Team Blog-o-holics - Week 1 - 6th post - #GameofBlogs by BlogAdda

Do read part 5 here: https://theindianidiot.wordpress.com/2014/09/16/week-1-5th-post-team-blog-o-holics-gameofblogs-by-blogadda/

Part 6

Tara summoned up all her strength and ran into the welcoming, wide road at the end of the alley. She felt scared, angry and strangely, even dirty... as if she had been sullied by this terrible encounter with the hoodie guy. She was shocked at how seemingly innocent that epithet sounded: the hoodie guy. He could have been anyone; could it have been someone she knew? Did she know that grey hoodie from somewhere? No, she tried to rationalise, such hoodies are a dime a dozen in the market. Yet there was something about the hoodie-wearing stranger that had left a mark in her ravaged mind.
She walked quickly and tried to blend into the crowds on the pavement. She wanted to get away from this strange place as soon as possible; all she wanted was to get to her clean, organised, safe home and hug her family. Over and over again. And then maybe call the police. Her anger came surging back: she was a top-notch editor and she wasn't going to let anyone bully her into anything. If someone was trying to teach her a lesson with this kidnapping, she would teach them something! She would get to the bottom of this, she resolved.
However, her willpower wasn't enough to take her bruised body forward. She felt her knees sag, and she simply crumpled into the pavement. She could barely brace herself before her body hit the ground with a thud. 'More bruises,' thought Tara wryly, even as she felt her head spinning. Everything around her seemed to be a blur. She could only sense the feelings of the people around her: the initial shock and irritation, the hesitant curiosity, the indifferent crowding around to see a spectacle. She wished someone would just help her stand up and put her in a rickshaw. She wanted to go home so desperately; tears began streaming down her cheeks.
Suddenly she felt strong arms around her. "Tara ma'am! What happened to you?"
She willed her eyes open and caught a glimpse of a familiar face: Cyrus! She opened her mouth to talk but couldn't. Her world went black, and she slipped into the comfort of the welcoming darkness.
...................................
When Tara awoke, she looked up at the harsh, unblinking light above her and fought the urgency to run. Another strange place! Slowly she took in her surroundings: the neat room, various monitors by the bedside, the IV line hooked up to a colourless liquid, her crisp white sheets, the TV in the corner with a Bollywood starlet soundlessly doing a round of crude gymnastics, and there, facing the TV, slumped in a sofa, was Cyrus. He was dozing and she noted the tired look on his face. 'God knows how long he has been here taking care of me,' thought Tara. 'Has it been hours or days?'
'And where's Shekar?' she thought. He should have been here by now. 'Oh how I miss him, and Roohi!' Just thinking of them made her want to cry. But she had decided that she would not waste any more of her precious tears on this cruel monster of a kidnapper. He may have scared her, but he definitely could not break her. She tried to build up a profile of him in her head; she would need to give the best description she could to the police.
There wasn't much she recognised about him physically, except for that hoodie. But there was something intangible... something she felt she knew but couldn't grasp. Her head ached from thinking so hard.
And then it hit her! That smell! His smell! The kidnapper used a perfume startlingly similar to the attar that Shekar got concocted at his favourite attar-wallah's. Perhaps this guy bought his attar too at the same place; perhaps he knew Shekar! Was this someone with a vendetta against Shekar? No, that wasn't possible... Shekar was too mild-mannered. He didn't have a problem with anybody! Nevertheless, Shekar would be able to help her find this guy. First she must ask him about this perfume shop of his. She might find some answers there! With all these thoughts swirling in her head, she tried to sit up in bed.
The door to her room opened abruptly, and Shekar stood in the doorway. He looked strangely dishevelled. He had a concerned expression on his face as he walked slowly into the room.

Keep reading. Go here for part 7: http://imcapturingsunshine.blogspot.in/2014/09/week-1-part-7-game-of-blogs.html

Me and my team are participating in ‘Game Of Blogs’ at BlogAdda.com. #CelebrateBlogging with us.

My love, you are my joy

Shutterstock/thoughtcatalog.com

My love, it's a scary world,

Every day so unpredictable and untrue.

It's your love that keeps me sane

And drives away the blues.

Every time you hold my hand

It's an affirmation of faith

In all that we have cherished

And lovingly built up through the years.

My love, you are my rock,

My go-to spot for happiness

And my pillar of support.

Life is so much better with you.

Every time you smile at me 

And say I am treasured,

My insides well up with a happiness so great

I fear my heart will burst.

My love, you are my joy,

My sunshine and my friend.

Every challenge I face

Is made obsolete by the special love we share.

Nearly there... five months

Good Morning!

Little Diya is such a bundle of joy; I am actually enjoying the pleasures of laid-back mothering this time around. There's so much to be thankful for now that I feel such a need to just sit down and connect with the Almighty.

