60 And NOT OUT

I am at the golden age of 60. In fact I turned 60 the last week. And then, I was handed a letter of retirement, reminding me how tireless journey I have been through, in these years of yearned service. Only I know what efforts I have given to this school where I taught and what it took from my slice of life to be here today.

The temple bell chimed, the cuckoo was singing in the soft breeze of dawn. The sun was peeking in between the clouds as if a child is mischievously playing hide and seek. Her face had lost its shine. She had a wrinkled face, dimmed eyes and dry grey hair. She had grown into an old woman into the past few years. Sitting in the garden, she was remembering.

I was sitting on my Jhoola (Garden Swing) and staring at the open cloudless October skies of Jammu at the foothills of the Himalayas. Myriad thoughts were pouring into my mind that made my heart ache with bitter sweet memories. With every sip of the lemon ginger green tea, I recalled my farewell speech that I had delivered yesterday. The faces of those teary eyed students and staff were fresh in my memory and the image lingered before my eyes as I was staring at the sky. A distant loneliness and nostalgia engulfed me. It was the same time of the morning that I had been rushing around all these years to reach my school on time. But today it seemed that the time had stopped, and everything was frozen in their place. There was an uneasy sense of relaxation. My heart and body were cool and calm but my mind wandered from one thought to another reminiscing the past three decades.

I saw my garden and its colours. The colours seemed very different from ever before. I thought that as these beautiful flowers of my garden would end up one day with fall of petals one by one, my life too will also come to an inevitable end. Although the time seemed still, its imperceptible passing made me sad and nostalgic.

I picked up the water pipe and began to water my plants, mechanically. I felt a certain sense of contentment in the flowers of my garden. Now onwards, they would be more in touch with me, and this thought consoled me a bit. I pondered on the question of what to do after my retirement.

The words penned down on a piece of paper, my retirement notice, had taken away all my expressions and feelings and read out loud my aching heart.

“Mumma! Mumma….ji!!!”

I was broken from my reverie by my younger daughters voice.

“Where are you? You have a missed call!” Jagriti called out loudly. Amidst the ocean of my thoughts, suddenly I hit on the hard solid ground of reality.

“Whose call is it? I don’t know! Keep the phone away!”

After some time I kept on wondering who it might be. “Jaggi, let me call that number. It must be Akanksha calling.”

Akanksha is my sweet little elder daughter, who lives in Delhi and practices Ayurveda. She sometimes plays pranks over the phone. “Let me see what she is up to, now!”

I started dialing the unknown number.

“Hello!” a sweet unfamiliar voice came up on the other side. “Yes, who do you want to speak to?”

“Me?!! Not me, its you, Madam, who called up first! The call was from your side first. What’s up? From where are you calling? Madam, please tell me where are you speaking from. I found a missed call from your number, hence I called back!” I said. I was a bit upset since morning. I was fantasizing what about the new and creative things I would do during my retirement.

“Missed call?!”That chirpy sweet voice retorted in a surprised tone. Then, she said reassuringly, “Don’t worry, it must be a WRONG NUMBER! I am from Mandi. May I know from where are you calling?”

“Jammu!” I replied. The voice at the other end of the phone sounded happy and full of vigour. There was passion in it.

“Madam, don’t worry, it happens many a times. You live in a beautiful place. Nice to have a chat with you. I am Alka here. The sweet voice said.

“Hi Alka! I am Dilshad! I thought my daughter must be playing some pranks. It is nice to talk to you. I never thought that I will get such a decent reply from a wrong number. I am teacher. And yesterday I have retired from my school. They had given me a farewell yesterday. I was in a flashback and memories with a heavy heart since today morning. Suddenly I got distracted by the call on the cell phone. But after talking to you, I am feeling so relieved. Never thought that I would love to get a friend after dialing a wrong number! I was thinking of giving back to my community, doing something for the homeless elderly people. Also of course, I wanted to cherish my hobby of photography by traveling. Somewhere during this time, my late husband’s business suffered a series of losses as he was suffering from cancer. Oh! I am only talking about myself! Please tell me about Mandi, I have never heard of the place!” I asked gingerly.

“Oh! I have listening very intently. I found your talk very interesting! I am in Mandi. It is in Himachal Pradesh Ma’am! Its a beautiful place surrounded by mountains and the River Beas, its a small place which comes as you travel to the Kullu valley and the highway leads to Manali.”

Alka was beautifully crafted by god, with her twinkling blue eyes , lustrous lips and sharp features, she was a well sculptured “pahadan”. There was a jubilation in her voice and for her agile nature, she was the heartthrob of her small town.

Alka told all about her place and people. It was nice listening to her. My tensed mind relaxed with this chit – chat.

She continued, “So sorry Madam. Retirement is your time. In Mandi, we celebrate retirement like it be a wedding! There is a grand function and everyone rejoices. Your time – to be who you want to be actually! You can crave for something new. Enjoy this beautiful world with your grandchildren and family. In everyone’s life there is some or the other trouble or problems. But when you worry, you make it double. Don’t worry! Arrange to meet with friends for coffee each morning. Join a club. Whatever you do, make it a habit. Do it being NOT OUT!”

