Alone stood the lady in white, in the right corner of the room. Her companions, standing no longer by her side, ‘cause she was the truth, that no one cared to hear.

The truth they found fearful, some even found it hateful. For what they claimed to be the truth, was often not her word of truth, which they found rather distasteful .

She labelled what she knew, called them out as the truth, which they tried to coat with silver and gold, making colourful her drab white, making it more palatable.

On the other side stood, the lady in scarlet, one most beautiful and fashionable .Her hair a fiery red, her lips a rosebud pout, her eyes filled with deceit, as she spouted words very different. Though not sincere nor true, yet they fell on ears most receptive and friends she had many.

Promises she made, with embellishments, reality she changed making it more presentable more acceptable. People around, though confused, chose to believe the one who was, favoured by the multitude,

The lady in white, a helpless spectator, as she watched the decline of society. Finally rising from her apathy. casting aside her reticence she strode to the centre, pleading silently. She strove to shed her light, unmask the evil, but was no match for her strident opponent .

In her voice, that was less heard and unpopular, she raised the alarm tried to warn them, but to no avail, for she was ignored. Sadly she watched as the people, followed the dishonest one, to their bitter end , to their destruction.

Yet, persistent she was ! With tenacity, she endeavoured, to discredit the flamboyant one. Slowly removing the colour, peeling the layers, she finally exposed the ugly face beneath. The decadence , the dissembling, the deception that plagued society. But was it much too late, was the transgression beyond redemption? Did the truth finally set them free ? But no one knew or cared .

A voice for the legends, a voice of a thousand years, brought to us by the nightingale, our beloved Latha Mangeshkar, silenced today. A voice that will be forever, etched in memory, etched in our hearts for life .

At the tender age of thirteen, you started singing, entertaining, with a voice that was of not this world. Bringing the divine to mankind ,soothing the deprived, elevating the spirit of the suffering humanity.

It is with a heavy heart, that we bid farewell,to the Queen of melody, to the voice of the angels. She who sang, like a songbird, that never was and never will be. Until we hear that melody again, in this life or the next, we bid adieu

Though you are gone, your music will live on, for generations and generations. Your songs, forever resplendent, with the beauty of your voice, will remain, unerased by time .

It’s been a long week, since that fateful day, The pain not any less, the memories crowding in. The pitter patter of your feet,we still hear, find your golden strands clinging, to every surface in the room. The swish of your tail, we feel like a tremble, our ears we strain to hear that woof, and wait for you to walk through the door. But your empty collar and the empty bowls, remind us you will never return .

Looking back, you were aware, that the end was at hand . You said your goodbyes, but we, failed to recognise the signs. Friday night, you just lay down, submitting to the Will of the Universe. Your systems shutting, one by one, and you just wanted the comfort of our presence .

We your family, the rationals, refused to accept such an abrupt end. Carrying you from one hospice to the next, sure we could avert the worst, but in vain. At best, we just prolonged your agony and took away from our last moments together . If only we could rewind time, and do things differently.

In hindsight, we fell far short. Too selfish and obtuse, to understand ,your selfless love and life. In retrospect, we reflect with a heavy heart, on the many occasions we were too busy, putting your needs, second to ours. But that didn’t in anyway, make a difference to your faithful devotion. For you darling Max, came into our lives, to teach us about love, loyalty, humility and your spirit will always remain with us .

How much longer, how much more suffering, before we learn the simple truths ? That life is a fragile gift and each moment is precious. Not to be careless, especially with those who love us the most. Not to procrastinate, or leave undone that which needs to be done. And when will regret and remorse, stop being our companions ?

Cursed be the day when you have to say goodbye to your very best friend. Pray the day never dawns, that takes away the light of your life. Though we know we cannot avoid the grief of such goodbyes, yet we crave for a furry friend, always in our lives.

It was a day, fraught with troubles, with curfews and restrictions, that our dearest friend, Max, left us for his heavenly abode, taking with him the light, though the sun shone bright. Leaving behind, his family of four, shattered and longing for his comforting hug, one last time.

