Figuring out Parents


It’s amazing how parents find a way to say ‘no’ to whatever your asking. No matter  what you ask for, however logical the solution is or no matter how reasonable your explanation is, they – find – a – way – to – say – ‘no’! It’s funny sometimes when you listen to the reason for their negative approach. It includes everything from you not getting up early to it’s a cloudy day today. I can’t even see the relation between the two.

I guess all the parents are that way. They are complicated and moody. They say they don’t expect anything from their kids but hello, that is usually quite the opposite. Anything that doesn’t fit in their conventional way of thinking is not meant for them nor for us. And the most amazing part of it all (and probably the most annoying) is when, at the end they utter this world class statement: “WE ARE DOING IT FOR YOUR OWN GOOD”.

Whoever has their parents all figured out is probably the most happiest person. I sincerely believe that if as an individual one can convince parents for something, then one can convince the whole world. Parents are the hardest creatures to win over.

Everyone loves their parents. Who doesn’t (maybe there are some people who don’t)?! But at times they are tiring; especially during one’s teenage years when one is full of these hormones that swings the mood into directions that can’t be controlled. And all that parents care about is you attending “chacha ki beti ki shaadi” (dad’s brothers son’s wedding or in short cousin’s wedding) and whether or not you will wear a decent lehenga (piece  of clothing worn during Indian wedding) with gold jewelry. Wake up Parents!!

They say being a mother is the hardest job and raising your child is no child’s play. But for now I feel being an obedient child is the hardest job and keeping parents happy is a nightmare to fulfill. It’s tough for everybody but who decides the criteria for obedience? Obviously it’s going to be different for different parents. So how can they (parents) be so sure that what they are choosing for their child is the best thing?

If it wasn’t for parents we wouldn’t be half of what we are today but I also know that after all they are humans and even they are liable to commit mistakes (please don’t tell your parents this because they are very good at arguments). Off course their experience counts but a child can also learn far more from his/her experience than from guidance. I speak this from experiences I have witnessed.

After trying and failing and trying again, for so many years I realized that there comes a day when I stopped figuring out my parents (this is not entirely true). They are moody, complicated, unconditionally loving and they will expect achievements from us. But if I am allowed guesswork  then I would say that they are PARENTS after all and probably have the most difficult job on earth, that is raising US! Not always do they know the right thing for the child but I think it is a series of calculative guesses that help them figure it out. I always imagined a series of permutations and combinations going on inside their head, critically weighing and measuring the pros and cons, other people’s failures and the child’s happiness to make a decision which according to them will benefit us the most. I think it is fair to say that they too are trying and failing and trying again, for so many years to figure their kids out.The truth is one day we too will be parents and stand on the other side of this discussion. And that thought seriously scares me!! Just kidding.



Emergency room part 2


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You can read the first part of this article by clicking on Emergency Room part 1.


‘You’ve been in coma for three days’, the words echoed in Sara’s ears. Her head hurt terribly and she was tearing up. For the first time in her life she was genuinely scared for her life.

She looked up at the doctor and the nurse and with great difficulty formed a question, a question she badly needed an answer to. “Am I going to be okay doctor?” she asked, as a tear streamed down her cheek.

 “You are doing much better than the last few days. You hit your head pretty hard, so we have do a few scans just to be sure there isn’t any permanent damage to your brain of any sort.”

“But what happened to me doctor?” Sara asked.

“You were in a car accident. Your head was badly hurt and a few of your ribs are fractured. And your left ear may also have suffered some damage, which may cause some hearing impediment on the left side.”

She scoffed, as if she hadn’t already figured out that she had been in an accident. She asked hurriedly, her voice somewhere between screaming and whining “I was at a party on Saturday and all I remember is saying good bye to people. I do not recollect driving off. Why can’t I remember? Why?”

The doctor placed a hand on her shoulder, “Okay Sara, you need to calm down. This often happens during head injuries where the brain deletes the incident from the memory. It’s like a coping mechanism of the brain to the shock it has endured.”

Sara was in no mood to understand the hippie functions of the brain, “Look, you don’t understand. I had to be home that day. I had to be home to my son. I need to call him. Please get my purse. Please.” She pleaded.

“But there were no belongings of yours”, the aged- looking nurse said to her.

“How can it be? I had my purse when I left”, Sara said obviously annoyed.

“Now now, no need to panic. If you could give us your address we could inform the cops to check on your son. Also you need to give the contact information about any family member just in case, the doctor said while handing her a pen and an ever so small note pad.

Sara touched the pen to the paper to write down her address but nothing came to her mind. She was completely blank. She tried real hard to remember her mom’s number but she failed at that too. Maybe her dad’s number, which was easier to remember with all the repeating pattern. Her mind was still blank. She had memorized those numbers in case of an emergency. Now, she couldn’t help but scoff at the irony.

Frustrated, she looked at the doctor, tears welling up again in her eyes, “I can’t remember”. And then she looked down, ashamed of herself. The doctor was sympathetic and told her that’ll she remember it, sooner or later. “The numbers are just jumbled up in your brain”, he said. He also assured her that he’ll inform the cops about her child, “Maybe they can get an address if they cross link your number plate of the car.” And they both left.

She thought of Daniel, her son. He has been alone for three days. He was performing in the play on Sunday, or was supposed to perform. She thought about Joshua, the kiss they had shared, ‘Wouldn’t he be worried that I haven’t received or called him for three days? He would call right? Or would he be like the snotty guys, who wouldn’t want to look desperate? I can’t believe it. Here I am in the ICU, ribs broken, brain malfunctioning, ear damaged, my son possibly starving at home and I’m thinking of boy troubles”. And then she drifted off to sleep.