“Yes, Alka! This wrong number has given so much hope and now I rethink of living life, doing, feeling, seeing, adapting, changing, loving and adding another brick to the new foundations of my life’s journey. Retirement will have to wait for me!” I replied.

I will be your lifelong friend my wrong number!

You have given me hope and path towards happiness. We can be friends forever! You are my WRONG NUMBER!

Da … Dadi!

Small tender hands curled up my neck from my back. Holding and kissing me innocently. It was my granddaughter. It was entangling me towards life. She had collected a lot of night jasmine flowers, that had fallen on the ground overnight. The fragrance of the night jasmine was wafting all over the place. I suddenly remembered, that the night jasmine tree had been planted by my husband. While I was inhaling the aroma of the flowers, I felt his presence and realised he was egging me on to start a new innings of my life afresh.

.

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Still Life Goes On ….

I am a girl. Today is my 10th birthday I am very happy. World is like a paradise… a fairy tale land where iam the princess Snow-white or Cinderella… spending my life joyfully, my heart is full of childish dreams.. I am a carefree child, playing all the time, going for hunting in the evening with my friends to collect bright feathers and curious round pebbles. And then one day, imperceptibly, with time I grew up I was no longer kids. Our childhood dreams got lost. Now, no one tells us to go out and play. When we were children, we were of pure heart, innocently winning hearts of millions ..But time and tide waits for none..

I am the younger one so my elder brother and sister love me so much. I am shining star of my parents. I love my home and family.

Time passed rapidly i turned into 16. My elder sister get married and residing with her husband. Life is pretty busy with my study activities, but still joyful.Enjoying TEENS of my life with having lots of dreams in my eyes .I am very happy. I am a teenager in her prime. The world is like a paradise for me with all the fun in school, friends and mischiefs. I am spending my life joyfully without getting fussy over things and without a care in the world about tomorrow. I am the shining star of my home. I love my home and my parents. I want to decorate home as per my wish but I am told that I am young and immature to do this and when I will get married I will have ample opportunity to decorate my home according to my wish. So i have started to wait to grow up to be lady for all my wishes to get fulfilled.

With passing time, I grew up into a sincere college going girl waiting for all my desires to be a successful woman living her life with dignity. Life is pretty busy with my study activities, but it still is joyful with college friends, college canteens, bunking classes, watching movies and celebrating each moment of life but with a little bit of trepidation about the future too.

But with the passage of time everyone made me realize that this is not my home.

I turned into 20, my elder brother get married and i am happy that bride of my brother ll fill up the vacated space of my sister and we both ll set the house beautifully. But with the passage of time she make me realized that this is not my home. I have to go to a new home after marriage and that ll be my permanent home. This reality was hurting but my parents are now grown old and they are worried about me so i felt that this is necessary to go to my permanent home by getting marry in order to satisfy my parents.

I have to go to a new home after marriage and that will be my permanent home. This reality started hurting me deep inside but looking into my parents eyes it was better to get married so as to see them happy and finish up their responsibility , settling my home. I don’t want to leave my home but I have to.

A boy has been selected for me. Though it is very difficult to leave “my home” and parents and to join a new family, home and man in a new environment with a lots of new values and rules. It will take a lot of effort in adapting them and forgetting this home which I thought is mine but Alas!

Now I have to move ahead to another home …”MY HOME” this with lots of fears and dreams in my eyes. I am now ready to make my home and decorate it but leaving my parents and my native place is the worst part that every girl goes through. Is it easy ???? A few of them are lucky to get a good surroundings and acceptance from new people others struggle till the end of their lives.

After marriage I realized that life is very tough with lots of responsibilities, household work and if you want to work then finish up all the household chores then after making all others happy you can start up your own. Again only a few are lucky enough to get enough support otherwise it all depends on the husband’s or in laws ‘s wish. My wishes have no value. Because I came to know that this is not my home, I can live in this house only if I obey all the orders/ wishes of my in laws and husband.

I completed my half century with all greys and blues.i.e. I am 50, my son is my the hope of life and my ultimate happiness. He is my wealth. He loves a girl and wants to marry her. I am happy bringing that girl as my daughter in law. They are very happy with each other but slowly they make me realize that this is their home and I am useless here disturbing their lives……

I am turned into 60, sitting on a bench in park thinking about my home “my home:”, where it is. Can anyone guide me and other women like me…..

Aunty!!Radha…Aunty! please give us our football. A curly haired boy shouted. I rolled my eyes for the ball and kicked it in the air as if that ball kissed the utmost point above the horizon with a wink in my eyes .. a hope still remains in my heart,Life goes on!!

Beauty of Womanhood

You are more powerful than you know; You are beautiful just as you are

Melissa Etheridge

Every woman is beautiful inside. She just needs to realise this. And this realisation will make her grow and expand and allows her wings to soar.

