Joy in the little things of Life!!

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Potter, Writer, Blogger, Quiller, Avid Reader, Chatter Box, Traveller, Foodie, photo crazy, Orchid lover, FB addict, and an enthusiast.... I work on extremes... You'll either find me laughing insanely or discussing something seriously serious.... I suffer from a laughter disorder...I am a lover of arts and crafts and anything that's colorful, bright and beautiful which includes my plants and my little lovely birdies... I am a mad friend, an insane daughter, a crazy wife and an unconventional sister... I choose to love, laugh and live!! My smile is contagious....So be careful :)

Monday, January 5, 2015

The Epic Tale of - “Vow of Silence”

A daily ritual of calling up my mother on my way to work is an essential part of my life. I have been religiously following it since the time wedding bells rang and I moved out from home to make a nest of my own. (For my ranting on how terrible this transition has been for me, please read my blog here). However, off late my ritual has been interrupted by a new ritual that Mom has initiated. I am not allowed to call up Mom on Mondays. Of course you may ask me why? It is because Mom observes “Maun Vrat” or “Vow of Silence” on Mondays. Too difficult to accept? I can empathize, considering that Mom and I have been known in our family for our nonstop chit chats and conversations. She has been doing it for about a year now and quite successfully too. Steadily she has been subtly pushing me to do it as well.

Conversation few days ago:
K: I cannot do it on Mondays, Maa?
Maa: Then do it on a weekend.
K: But then who will instruct my cook? Who will ask my domestic help to clean that cobweb housing my home for months?
Maa: Then it on a Sunday when your domestic help is not around. Works?
K: Alright. Does it help?
Maa: Immensely. It helps you calm down. Try it once and see for yourself.
K: ok (reluctantly).
So this weekend I announced to hubby darling that I shall be observing a Maun Vrat on Sunday and that he has to support me.
“What a drama queen you are, K!” R commented while watching a movie.
I scowled and he finally agreed to it though reluctantly.
Sunday arrived and thus began the “Epic Tale of Maun Vrat”.

 I gestured asking R what he wants for breakfast. He gestured back. He first drew a plate in the air and then started making several circles while holding an imaginary spoon in hand. After which he took an imaginary bite from the circle and licked his finger. The look on his face was priceless.
Of course it took me about 30 seconds to compose myself because I was observing Maun Vrat, he wasn’t. He could SPEAK.
I smiled sheepishly. I wrote D.O.S.A. in the air and he replied with thumbs up. Obviously it was Sunday and he wanted to eat “Dosa”.
I got in to the kitchen and the preparations began. Dosa was ready and was served piping hot to Mr. Husband. He gestured me to sit next to him and we relished hot yummeh dosas. Just as I was about to clear the table Mr. R gestured again. This time he drew two glasses in the air and took an imaginary sip.
Frustrated but masking it with a smile, I wrote again in the air, “C.H.A.I.? He obviously responded with another thumbs up again and a naughty smile spread across his otherwise childlike face.

The breakfast was over and the customary book reading session commenced, albeit silently. I took my kindle and found myself curled up comfortably on the sofa. R took to the dewan with his book. Few seconds later I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up and saw Mr. R standing with his book looking at me with his typical smile.

R: Pushing himself next to me on the sofa.
Me: perplexed.
R: writing on a piece of paper – It is 11:00 am, can we be done with this Maun Vrat, now?
Me: writing - We?
R: writing - Yeah, it is pretty boring. Making a sad face.
Me: writing - Why are you writing? You can talk. You are not fasting, are you?
R: Writing again. Oh! I forgot. Tee Hee Hee
Me: writing - Okay R. Speak up.
R: Writing again – what are we having for lunch?
Me: writing - For God’s sake, speak up. I can barely understand your handwriting and your gestures.
R: Writing again - Oh! But you understood that I wanted to have Dosa, right? And this writing convo is also going well. (Smiling again with twinkling eyes)
Me: writing - I am not talking.
R: writing - Shall I cook, today?
Me: writing - Please… go ahead.
R: writing - Okay

R left me alone with Jodi Picoult and walked in the kitchen. I felt a sense of relief and buried myself in the book again. Few seconds later I saw from the rim of the kindle that R was frantically looking for something.

Me: Clapping to get his attention.
R: walking towards me and gesturing. He started drawing tiny little circles in the air. The circles were so tiny that I had to shrink my eyes to comprehend their size. He drew at least 20 of them.
Me: I couldn’t fathom anything. I looked at him puzzled and anxious.
R: Erasing the imaginary circles in the air. He then drew a cylindrical shaped object on one side and plate like object on the other side.
By the end of this drawing session my patience had given up, finally.

What do you want, R? I asked composing myself and throwing my “Vow of Silence” in the imaginary bin.
R: Haaah! I wanted to hear your voice. Seeee, how it resonates in the house. Thank you. (Hugging me like a cuddly teddy bear)
Me: smiling. You are insane. By the way what were you drawing? What were those tiny circles?
R: Oh! You couldn’t understand it? It was Dal(lentils), K, he winked.

