, I think pathos is easier than comedy. :) It's been a while since I was a kid and I don't have any children, and so writing about parent-child relationships was hard (my challenge last week was also about the same relationship) But I think this is the beauty of the challenge, it forces you to go outside your comfort zone and actually write.

My challenge was:

4/28 is take your daughter to work day. Imagine this is your first time going to see your mother or father's place of work. What does s/he do? What do you see? Who do you meet?

Thank you Melissa for the challenge. I hope you like what I did with it.

I challenged Wendryn to write about rain and she has a beautiful post up on the topic.

Just a Bunch of Keys

Last Monday, I drove home for lunch like I usually do (I live 1.5 miles from work and yes I eat lunch at home everyday and sometimes even play on the Wii a little before going back to work) At my door, I looked for my keys in my purse and couldn't find them (My car keys are in a separate key ring. Don't ask why, no reason). No biggie, I figured I had just forgotten to take it in the morning since S had left for work after me. I went to my favorite sandwich place for lunch and didn't worry about it.

Tuesday morning, when I was scrambling to leave for work, I groped around in the little bowl we use for keys and I couldn't find them. I started worrying then. That night, I searched in the usual places that I find my keys, in my coat pocket, my other purse, in my gym bag, in S' coat pocket and so on. No dice! I remembered that I had gone to the gym on Saturday morning and I had my keys then.

On Thursday I went to my apartment office and asked about a temporary key. They gave me one, but said that I would need to change my locks if I had lost my keys which would cost $75. My heart skipped a beat, because I was planning a shopping trip that weekend and my entire budget was around that much. I convinced myself that I had left my keys at the gym and asked the nice lady at the front desk if anyone had turned in a set of keys. She told me that if they key ring contained the gym access card, they would look up the phone number and call. And if I hadn't been called, they didn't have my keys. She also mentioned that replacing that access card would cost $10. I knew that my shopping trip was doomed.

When I came home I started thinking about my key ring. It had a MVP card from Food Lion, a grocery store chain in Raleigh, NC which was where I landed in the US in 2007. I didn't understand why they would give discounts only to people with cards, but if that meant a little lower in food costs, as a poor grad student I would take it. I didn't know that this was how most grocery stores worked. I also had a NC State Wolfpack Rules key tag (is it what it is called?). I have not attended any game in college ever, but I felt so proud to get that. It meant that I was a part of NC State. After that Food Lion incident, I went a little card crazy and I had a nice little bunch from a myriad of stores. One time when S had a stopover in Minneapolis, he found this keychain at an airport store that looked like a small licence plate and said "Jan". That gift meant a lot to me because after a two hour flight and with a three hour flight ahead of him, if he can stop to buy something because it had my name, it means he loves me right?

When you think about it, a key ring is so much more than just keys. At first I felt bad because I didn't want to spend the money to replace my keys. But then I started feeling sad about losing all of this. And just as I was typing the last sentence, S threw a bunch of keys at me. He found it, gentle readers! I think he is a keeper. I have never been happier to hold keys in my hand. Isn't this a beautiful sight?

All Things Considered

This is my entry for the Indie Ink Writing Challenge. This is my first time and I feel a little nervous because the other writers are just awesome (for the lack of a better superlative). The challenge I received is at the bottom of the post. Here goes

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Her heart was beating faster with every step she took to her son's room. She had made that trip a million times and yet had never realized there were so many steps from the living room to his bedroom.

He was lying on his bed with a sullen look on his face.

Hi sweetie, how was school today?

Don't "how was school today" me!

She felt a little cheered up. At least it was not the silent treatment. She thought about asking about homework, but wisely decided not to.

I want to talk to you about something. I know I should have checked with you before doing anything. It's not like I am the only person who is affected by this.

Well duh!

She could see his mind churn furiously, searching for a better response.

I know, I know! I screwed up this time. But you should think about this from my perpective too. It's hard for a woman like me to get out there.

The minute she became a little defensive, the anger came back flushing into his hot cheeks.

No no, that is not a reason! If I trash the house tomorrow because I feel upset, would you consider that from MY perspective? Or the next time I fail an English class and tell you it's because I hate reading, would you let me off without bringing the roof down with your high pitched shrieks? So to answer your question, no, I refuse to consider anything from your perspective. If anything, you should have thought about me. I don't know how I am going to face my friends tomorrow. How about thinking about that for a change?

She blinked back her tears after the eloquent tirade. She agreed with everything he said. What was she thinking!

I am sorry.