The good thing is, when you realise you are beautiful, it becomes your first step towards harnessing the power within you.

The BEAUTY of womanhood is that, women are blessed with a nurturing force. Not only do they create life but also they incubate it and deliver it to the world, notwithstanding the immense pain inside them.

People often try to dissuade us from reaching our goals but a strong woman will overcome every hurdle to make herself a rainbow of life. In being strong inside, one can change their way of life – growing and developing one’s own life as she choose it to be. Creating paths, rather than letting others to decide what sort of life one will have. With determination and willpower one can do wonders. Being strong makes one beautiful.

Speaking up for themselves is one of the keys to becoming strong. It is this important skill that motivates one to lead a life of one’s own choice and to become the best woman that one can be. When you pursue dreams you have to speak up to achieve your goals.That’s one of the things that makes you beautiful .

Mother Teresa was a lady that we all adore for her selfless love and caring for the poor. She embraced all and did small things with great love and beauty to serve the people. She inspires us to live for others, to spread love and kindness. So, being beautiful is also having a kind heart to bestow love for others to be an inspiration to the world.

When I was younger, I watched the Miss Universe beauty pageant where Ms Sushmita Sen was asked:-

What is the essence of being a woman?

She was able to conquer the universe with her instantaneous and prudent answer, empowering thousands of other beauties who need to breathe. She answered, “Being a woman by itself is a gift of the God that all of us should appreciate, the origin of a child is a mother and is a woman. Woman is one who shares love with men and teach that what love, caring and sharing is all about.”

It was 24 years ago. Her inspirational thoughts changed my views regarding the definition of a beautiful woman.

She writes poetry. Well, she basically weaves magic with her words. After reading them I thought to pen down my own thoughts. It inspired me during those days to write poetry. I was in school and I started my journey of writing, which I still do to express my emotions.

Last year, I had to leave my much loved teaching job due to our transfer. I felt suffocated and stuck up at this new place. However, the passion of writing again motivated me to chase my dreams – a new path indeed. It was a doorway to live my life with a disarming smile from the depth of my heart .

There are a lot of inspiring personalities in my list. These are beautiful people who are working dedicatedly to make a mark and are inspiring others. I will write about a few of them.

My Mother – an angel on Earth.

Since I am very close to my mother, she is also my inspiration in life. As she sacrificed so much to make us stand on our feet. Life grappled us with many problems but she stood by us every time we needed her.

Losing my Dad to a deadly Cancer – our world was suddenly broken. Only because of her patience and dedication that we are, where we are today. We means, my brother and myself. She has the highest respect and love in my heart. How she raised both of her children, protected us like a bird, taking care of her chicks, giving warmth when our spirits were low and till today, being our “Rock “.

It is her wisdom of ages which we carry in our heart today to make our world beautiful. She is a reflection of unconditional love, power, beauty and inspiration for us. Being a single mother, she fought with the world whenever needed and protected us.

As we stand today, I find myself totally dedicated and steelily determined towards my work through the doldrums of my life, all thanks to her.

My *mother – in – law,* is a retired headmistress of a Government school. I am fortunate to have her in my life. She was awarded the best teacher award. She harvests the simple things in life, nourishing pure minds with a golden heart that beats for her loved ones. She is a hardworker and dedicated teacher supporting her family in every way. Doing household chores with her job was a difficult thing that she achieved gracefully with a smile.

Her pleasant aura makes a bond of love with everyone and creates a positivity in the surroundings.

Both beautiful ladies are inspirational and example of true beauty in my life.

She adores me, as I continue to be in her profession, i.e. a Teacher. I am grateful for this and I proved to be one of those few fortunate individuals with two moms who get love unconditionally with all my flaws and faults. Their strengths and beauty and love has made me who I am today.

Being a teacher I intend to share my pearls of wisdom with the young ones, inspiring them to live a life of love and courage never bogged down by life’s challenges, take time out to celebrate “YOU” because you are the most beautiful creature on this EARTH.

When I care for them, teach them I feel a completeness. I thank God sometimes for giving me a beautiful soul inside to nurture and give others and feel content.

Giving to the society selflessly is another way of being beautiful heartily!

When I googled the meaning of beauty it showed the result as a combination of qualities such as shape, colour or form that pleases the aesthetic sense, specially the sight.

But is looking physically attractive enough to accept someone as beautiful?

A fair, pretty, tall lady with willowy hair, having a great figure with whole make up, eye lashes, high heels and gown look. Is that all what beautiful means?

A woman is beautiful when she chases her passions, shows compassion with all her intelligence and with a fun loving spirit. She keeps a sense of adventure, never giving up to ebb and fear having tons of confidence to ignite and spark everything around her.

These days, beautiful for teenagers means taking selfies, making pouts, filtering them every minute and unloading them on social sites to collect likes and comments. They measure their self worth and grade themselves accordingly. Hundred of “likes” on a picture would make them blush, whereas no like would demoralise them to the pits.