He came into our lives, when he was just a wee young ‘un . Never very demanding, always compliant, he quickly worked his way, into our hearts. With no bone of animosity, he greeted everyone with a smile. Even the worst skeptic, was soon under his spell and all declared, he was most handsome.

Hurtling down the stairs each morning, to reach the bottom first, was a little game I had, with my canine friend. Dancing around for his first snack, his furry face split wide as he grinned, when I complied. To witness that delight, made the start of each new day, perfect. Lying at my feet, he seemed to know my joys, sorrows. And when he rested his face in my lap, there was no worry he couldn’t drown.

With the passing years, he aged as did I, yet he dragged himself, to follow me around. Always close at hand, he dreaded being left alone. but today I wonder where he is, after our last goodbye. It was heart wrenching to watch him, leave on his own. But I take comfort in knowing, he will greet me in heaven.

Never.setting store by his own likes and dislikes, his love for us was unconditional. Each one’s eccentricities he understood and accepted. Never expecting anything in return, he loved us, more than we loved ourselves. Our constant companion he was, every day and every night, for the past eleven years ,

I am most grateful for his life, a life that brought joy and comfort, to our little family. An honour it was to have known, a soul so noble, so bright. God accept this angel, who You lent to us, awhile.

Dedicated to our dearest Max, who left us on the 9 th of January 2022

The Festivities are over, it is the days after Christmas and New Year. Guests have dispersed, holidays are over and children back to school , Recouping after the month long frenzy, everyone is returning to the old routine.

The magic is fading. The tree is sagging, drooping under the weight of the ornaments. The once tall green now a dusty brown, and shrinking with each passing Christmas. The shiny silver star atop ,tarnished and grey, the white angel, with broken wings, still hanging up there .

The fairy lights, no longer bright, have lost their sparkle over the years. Shining intermittently, their sequence, now slow and weary. The Nativity scene askew, with the shepherd missing and the sheep astray. No more presents at the bottom of the tree, leaving an empty space .

And yet every Christmas, they come out of their box, to fill our homes with gaiety, to remind us, of the times gone by. The times when laughter was easy, and we didn’t need an occasion, to dance all night .

The times when the list was long for greeting cards and wishes . The tireless shopping for presents, for every generation. A time when, the dining table was too small, for the family Christmas lunch, when chairs were added for additional seating .

With the passing years, we who once stood tall, grow old and frail. We have gained from enriching moments, left broken by the deleterious ones. Burdens we carry, some from attachment, others, thrust upon us by circumstances. Our family, diminishing in size, the circle of friends, small enough to span with our hands .

The year 2021, was by far the most brutal. The first half in the fearful grip of the plague, and the latter, enduring inclement weather. Many of us lost loved ones and friends, laying them to rest in our hearts. Now there are fewer members to greet, and empty chairs around the table .

We start this New Year with the hope, of all good things waiting for us . Our resilient spirit, not giving up, we continue to dream, not of success or assets , but a life filled with family and friends, and a home filled with laughter.

Come December, it is Christmas, the season of good cheer and warm feelings. Days of sun shine and the nights, oh so chilly! The last month of the year, full of celebration, poised to welcome the new year and new beginnings. But for some it is, just another month, the end of a trying year, with only troubles ahead .

Like never before was the monsoon this year! The sky always overcast, a bleak grey, bursting into storms and the earth shuddering in the deluge. The sun playing truant, rarely seen, hiding his face from the devastation. There was no reprieve for man or beast, as the rains lashed continually.

Floods and landslides, in the news everyday, homes washed away and watery graves for many. With the trees tossing and toppling, little birds found no place to rest. Their tweets turning to squawks of fear, each time they fall from their nests. The creeping crawlers, their shelters lost, are exposed and bewildered, as they wander, amongst human beings.

The plant life, that ordinarily thrive in rainfall, are inundated, submerged under water. With no sunshine, no relief, the overspill is destroying our crops. Fruits and salads a rarity, as we face scarcity and soaring prices. Why even the inexpensive tomato, whether fruit or vegetable, debatable, much like the current gender crisis, crossed the hundred rupee mark. And, with no timely harvest of coffee berries, the daily brew, may soon leave our shelves.

