Celebration of Woman  

07 January, 2009

These are the two articles I wrote for my office magazine and they got published !! :-)
The magazine is named "Kshitij" .
The theme for this edition was "Celebration of Women" .
So the poem is based on "Mother" and the short story is Brother and sister relationship. Hope you enjoy reading !

Post -1
Mother



I kicked her
She kissed me

I tortured her
She nurtured me

I irritated her
She educated me

I fell down
Her tears rolled down

I broke my neighbor’s flower pot
She broke her friendship with them on that spot

In her I find peace
She makes me feel at ease

The crap I talk when I am mad
She will listen even if she is sad

For me to be outstanding
It was because of her understanding

For all that she has done bearing the pain
I will make sure nothing goes in vain

To her, I have a lot of things to say
About her, springs up new thoughts everyday

Through my thick and thin
She stood by my side
To show me the way and to guide

Her unconditional love knows no end
For me, she will always be best friend

She is an angel
We bonded without any gel

It all started when I was a baby
Now that I have turned into a young lady
I will love her as always
Forever and ever.
I love you mom !

Post-2
“He and She”


Today tears came running down her cheeks.
He stood there watching her cry.
“Happy tears “he said to himself.
It was not always the same feeling he had for her.
Jealousy, care, love, hatred. He has felt all this with her.
A mixed contradiction of all feelings. Women are complex!

He recollected the first time when they fought.
It was for a very asinine reason. He hated her with all his heart.
“How adamant!” he thought.
Women are supposed to give up and be compromising.
“That is how I read in school. But she is mad “he said.
To him, she was stubborn and arrogant.

Then came a time when he grew up. She grew up with him.
She and her best friend were walking in the mall, one day.
“Your friend is cute” he said.
He could see the anger in her face.
Jealousy! Women are known for it.
“Why can’t she accept the truth?” he thought.

She had gone for a trip to Delhi.
She returned back with a gift for him.
It was a shirt. He liked it. He liked her.
He loved her. But he dint tell it out.
“Love “was one of her qualities, he realized.

He remembered the day he needed her the most. He needed her to cry and vent out his feelings. A simple “I understand “would be her reply. But still he missed her. He kept calling her. But her line was busy; At last he managed to talk to her.

It did matter to him to whom she was talking to.
“Whom were you talking to?” he asked
“Ashwin” she said.
A sense of bitter feeling ran inside him. Fighting it, he continued talking to her.
A sense of possession he had felt for her and he realized it now.
“Is he a good guy? Why should she talk to him so long?” and many more questions ran inside his mind.
But he dint tell her anything.

And today she was crying. He was amazed by the way she reacted today.
When he cried she said “Boys don’t cry”.
Her care was one he would miss in her.
She was looking very pretty in her marriage saree.
And now she was someone else’s wife.
She was going to her new home. She cried for missing mom and dad.
The bonding was tightening inside him.
But she was going away from him.

Then she came to him and patted him.
She managed to smile at him amidst her tears.
He let her go.
“Love you sister” he said to himself.
Tears rushed out from his eyes too.
For in all sisters and in all mothers, there is a beautiful woman.
Woman who is an epitome of love, care, understanding, sacrifice, patience, virtues, jealousy, arrogance, attitude and of all.
Woman is a miracle of divine contradictions !!

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