In the long run this behaviour is probably unhealthy and it would have an adverse impact.

Some woman cherish their looks every moment. If they find a blemish or wrinkle or a flaw it creates a panic situation and they knock the doors of a good plastic surgeon or a dietician or a workout guru.

True Beauty doesn’t come from looking at the mirror with a lipstick tube or a mascara wand or a blush brush , BEAUTY comes from looking deep inside oneself and their heart

External appearance is for the time being. Inner beauty of a person counts more with growing age.

Don’t get bamboozled by the society’s impression of what a woman should look like. Being beautiful includes well equipped with knowledge. It includes having a good personality as well as having great spirituality.

Walk gracefully with a smile and confidence.

Treat yourself like a queen. Find a reason to fall in love with yourself everyday, admire yourself. You are valuable. You are lovely. Feel it, fondle it, kiss it, frolick in it. Every single day – you are Awesome! You are beautiful!

Love You Forever

A have spent my entire life of four decades at this place. I would have been somewhere else before coming here but now I have very foggy memories of that time. I only remember the time I have spent here. In the beginning I was alone. For the first decade or so I did not pay much attention to anyone else. I was new and stubborn and being philosophical. I must also say that I was a snob. And then she came. I do not recollect exactly the time, but it must have been about 15 years or so after I had arrived. By then, I started having a feeling that there were few takers for me – being big, bulky and boring. I noticed her immediately, as she came to live next door. She was unlike me in every way. She was slim, beautiful and romantic. Oh her eyelids! When she fluttered those, my heart melted. I never knew such feelings and things existed before I saw her. Over the next days and months, I watched her steadily. She had enamoured me. I wanted her to notice me too. But I didn’t know how? In any case what she can find interesting in me? I guess she noticed me for the first time a full three months after she had come to live next door. Our eyes met and she gave me a piercing look with her cool blue eyes. I froze. After a few days, I noticed that she also had started fancying me. Many times in the day I caught her stealing glances at me. Being so savvy and hot, needless to say, she was very popular. Frequently, she was going out. I used to envy the people who used to take her out. I wished, I too could be with her. I too wanted her company. To be able to look at her and smell her fragrance. I thought that day would never come. But finally, it did. It took four decades but the day came when my wishes came true. This is the story. My story and hers. And of our love. But it is no ordinary story and might sound confusing to most humans. So I must start at the beginning and tell you all in detail.

I am a book. My name is Story of Philosophy. I was written by the great American Philosopher of the twentieth century, Will Durant. I am a very famous book but few people have dared to read me. As I am a bulky book on a difficult topic, people usually buy me to keep in their bookshelves rather than to read me. My present form is black leather bound with golden letters. I live in the massive David Sassoon Library at Pune, in a huge oak-wood bookshelf marked P for Philosophy.

Since I came here from the bookshop, 40 years ago, a few people have issued me out. But very few have read me. My first reader was a middle-aged man. He wore a thick black spectacles. He chain smoked cigarettes, blowing the smoke on to my pages. He was a fast reader and perhaps an intellectual, because he finished reading me in three days. Then, there was this young buxom lady who used to wear eau de cologne. She took longer, about a month to finish reading me. Of late, very few people have bothered to look me up. Invariably, I lay ensconced in my book rack labelled ‘P’. Right across my bookrack, is another one. The sun shines on it even in winter. ‘R’ for Romance, is its label. I used to look down upon the book rack and its constituents as frivolous. After all, how serious can Romance be? That was until she came. She was “Love Story” by Erich Segal.

She was unlike me in all respects. Instead of being leather-bound with golden letters, she was in a bright pink paperback. She shined even more as sunlight fell onto her jacket. She was issued out much more frequently than I was. People thoroughly read her and enjoyed her much more than they would ever do to me. I was smitten by her on the first day she was brought and placed in the rack opposite mine. And over a period of time, it turned into love. I used to chat with her across the book racks after the closing hours of the library – as books often do. She used to intently listen to me with open-eyed wonder and in return she read her own story to me. Over the last 30 years or so since she had come I had heard her story at least a thousand times. Yet, I yearned to hear it again and again. I fell even more deeply in love with her after each rendition. I wished to be with her, on her rack, beside her. I wanted to smell her aroma – which is unique to every book – and is revealed to one only when he is deeply in love with that book. I wondered if she would want to relish my aroma. If she would smell me, would she get the odd smell of cigarette smoke and eau de cologne? I wondered if she would like my aroma.

After speaking to her for many I years, one day I finally opened my heart and confessed my love to her. She laughed out loud, her already pink jacket turned even pinker by her blushing. She asked me what took me so long to say it? I told her that I was afraid that I would be rejected. After all, there is nothing common between the two of us. To this, she quoted from her story, “I was afraid of being rejected, yes. I was also afraid of being accepted for the wrong reasons.” And I agreed. Hastily, she added, that of course, she was accepting me for the right reasons! I asked her, what were those. She looked me straight in the eye and smiled. “I like your body”, she said. Another of those fantastic quotes from her story! But alas our love was to be platonic. Unlike humans, we could not hop, jump or even walk. So we were reduced to watching each other from a (human) arm’s length and chatting after the library closed.