The houses, our refuge, stand creaking, under the onslaught of the constant downpour. Even the strong have yielded, sprung leaks. Their once shiny paint blistered, and with mould everywhere, they wear a woebegone face. The doors and windows, warped and distorted, are none too easy to latch and the damaged plumbing and power lines are, at best, sketchy .

Global warming and climate change, they say. An apocalyptic sword, hanging over our heads, waiting to drop if not controlled. For some, an imminent threat of extinction, the end of the world and humanity. While for others, an inconvenience, a threat to compromise their lifestyle.

Then it is December, it is Christmas! The earth shrugged, shed her gloom, welcoming the errant sun, now shining bright. The rot began to fade, the green is here to stay, fresh grass beneath our feet. Bringing hope anew and heralding a prosperous new year.

In my little garden, the flowers are in bloom, again. A Christmas bouquet, the light and scent of good tidings from Heaven . The deep colours of love, the vibrant colours of joy, the gentle colours of peace, of goodwill, and the warm colours of hope. A Christmas bouquet indeed, red, gold and green, with its promise of blessings to come. And I know I can believe in a better tomorrow, for you and for me .

It was a beautiful day, it was the much awaited class reunion. For all of two years with COVID restrictions, such meetings had been kept at bay. After much discussion and deliberation,it was decided we meet at our alma mater. The necessary permissions were sought and granted, so we came together, to meet at the school gates, once again. Standing there, the memories they came a flooding, the years slipped away and we were sixteen again.

Walking sedately, our steps effortlessly covering the distance of the once long drive, we were reminded of our school days, as if it were yesterday. We saw our young faces racing by, our braids and ribbons flying, as we ran up the drive, with seconds to spare, before the final bell. There stood Sister Vaune, glowering, taking note of the stragglers. Frowning at the fashionably shortened skirts, her scathing remark, “it is like being in thigh-land” rang in our ears . With a sense of pride we recalled, our assembly the singing and prayers, followed by the word for the day.

We recollected dispersing noisily, scrambling, and bounding up the stairs, very often two at a time, before we reached our classrooms, to settle down , under the watchful eyes of the class teacher .The day dragging on slowly, until it was snack break when we collected our small cache of coins, to dash to the Tuck Shop, to wait in line for those delicious samosas and the brown candy .The fifteen minutes always passed too quickly, and back to class we went, reluctantly.

Walking through the games field , which has changed much, we reminisced about Mrs. Rodrigues and the hour of physical fitness, which had us arguing about which House was the best. Sandwiched between the sciences and languages, the games period was, for some a rigorous work out, and for others, just a break from the rigours of learning.

The lunch pavilion, brought memories of the supervised lunch break we had. Chatting with one another, sharing our boxes, the half hour was a boisterous affair and went too swiftly. When done , back to our classrooms we went, dragging our feet, none too enthusiastic about the history or geography classes. We sat through the afternoon session, waiting for freedom bell .

And when that bell finally rang , we were running and jostling, hurtling down the stairs, hollering and shouting, some even sliding down the bannisters, as we sped home. Those scenes filled our minds, it was like yesterday once again . Until we tried to straddle that railing, and realised time had gone by – all of 45 years and we are no longer sixteen.

Oh my soul, what do you seek, why do you feel incomplete, a stranger in this world, indifferent to this life ? Why are you discontent, even when Lady Luck favours you, why are you filled with disquiet, even when surrounded by quietude? From where comes this restlessness, what causes this yearning for the unknown ?Why do you feel so empty within, what do you search for, so ardently,? Is it the way back home ?

Do you long to scale lofty mountains ,to be a companion to the lonely peaks, to view the world from a pinnacle? Do you desire to run down grassy slopes, crave to dance with the fleet footed gazelle? Do you wish to dive in the ocean, to ride the waves, to swim with the whales, to cavort with the playful dolphins?