Sara woke up to the sound of people talking outside the room. She had slept for a long time and felt much better than before. The doctor and a tall muscular inspector entered. Sara felt a ray of hope. 

“Did you reach my son inspector? Is he okay? Is there someone to take care of him?”, Sara asked.

The inspector replied rather matter- of- factly, “I’m afraid not ma’am. There was nothing to identify you by in the car. And when we cross referenced the car number, it showed that the car belonged to a Joshua Smith. This car along with Joshua has been reported missing. What were you doing driving his car on Saturday?”

“What? No, that can’t be. I was driving home to my son. Why would I be going home with Joshua’s car?”, Sara replied, her head hurting again as she tried remembering the events. 

The inspector was now looking at her rather sternly, his gaze of that of a hawk. He said, “I would love to believe you ma’am but evidence suggest otherwise. But until we hear more about Joshua Smith, you are a clear suspect in this whole scenario.” Sara opened her mouth to say something in protest, but the inspector cut her off, “also, the doctor tells me that the alcohol content in your blood was more than 0.08 %. You were definitely very very drunk.” 

To be continued…..






Fashion Illustrations


I don’t know why I end up making color coordinated posts always. I guess It’s just become a thing.On the left we have the flowy, evening, red carpet look and the right we have the chic party look. If you like my illustrations please don’t forget to like.

Emergency Room part 1









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Sara lay awake in the hospital room as she tried desperately to remember what happened last night. How did she end up here? What had transpired between kissing Joshua at the party and waking up in the ICU. She had absolutely no memory of the past 6 hours.

Saying goodbye to Joshua and his warm embrace was all she remembered. “Maybe I could call him. Ask him what happened”, she thought. She looked around for her belongings but her purse and phone were missing.

She rang the bell for help. A middle aged, dark haired nurse who looked far older than her actual age came running towards her . “Can you please give me my purse?” Sara asked her. She was alarmed at how feeble her voice sounded. The nurse looked at her quizzically. Sara was unsure, whether the nurse heard her faint plea. So she opened her mouth to inquire about her belongings once more but the nurse cut her off by saying, “shush shush shush shush… now, you need to lie down sweety. I’ll just call the doctor okay”. And she trotted away.

The nurse looked very relieved to see her awake. Sara wondered why! Was she very serious, on the brink of life and what lies on the other side ?! Did she manage to just escape the clutches of death today?

She looked at the wall clock again, 3.00 A.M. She remembered leaving the party at nine. Or was it ten- thirty?! Gosh! Why was it so hard to remember. Yes! Definitely nine. She Faintly recollected telling Amar at the party that she had promised Daniel, her 8 year old son she would be back before his bed time to help him rehearse his part in the play. She was running late again that night . Running late to fulfill his son’s wishes. What was she supposed to do. When your a single parent, you got to make ends meet. “Oh God! If I’m in the hospital,and not at home, that means Daniel is all alone at home” , her realization soon turned to dread and almost quickly into panic. She pressed the bell fervently now, almost frantically. She needed her damn purse, to find the damn phone to check on her baby.

The same nurse came rushing towards her but this time there was an elderly doctor with her. She told them in between breathless gasps that she needed her phone to call at home because her child had been all alone for the past 6 hours. Then the doctor said something that was unfathomable to her in her wildest imaginations, “But ma’am, you have been in coma for the past 3 days”.

To be continued…..

The Pink Fetish



Growing up it was always made known to me that pink is a feminine color. A boy walking by with a pink shirt left a sneer in the room indicating, “Oh! That is so girly”. 

Although this shouldn’t have been a problem for me because I’m a girl. But unfortunately, when your a girl and fueled with high testosterone it usually equals repelling anything that looks “girly”. 

I went through that tom boy phase of repelling pink and anything associated with it. But pink has a way of catching up with you and before long unknowingly most of the items in my wardrobe turned pink. And one day someone pointed out to me that I have a pink fetish.

Disclaimer: My fetish with pink is not a fetish in “that” sense. It’s just that I love pink even though I secretly wish I wouldn’t because I’m not very girly. So pink is my guilty pleasure.






One paragraph that resonated with me more strongly than the others in the book ‘THE MONK WHO SOLD HIS FERRARI’ was the one in where the author Robin Sharma explains the thought process of a human being. 

Julian added: ” The sages taught me that on an average day the average person runs about sixty thousand thoughts through his mind. What really amazed me, though, was that ninety- five percent of those thoughts were the ones you thought the day before!”


This inspired me to make an art project to pen down the words, colors, patterns and the shapes that fanatically twirl in my mind.



Our thoughts are sometimes like a thread, fibers woven together; resembling a single idea running amidst the noise and the clatter. And sometimes they resemble the branches of the trees, haphazardous but always leaning towards the light.

Our minds are never blank, there are those voices, our voices, the patterns to follow and the colors to mix.


When Death Arrives

Offshore, at sea;

it scans rapidly,

the prey that

is naive.

So naive!

Thinking years ahead,

So unaware,

that death,

stands at the oche.


It swims to

the shore,



A shark circling

it’s bait;


manic greed,

enjoying the wait.



eye to eye,

The hour to say


How shall he do it?

How shall he kill?

The ultimate kill!


Or let him live?


So lazy,

is death;

Even to decide

the prey’s fate!

“Let’s have fun”

it says.

Frisks the prey,

like a kitten.

Drinks aperitif with it

like a Samaritan!


Death arrives in forms,

So many;

Subtle, dramatic;

always uncanny

The very essence

of death,

Bored- so easily.

Stopping a heartbeat,

merely a formality.