Till one day last autumn.

Two youngsters landed up at the library. The boy picked me up from my shelf. Although I am calling him a boy, he was more of a man with boyish looks. He was a quick reader, although not a gentle one. I gathered that he was doing a major in philosophy in a postgraduate programme. The girl, again more of a woman but with the charms of a girl, picked up “Love Story”. Instead of issuing out the books. They sat on the reading table and delved into their respective books. It seemed that both were in a hurry to read and finish. They kept on reading way past the closing time. The librarian must have forgotten about them. He closed the library leaving these two readers locked inside. They were oblivious to this. For the first time in years, I was near my love. Still a bit far but much nearer than when we were on the shelves. I started talking to her in our book language which humans perceive only as a faint rustle. We were discussing our respective readers. We talked about their qualities such as reading speeds, pauses and focus. After a long while, the boy finally spoke. He said, “Amita, it is quite late now, I guess we should leave”. Amita nodded and they started walking towards the exit, leaving us open on the reading table. Soon they realised they had been locked inside! It was time for Amita to panic! The boy (whose name was Rahul – I later learnt) assuaged her. But the girl was panicky. She was even refusing to sit down. After a while, Rahul finally convinced her to calm down a little and they sat down on the carpet on the floor.

Meanwhile, Rahul had picked both the books and was keeping them in his hands. This was the first time I was in touch with “Love Story”. It felt nice to feel her pink paperback cover. A faint fragrance emanated from her reminding me of first rains. I loved it. Rahul and Amita were sitting together on the floor and soon they were chatting. She had calmed down now and was speaking in a normal tone. She picked up her book and Rahul picked me up and both started reading where they had left off. After about half an hour they stopped and looked at each other. They kept us – books – aside. We were both open and on top of each other. Rahul and Amita were holding hands now and Amita had kept her head on Rahul’s shoulders. I too held the hand of my love. In fact, now we were in an embrace – both books were open. She was open on the page which has the description of love-making of the protagonists. Rahul and Amita were now mumbling and I saw Rahul lightly kissing her on the cheeks. And then on her lips. Suddenly they embraced each other. That shook us both the books and we were flung out. We landed some distance away on top of each other. Rahul and Amita were in the throes of passion. I too made hugged the love of my life and whispered – I love you my darling! They were in an unusual haste while leaving. In their haste, they kept us together on another shelf! And thus, our love got consummated and wish of being together came true after 30 years!

#vdayblogtrain

This post is part of the Valentine’s Day blog train hosted by http://www.prernawahi.com and http://www.vartikasdiary.com sponsored by ShilpSa, Kalpavriksha Famrs and Neha from @bloggingmadeeasier
This story is in response to the photo prompt at the beginning of the story.

10ways that help forgetful kids to remember things

Children of the current digital and trendy generation have a tough time – though they are technologically armed, they still have to keep themselves aware or alert every time.

There are too many areas or opportunities, and parents want them to be master of all fields, though they themselves might not be. With a variety of options, sometimes kids are not able to concentrate on one thing.

If your kid is unable to focus on one thing, don’t scold him and there’s nothing wrong with him. It may be possible that he is just forgetful or confused. The most important thing is not to compare with other children or his peers.

Every child is unique in their own way, and with proper time their skills will develop and grow. Forgetfulness is common as it can affect a child’s academic performance and learning skills as well. This is why you need to help your child and strengthen his memory, leaving behind all your agony. It’s not a disease but is a phase, which can be solved with proper guidance, love, and care.

Reasons for Forgetfulness in Kids

There are a few reasons why your child may be forgetting things often.

Have a glance here are few of them:

1. Half Baked Memories.

When we discover a new thing, we might just already know the things. We add up various other pieces of information to it, instead of fabricating information and storing. For example, if we know addition we can add, and learn various new methods to do an addition that we already know since our childhood. Whereas a child will get aware of such things slowly, so he requires time to understand addition first and then the various methods to do it. In this process, the child may forget as addition is totally a new concept for him. Always come to the level of the child, and think before you scold them about their forgetfulness. As children have less consciousness in their memory bank, sorting new information into categories is strenuous for them, which results in forgetfulness. Sometimes they can become blank.

2. Being Absent – minded.

Children are fickle-minded and their level of concentration is half, as compared to adults. It’s a common problem among millions of children these days. Loss of concentration could lead to a serious problem, especially in the classroom. As parents, you can help and nurture your children. Concentration power can be enhanced by simple techniques that will help the child to gain attention and overcome absent-mindedness. For example, when you talk to him, try to find out the cause for absent-mindedness. It could be due to watching a lot of animation on TV, or playing too many games in the backyard. There are always reasons behind a loss in concentration. As parents, you have to diagnose. Develop an interest in the areas where your child is already showing signs of interest. It may help him to explore his interest and he will slowly get motivated. Motivation will lead to better concentration. Sit with them, talk to them and make eye contact while speaking. Pause often while giving instructions and ask them to repeat what you said to ensure that he was listening with concentration. Gradually he will overcome absentminded-ness.