Let me count my blessings:

1. It's 18 years this day to the official start of our Love Story. And I think we have gone through all the phases--from giggly romance to the can't-keep-my-hands-off-you stage to side-by-side best-buddies co-existence. Right now, we are at this stage where we kind of take the other for granted, in a nice way, give each other the space we need and yet manage to keep the spark going strong .
2. Diya is nearly 5 months old; she is a healthy, calm child who has taken to eating her solids like a pro. Starting on idlis today, after four days of pureed rice. :)PS: Love her hearty laughs!
3. Ditu is doing so well at school, asking questions, understanding the world she interacts with and more. And she takes such care of the little one, even if she inadvertently slips into horseplay at times. I wish I could be a kinder mother to her, but it's difficult. I guess, firstborns get this penchant for perfection from being yelled at relentlessly by their mothers. Dear God, I don't want to end up as the nastiest chapter in her memoir even though she tells me now, "I will never hate you Mumma. Sometimes I get angry but it's not at you. I LOVE you!" Okay, let's just wait for teenage to set in, which, I hear, starts at 10 these days!
4. My sister! I am always thankful for her: she's my sanity at times, even though I tend to forget that, between minding my chores and telling her how to live her life. I hope she will find true happiness in her heart. And I'm guessing our parents staying with her for a few months is bound to put a smile on that pretty face.
5. Friends... loads and loads of them. I am thankful for each one of my buddies. From the ones who help me manage a harried day by sending me a home-cooked dish to the ones who make me smile by 'Liking' my photos on FB, I am thankful for each one of you.
6. Good health, and I am saying this despite my bad cold and sprained back.

I used to keep an online journal on Penzu while I was pregnant. And boy, am I glad I did! The account sends me random entries from the diary once in a while and just today, I read up on some funny-crazy dreams I had when I was pregnant with Diya. I am glad those dreams did not just slip into oblivion. Writing my new entry in the journal today prompted me to blog as well. So hola everyone! Hope to be back soon! 

Will I deliver already?

In the last few weeks of my second pregnancy... and I am stuck between feeling anxious, impatient and restless. Of course, things are a whole lot different than when I had my daughter six and half years ago. For one thing, there are more aches, pains and discomfort than I remember from back then. (And yes, I have heard all variations of the joke that it's only because I'm way older now.) Perhaps I can blame part of that on a faulty memory that seems to have packed off on vacation since around the second trimester! But one thing I do know... and that is, despite all the pregnancy-related problems (symptoms, if you prefer), I had gone to work almost till the end of my first pregnancy. This time, I am officially on rest since the middle of last month; not to speak of having had to stop going to office months earlier!

Courtesy: www.glasbergen.com

And this time around, there is also the added pressure (at least in my mind) of having to get it all right this time! The first time, I struggled with breastfeeding despite my resolve to do so exclusively. My lil' one, though, had her own plans, which, needless to say, were the polar opposite of mine. Yes, yes, I hear ye all-natural moms who are so ready to point a finger at us moms who weren't able to exclusively breastfeed, as well as those who may not necessarily have breastfed their own but heartily subscribe to it when it concerns others. Believe me, I have no time for such people... And no, I don't intend to justify myself to their ilk.

However, my concerns tend towards my own ideals of motherhood, which are lofty, to say the least. The higher the standards you set for yourself, the bigger the disappointment if you can't make them, especially when you are sleep-deprived, tired and going-a-lil-loony in the process. Still, I am determined to slog ahead, with the wisdom that it's ok if I fail; maybe I won't beat myself up as much as last time. One new thing I plan to try out this time round is to rely mostly on cloth diapers. May the Good Lord grant me oodles of patience!

I want to fly!

My blood boils each time society tries to enforce the notion that men are better than women, and we women are forced to be punished for problems caused by men! The recent Gurgaon incident, where a girl working at a pub was gang-raped on her way home late at night, 'inspired' the government to come up with a 'solution' to protect women: Women should not be allowed to work after 8 pm!! Which means all the BPO workers, shop assistants etc are all to head home before the clock strikes that witching hour when men turn into beasts?

Courtesy: freembaby.blogspot.com 

Eh? I don't get the logic here! Why should women be punished for something that is not their fault? Companies employing women past the witching hour have to comply by a number of new rules... how many companies will go to that extra trouble to keep their female workforce? I am sure they would rather hire men and be done with the hassle! So, women, who are probably working late nights to eke out a livelihood or better their career, have to forgo their dreams and ambitions, and stay home to avoid becoming 'prey'.

Why can't we just bring up our boys to be respectful people, who treat every person as a fellow human being? Attitudinal change should begin at home. Grassroots change is what is needed; of course, it won't be easy. Which is probably why the government prefers easier options like the ban on women working late. So what of all those women who are abducted, raped, harassed in broad daylight? How long will bans work? In the 21st century, are we going to regress into a society which keeps its women behind closed doors with absolutely no rights? Wake up, India!