She said the words she came to say and said it again.

I am sorry. I really am. I know this is a difficult transition for you. Your father left less than six months ago and I know it must feel awful to see your mother out on a date with your classmate's father. But it has been hard after your father left and it's been a while since anyone made me feel pretty. But obviously it is too soon and at any rate I should have talked to you before I did anything. I didn't mean for you to find out this way, when you spotted us at the restaurant yesterday. I will call him tonight and tell him that I can't see him again. You are the most important person in my life.

She felt a wave of relief washing over her entire being the minute the words were out. She had really struggled with alternating feelings of guilt and romance pulsing through her mind the entire time on the date. She wondered how her ex husband had managed to cheat on her for more than a year and claimed to have enjoyed it.

Oh you wanted to feel pretty! Is that why you bust out my Halo:Reach out of the XBox without saving my campaign and put in your stupid Biggest Loser Kinect game? You know I was playing that campaign with my friends on Live. How many times do I have to tell you that you do not just pop out a game from the Xbox without hitting save? Do you know how long it's going to take for me to get to where I was? Why couldn't you have used the Wii Fit instead?

She stared him, hearing but not comprehending what he was saying.

Did you even hear what I said?

Oh that, yeah whatever. I mean, don't make me be nice to his kid or anything. Or let me see anything that will make me throw up.

She looked at him trying to hold back a different kind of tears this time. He had been a Daddy's boy ever since he was a baby and this could not be as easy as he made it out to be. She remembered the look of surprise on his face when he had seen her yesterday and it had broken her heart into a million pieces. She knew that he had done a lot of soul searching, after all the light in his room had been on until after midnight yesterday. She was being let off easy only because he wanted to and she was grateful for that. Sometimes, wise men take refuge under video games.

So let's make it a rule. The XBox is off limits to you. Or if you want to use it, send me a text asking if it is ok. You know we should just move the big TV and the XBox into my room. The Wii does not do HD, so you can make do with my TV.

She gathered him, despite his protests and gave him a big hug and after a few seconds he hugged her back too. Sometimes, the best conversations happen when people don't say out loud exactly what they are thinking.

She skipped down the stairs, humming a tune. They were going to be alright.

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My prompt:

Dialogue between a parent and child over a serious mistake the parent has made.

My prompt was from Joelyn. Thank you for this prompt. It was hard to do dialogue only and I hope you don't mind the narratives I sneaked in between.

What's Up With This Blog?

I have been thinking a lot about this blog lately. I started this blog back in the days of yore, when I broke up with S. We all know where that ended, don't we? But even back then, I started a blog because I loved to write. I tell everyone I meet that when I grow up I want to write a book. Sadly this blog does not look like something that a writer owns. And apart from owning a Moleskin notebook and claiming ownership to S' Macbook Pro, I don't bear any semblance to a writer too. Any (imagined) creativity in me has dried up like a creek in Madras during summer.

That needs to change, pronto! And it begins with changes to my blog. I ashamed to read the past posts, where I talk about the Kinect. Jeez! And I have 2 unpublished posts that also talk about the Kinect. When I am not writing about the Kinect, it is Super Mario. Though I have been reading some wonderful books lately, there is no talk of them. This blatant reduction in the quality of my writing has not resulted in more quantity too. I feel sad that the first page of my blog has posts back from September. And look at the blogs on my blogroll, with the exception of one, all others have not been updated in months.

One of my favorite blogs in the whole wide web is widelawns. She has some extraordinary tales and she writes the regular stories in an extraordinary way too. If I could write half as well as she does, I would consider quitting my job and start writing a book. In her last post, she had talked about the Indie Ink Writing Challenge. Since I am the kind of person who jumps into things without thinking about anything, I registered for next week's challenge. And then I started reading the past challenges and reading the incredible writing by the amazing writers. I feel quite intimidated and honestly would not have signed up had I read more of the writing before. But I did sign up and I have decided to try my best. I have sent my prompt and got my challenge. I will post my response by Thursday.

Gentle readers, this means that I want to grow up. I like writing almost as much as I like reading. I want to take this business of writing more seriously. That is not say that I will only be writing about art and other such serious matters. I will still be writing silly stories, things that happen to me and rant about people I don't like. But I want to write more and not in 140 characters or less. It seems presumptuous to write a post saying I want to write more, when I can just go ahead and write more without making so much of an ado. But they say that if you want something bad enough, you need to tell the universe what you want to make things happen. And I am doing just that. Just hope the universe reads blogs.