3. Brain Injury

Children who suffers from a severe brain injury may be more forgetful than other children. They may lose parts of muscle, speech, vision hearing etc. Brain injuries can be caused by any trauma or car, bike or bicycle accidents, or can also be caused by a serious fall or while playing some sports. If your child seems to suddenly become forgetful, take him to a doctor to check for a concussion.The use of seat belts while riding vehicles are always advised. Such types of children always require lifelong medical treatment and rehabilitation. Positive reinforcement will encourage the child to strengthen their self esteem and promote their independence.

Tips to Help Your Forgetful Child to Remember More

There are many ways to cure forgetfulness in a child. If you see that your child forgets things that he learned recently, or shows signs of Attention Deficit Hyperkinetic Disorder (ADHD) such as unable to maintain attention, here’s what you can do:

1. Calm and sound atmosphere.

Provide your child with a soothing and calm atmosphere to study, rather than a crowded place. If a child can get good concentration, he can remember better. Try and be with them when they need you. When you take interest in them, you will gradually see they will start concentrating and remembering stuff.

2. Counting Game

Give him 10 things to count and ask him to remember and tell you all those things that you have given. For example, if your child learns 10 new vocabulary words in a day, you can ask your child to repeat those words in the sequence you have given, or further you can ask them to write down or classify them according to noun or verb.

3. Avoid rote learning

Instead of asking him to memorise and do rote learning, first, explain the concept to them. If they need to understand the concept of osmosis, make him observe a glass of water and potato over 2-3 days, practically doing hands-on activities are the best way to teach the child in a faster way. If he needs to do remember equations, help him to learn it with tricks, then it will be easier for them and will become a lifelong memory.

4. Practice Make A man perfect.

A good tip to help a forgetful child is to help him practice, practice and lots of practice. They can remember it if they can get a quick glance of the stuff a day before the real test. For example, a mock examination conducted before final examination is a practice for all children, or a run-through before a gala event will give them an experience before final event and they can do better by overcoming mistakes. With enough practice, children will be able to remember things without difficulties. With more and more of practice, they can overcome their difficulties in various spheres and gain confidence.

5. Praise more than you criticize

Praises are always luscious. Understand the power of PRAISE. Whenever the child is drifting to their own imaginary world let them be, and don’t punish rather understand them. Criticizing unnecessary may lead to aggravating the existing issue.

6. Give Rewards

Viola! You did it. Reward them when they show better signs of improvements in concentration. Honour them and they will respond positively.

7.Best Ambience

Provide your child with a calm and quiet environment. Give them invaluable tips to get good marks or to be among the top 10 students in a class. Sit with them while they study, watch them do or follow your tips. Cajole your child.

8.Games that develops concentration

Chess, Scrabbles,Story Telling, any creative activity like Dance , Drama, Art or music, missing number games and games associated with logic or memories can develop your child’s concentration power.

Every child copy their parents, trace out problems that are affecting their memory, find out solutions for the problems, nuture and love all these innocent children unconditionally they are god gifted creatures on Earth. We should take care of them.

9. Seek help.

If you see that despite all efforts the child is unable to retain even basic information of the classroom and is always behind his peers, it is time to seek professional help. It is possible that the child may have a learning disorder. Even dyslexia can lead to difficulty in memorizing. It is important to recognize the learning disorder early and take corrective action.

10.Visualization

When things can be seen while teaching it creates a deeper impact. A slow learner gets more support from visual aids. Learning by doing creates an impression in mind and the child remember things easily, and in recent years, smart boards have been introduced and gradually various new technologies are coming up to meet new challenges.

I’m a Homemaker!!

“Mummy! Is my lunch ready?” Riddhima asked. “Yes, Darling! Just five minutes!” Anita hurriedly put a phulka on hot tawa and sneaked through the dining room. There was her son, Rohit, standing in front of her. “Mumma, Is my lunch ready?” He asked hastily.

Sudhir was moving hurriedly around the room looking for his socks. He stopped abruptly and looked at Anita. “Where the hell are my things?”

“Let me search, Sudhir. Last night you might have left the socks under the sofa.” Anita put off the gas stove and briskly ran into the other room to get a fresh pair of socks for him.

“What is this mumma? You just have to prepare our tiffin and you delay that too! I get late every day because of you!” Rohit howled.

“Just give me two minutes beta!” Anita quickly started packing all the tiffins. She whirled around the house like an automaton. Sudhir commented, “This is an everyday story in this house. Come on Rohit! I will drop you to the school. I am also getting late!”

Anita raised her eyebrows, gazing at both of them. Then, Riddhima came out of nowhere and hugged her! “Mom! I love you!” She whispered in her ears and moved back in a rush.