Yes, I reacted exactly the way you are reacting now while reading this. And apparently the cylindrical object that was being drawn was the “Pressure Cooker”. No, no don’t even ask me the logic. R has defied logic and the laws of physics long ago.

All said and done, I have come to realize that observing silence for a few minutes or a day may help people calm down; however, for me it only pulled my blood pressure up North. :)

Mom doesn’t know about it yet. It is Monday today and I haven’t spoken to her, though I am dying to tell her this “Epic Tale of my Vow of Silence”. 

These are the little joys that make life worth living. Aren’t they?

I am still smiling as I write this.

Have you ever been able to successfully complete a "Vow of Silence" aka Maun Vrat? Tell me, I am listening.

Saturday, January 3, 2015


This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 50; the fiftieth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with ​Soulmates: Love without ownership by Vinit K Bansal. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

This post won the Gold Batom at Blog-a-ton 50

 "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you" 
- Maya Angelou

The day of reunion had dawned. He hadn’t seen her for ages. The longing for the warmth of her body hurt his soul. His lips parched for her gentle kiss. His heart raced like a million horses.

“We are Soul mates, love”, he had once told her while stroking her long locks.

She had responded by planting a passionate kiss on his lips. He was so drunk in her love that he couldn't stop himself from revelling in the moment.

He shuffled hurriedly towards the Temple of his love, where he had left her, waiting, forever!

His chest felt heavy. He was guilty. He had walked away silently. Without even looking back.

He hadn’t even given her a reason for breaking her heart. He had broken his promise to her, the promise of gifting her a bed of roses. Instead, he had rewarded her undying love with a bed of thorns. Nevertheless, today, he had broken free. He had finally mustered the courage to go against one and all. He had decided to wipe out the painful times of yore and rewrite  their story into a beautiful one, He knew that their meeting was going to be thorny. He anticipated her wrath. Hell, yes, he deserved it too.

"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name"
 - Andre Breton

He reached and saw that she was standing there, exactly where he had left her, at the crossroads of life, though she looked aberrant. Once, she had strikingly beautiful eyes, cherry colored lips, an innocent face, lustrous locks, soft arms, and a smooth skin. All that was gone now. But, it was still her. Oh yes!

She saw him walking towards her. Blood slowly rolled down her cheeks. He knew her heart was weeping. He knelt down beside her and silently begged for forgiveness. She stood still,

“I am guilty’, he said, his eyes staring at the mud below her bare feet. ‘I was compelled to do
what I did. I was helpless. I became a coward. I gave you up, for the happiness of everyone else”, he explained. She was still unmoved.He slowly opened his heart to her. There were scars on it. She saw that his words were true, so, her heart forgave him. The scars in her heart disappeared.

He smiled. But, she didn’t.

She started rubbing her hands over her vulnerable body and started shedding off her skin. She was enduring excruciating pain, but still she didn’t stop.

He could not fathom her actions. Clueless, he asked,“What are you doing?” “I am shedding off the warmth of your hug. It has wrapped my body for too long”, she replied in a hollow voice.

After shedding her skin, she started pouring sullied stream all over her naked body. He looked at her confused. “The alluring smell of your body refuses to leave mine”, she answered, reading his eyes.

She then turned to the tree behind her and plucked the leaves from it. She carefully folded the pungent leaves and chewed them, relishing its taste. The bitterness of the leaves filled and rocked her being.He gazed at her helplessly. “The sweet taste of your kiss has stayed on my tongue too long”, she whispered.

She then wrenched out traces of his love from her soul and strung them bit by bit on the tree. “My soul has long been a prisoner of your love and I am setting  it free now"she announced.

And then, finally, she grabbed a piece of her broken heart and buried it in the ground. “It died a painful death after you left”, she explained, looking at him emptily. And then, her tears stopped rolling. She was now ready, ready to leave.

As she emptied herself, he started feeling the emptiness creeping up into his soul. All the love, her love, that had once filled his existence slowly vanished.

To stop the Goddess of his Temple from leaving, he desperately started unbuttoning his coat. She stopped him with a flick of her hand. 'Do not remove the coat. That coat is my prayer for you. Wear it. It will protect you’, she said and started to leave.

“Are you really going?” he asked frantically, but his voice was unheard by her.

“We are soul mates, aren’t we?” He begged .

“The string of my soul has long been wrecked by your treacherous love”, her voice was unfeeling but her eyes mocked his cowardice.

“Then why did you wait for me for this long?” He screamed, fresh blood flowing through his
eyes now.

“Because.... because I wanted answers…a Closure”, she answered while turning away.

As soon as she turned away, he took off his coat. His body was no more the temple of her love!

He wanted to perish. As soon as the coat fell off his body, her prayer left his soul and he was
burnt to ashes.

“If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.” 
- William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night 
The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 04