Afternoon soiree

She stood at the bedroom door-watching mamma get dressed up. The combing of the hair into a neat bun, running of the pencil through the eyebrows, checking the lipstick was all so familiar. Mamma was going out - as she did most afternoons. “Be a good girl okay? I will be back soon.”
‘Don’t go mamma’ , she silently pleaded.

She felt the pair for eyes burning her back. The pair of eyes followed her as she went with mamma to the door. Mamma kissed her and went out. She stood there staring at the closed door until a pair of hands grabbed her shoulder.

“Let’s go”, came the hated voice. She silently marched off to her bedroom. “Hurry up".Tears dwelled up in her eyes as her clothes were taken off. “Now lets not have a drama ok. Lets enjoy it.’’

My son finishes a page of sums in a flash but takes eternity to do his writing work. I keep telling him, "Hurry up a bit ...how would you feel if you are the last one to finish in class....how would you feel if everyone finishes their work and you are still writing in the recess...etc."

One day in midst of the my lecture he looks at me and says, "Mamma why do you always want me to finish first? Everyone cannot finish first. Someone has to finish last right?"

A few minutes over a drink

They were meeting each other after a couple of years.. They had a less than an hour to catch up over a drink. Both with little time on hand, both tired with pending errands to be completed. There was a comfort level but a little akwardness too. The sort of thing that develops when your lives have gone separate ways, independent of each other. Yet you want to keep the connection going - in memory of what is was decades ago.

Ray fish

You

Deep down in your heart
You believe I repent
You think you know
For you know me so well
Yet it tortures you that you could not guess
How my mind worked that summer
And you may spend a whole life time tying to
Figure out what went wrong in understanding me…
May be you were too busy loving me