There was a momentary pause while Anita stood petrified, helpless. She was silently cursing herself at that moment. She started winding up everything in the kitchen as she had to pay the electricity bills. Unless she reached early the queue would be winding down the road till the dairy booth. And that will take at least another half an hour just to reach the counter.

But first, she had to relax, if only for a moment. She turned up the radio and listened to a station that played old Bollywood songs. She sat mulling over the chaos that ensued this morning and every morning. Then she took a deep breath and sipped her tepid tea. She picked herself up, cleaned the house quickly and went to pay the bill, in a gloomy mood.

On her way back from the electricity office she remembered that Rohit had managed to rip his school trousers. She went back home, picked up the torn trousers and gave it to the tailor for darning. Coming back again she picked up grocery and balanced it precariously on her tiny scooty and struggled to get back home finally with all the load. On reaching home, she immediately set out to make lunch. Then washed the clothes. All this while the FM was playing old Bollywood numbers. It was playing “Bade achhe lagte hain…”. On listening to the song, she remembered her college romance with Sudhir. Life was like a dream then. Now it was a hurried chaotic nightmare with no time for each other. There was no longer any love left, only a nagging sense of irritation.

“When things don’t go the way we plan, it is disturbing. Mornings are constrictive like a tightening chest. But I have a profound desire to make my home, a perfect home!” She drifted away to her ocean of thoughts. “Oh! Sometimes its good to embrace the chaos too!”

Phew! And it was already afternoon.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and it broke her reverie. It was Riddhima back from school.

“Ahh! I am so tired Riddhi! Will you please make me a cup of coffee?”

“Sure Mumma! But why do you work so much? I wish Dad and Rohit could understand this too!”

“It’s okay, Riddhi” Anita sighed, “it is a thankless job for every mother!”

“Ah! No Mumma! I love you!” And Riddhi kissed her mother. Later both of them sipped hot steaming coffee.

“Beta, your Nani called up today. She is unwell. I think I should go to meet her and get some checkup done till your Mama (maternal uncle) comes and take over. Tomorrow, I will be leaving. So take care of everything, and help your papa. Otherwise, he will get puzzled! I know him!”

Next day in the kitchen it was chaos all over again, only this time Sudhir was in charge.

“Oh no! There is still a lot of work to be done! My holiday is ruined. Since morning I am in the kitchen and there are other chores pending too. I have to wash clothes, dry them, and then fold them. I don’t remember what more …” Sudhir was mumbling under his breath, slogging things out in the kitchen, in the sweltering heat.

“Dad! Hurry up! I am very hungry!” Rohit yelled.

“Who do you think I am? A machine? How much work can I do simultaneously? I want to wallow in self-pity! I am pissed off!” Sudhir burst out. His tone tinged with irritation.

“Dad! I hope now you can understand how Mumma works!” Riddhima mumbled.

“Yes! Riddhi di is right! I also realised how much Mom works for us! Mumma also works for us like a robot. And she never complains!” chipped in Rohit. He was now ashamed of his previous behaviour.

At night, Anita came back home. She saw how much-exhausted everyone was. She started cleaning the messy house. There was an awkward silence at dinner time.

“Anita! Today I realised your importance. How you work so much for us! And without any complains too! You never say anything when we nag you. You are an all-rounder.Women complete the existence of God’s creation. They know which rules to break and which ones to bend. “

“Thank you, Mumma! We love you” both the children hugged Anita.

The next morning, however, it was altogether a different scene from the previous evening’s bonhomie.

“Mumma make it fast! I am getting late!” Rohit screamed.

“Anita! Where is my towel?” Sudhir shouted from the other end of the house.

“Mumma pack my bags!” Riddhima cried out loudly.

Anita laughed out and ruffled her phulkas hurriedly.

If the weathered walls of the kitchen could talk, they would narrate the same chaos every morning!

No wonder the home is special where mothers like Anita heal and rejuvenate their lives. Not only for themselves but for others too.

Do you think HOMEMAKERS get credit for their job? Homemakers contribute a lot to the economic growth of the country. It’s a 24×7 job. It surely is a thankless job.

It is important to give them their due entitlement. They are the queen of the hearts and the homes!

Scents Of Love!

It was raining heavily. The moon and the stars were nowhere to be seen. It was a dark and gloomy night, filled with rain. The streets were mostly empty. Only once in a while, an odd crappy bike zoomed past. I could hear the sound of raindrops hitting the roof, leaves and windows in a crescendo rhythm. I had always enjoyed the sweet sound and smell of rain. The sweet smell of soil on a bright and warm day, after a night of showers. When I reached to close the windows, I could see an apparition in the dark. There was a girl. Soaked, wet and shivering.

“Meera! What are you doing here?” Vineet huffed as he hurriedly came out of the house.

Her soft face made his heart melt. How could he resist himself from loving her more and more?

“Hi!” Meera turned around to give him a wide beaming smile. Tiny raindrops were kissing her cheeks, her lips, and her eyes. She wiped her face and looked at me. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was divinely beautiful. As beautiful as a goddess.