Is it the call of the wild that beckons? The roar of the hungry lion, as he paces in his lair, the soulful cry of the swooping eagle, looking for its mate, the trumpeting of the elephant herd, as they trample new paths in the jungle? Is it the howl of the nocturnal wolves, stalking their unsuspecting prey, or the hoot of the solemn owl, as she nods sagely ?

What do you search for my soul ? Are you the sacred spirit of the trees , the tall cedars that touch the sky, the shady banyan trees, or of the rustling wind, that gently caresses the leaves, and at times blows like a squally storm ? Do you long to fly on angel wings, to touch the heavens, to be one with the stars? What causes a flutter in your heart, like a bird caught in a fowler’s net ?

Are you a speck of the Universe, trapped in a transient body, a body that will one day, decay and turn to dust? You who carry the memories of ages, the truth of the time to come, living in a concrete jungle, oppressed and repressed, you see nothing but futility, in the daily materialistic marathon.

Though you long to be released, this gift of life you try to embrace. Wandering the earth, searching for love, joy and peace, the words that were whispered to your being, even before you took birth . Looking to find that heavenly bliss which can never be, you live on aimlessly in this sullied world, until the day you return to your Maker, to eternity .

None is equal, all are equal, a great contradiction to grapple with . Many a war fought, many a life lost, in the fight for equality, which is but a myth .

The rich they get richer and the poor get poorer. As is the age old axiom, to the one who has more, much will be given, and from the one who has less, everything will be taken away . With no escape, no way to bridge the gap, no way to close the ever increasing divide, equality remains a myth.

At family functions and events, affluent members are always assigned, the most coveted seats. While the less privileged are relegated to the back to languish in obscurity. And woe be to those who flout the rules, for though from the same family, not all are considered equal.

In social circles,never is everyone equal. Some are viewed less equal than others. Be it for an alliance or friendships, which are nurtured only amongst equals. In every group there is sure to be, the popular and the not so, Depending on their social standing. the one at the top will be ahead, until someone new comes along, one more prosperous.

The constitution states equality for all, barring caste, creed and religion. But when it comes to exercising rights, lo and behold , it is the mighty that wins. The ones with more wealth and connections, can bend the rules change the laws, trampling on the privilege of others.

So where does that leave us? Being neither at the top nor the bottom, neither equal nor inferior, sandwiched between the haves and the have nots, we live. Our liberty we exercise sparingly, our opinions we voice timidly, our rights we claim indifferently, bound by a crippling society of inequality.

Are we not guilty of prejudice and preferences ? Do we not, though proclaiming equality, seek to align ourselves with the powerful, make friends with the more influential? Are we not partial to the like minded, seldom making the effort to include, those who are different, those lesser than us?

Do we not have favourites, amongst our own children? Even the Almighty, favours some more than others and does not Lady Luck smile, only upon a choice few ? So who are we to condemn and who do we condemn? Why do we chase after equality, which is but a myth ?

The day had dawned finally, it was the picnic, the excursion, the much awaited outing, for the ladies, confined to our homes, for nearly two years, during COVID restrictions.

Waking up bright and early, brimming with excitement, we set out to enjoy the day. Starting out at eight, we congregated for breakfast, at an eatery, famed for its dosas, idli vada, and filter coffee .

Meeting each other, after the long break, was like a spring of water,to the soul that was parched. Throwing caution to the wind,we hugged and kissed, not fearing any disastrous consequence, nor did we worry about maintaining the protocol, reinforced daily, through radio jingles and ringtones,

Every dear face we laid eyes on, with love and fondness. Recognising each one’s mannerisms, the quirk of their lips, the twist of their brows, the sound of their voice and hand gestures, all so familiar, even after the long lapse of time.

At Spring Valley, our final destination, all preparation was crafted by our dear and efficient friend. Playing games and singing songs. walking around enjoying nature and the outdoors, followed by lunch and tea, filled with mouthwatering food, the day went by much too quickly.

With a laden heart, we bid goodbye, promising to meet again soon. Leaving behind a small part of us, we returned home, back to our responsibilities, filing away those precious moments, memories to cherish,to relive, each time we feel lost or lonely.