“Come on girl! Let’s go to my place. It is nearby.” Vineet said in a pleading tone.

“No! I am alright!!” remarked Meera hesitatingly.

“But I can’t leave you alone in this rain! You may catch a bad cold!” Vineet said even as he unknowingly raised his hand as if to protect Meera from the relentless rain.

It was a good feeling, to save her from the falling rain.

I closed my eyes. My head went into a flashback to the first day when I had met Meera. Suddenly, a stunningly beautiful girl entered our chemistry class. I had loved everything about her. But I had kept it deep within myself.

The wind picked up suddenly. I was dumbstruck. I opened my eyes slowly and came back to the present. I was tossing in my ocean of thoughts. There were many unanswered questions. How come she is here? When did she come to Shimla? Why didn’t she call me?

But these questions had to wait awhile. We had dreamt to spend our best time together in each other’s company. But things just didn’t work out. I had least expected to run into her like this – in the middle of a rainstorm.

Now she was in front of me. Like a dream come true. I was lost in her big, beautiful eyes – those were my world once. I looked up at the sky to seek answers to my questions. But I was only hit by the falling rain, battering my face. Nevertheless, I was happy. Everything was glistening as the rain had painted them in fresh dark colours.

“Let us go,” Vineet told Meera. She let him lead her to the next road, where Vineet ran a few steps ahead and unlocked a door to a house.

“Come in and make yourself comfortable.”

“Wipe yourself,” said Vineet handing her a soft dry towel. “Come on Meera! You can tell me everything. We are friends!” Vineet exclaimed.

“No Vineet, its alright” Meera replied gloomily. She wiped herself and sat on a couch near to the fireplace. “Thanks!” She replied. “Show me the kitchen. I want some warm water. I will fetch it for you too if you want some”.

Vineet smiled and replied, “Make some tea as well when you are warming up the water.” He switched on the light and led her to the kitchen.

She felt a strong sense of jamais vu – a strange feeling of familiarity in the kitchen.

She made a strong cup of tea for both of them.

The odour of burning wood in the fireplace triggered several long lost memories in my mind. Years back we used to hang around in our college days. She always ended up making a hot cup of chai and toasted marshmallows, in the fire, while recounting endless spooky tales.

I was looking at her overwhelmed with these memories, as she arranged the cups of tea in the tray and served it. She came to me and sat in front of me. I gazed at the flames dancing in the fireplace.

I caught a glimpse of her sipping tea and with the curiosity killing me, I blurted out, “How come you are in Shimla?”

“My aunt lives here!” She replied. Sometimes during my vacation, I make a short trip to give her company. She is all alone after the death of my uncle. She is brave enough to handle my uncle’s transport business all by herself.

“So we had been now living apart for three years. What about your studies?” Vineet said, “It’s fine, almost over, the internship is left”. Meera responded. A long uneasy silence separated us.

Everything was still. It seemed the room had become warm. It filled with Meera’s heartbeat as it answered mine. Her breath whispered her love for me as I exhaled mine in return. Her face had a shining glow reflected from the burning fireplace.

Suddenly, I jumped, offered my hand to her and exclaimed, “Let’s dance!” She smiled and that made my heart skip a beat.

My stomach had a million butterflies fluttering. A piece of soft lilting music filled the room as we started dancing.

She surrendered herself to my arms. I could feel her hard breathing against my chest. I thanked God. She is mine. Still…

Meera came closer to me. I took both her hands into mine and slowly made the dance moves. As the flames danced too, the warmth of the room made us cosy. She moved her hands and placed them around me as I gently held her waist.

“Well this is good! Isn’t it?” I winked and smiled tenderly at her. Meera blushed as her white cheeks became flushed pink. I pulled her towards me from her waist.

It was like two beautiful souls in love while the rain lashed outside. It was a vision of dark grey blurry sky outside the windows. The tipping sound of the rain. The world might not have existed now. I wished the time to stand still – in a moment of pure bliss. We moved around and I gently felt wet tears on my shoulder. The tears were for the years we were apart. Her eyes mutely told the endless tales of lonely days and nights we had spent away from each other. A lone tear rolled down her cheek. I brought my lips close to her cheeks and kissed away the tear.

She closed her eyes as I pulled her closer. My lips gently touched hers. I loved her smell of soft perfume and wet body. And in that moment we kissed deeply and passionately. I pinned her against the wall and pressed my body against hers as she tightly hugged me. We kissed for long – almost an eternity.

The sky, the clouds, the moon, the stars, the rain, the night – all ceased to exist. A loud cacophonic sound suddenly sprang near me.

I opened my eyes flabbergasted.

Ohh! It was a dream! The sun had risen up in the sky outside the window. It was bright warm sunshine and there were not a speck of clouds in the sky. I grabbed my phone and snoozed the alarm. Meera’s face flashed on the screensaver. I scrolled to her number to WhatsApp her about my vivid dream. “Yeello a–aa—h baby I love you!” A sleepy baby voice of Meera mumbled on the voice message!