Posted in poem, Poetry, Uncategorized, writer, writing

Colours of life – Part II

When the browns of your eyes
Meet the chocolates of mine
The reds of my heart
Turn an unusual shade

So come here, come to me
And see your colours on my demeanor

Your greens have enveloped me
And so have the fawns
You have stolen my jet blacks
And paired them with your crimsons

So come here, stay with me
And let these colours linger on me

You are enveloped in my blues
And snatched away my scarlets
The way you took my heart
And are slowly seranading my soul

So come here, live with me
And throw these colours into my world
My life

Your colours have mesmerized me
But why my colours have engulfed you
Have you fallen for me?
The way I secretly fell for you…

So come here, marry me
And let our colours mingle
Fashioning a palette unseen
Unspoken
But real……

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Posted in forts in jaipur, india, indian, jaigarh fort, jaipur, jaipur city, jaipur diaries, north indian, travel, travel diaries, travel writing, traveller, travelogue, Uncategorized, writer, writing

Travel Musings – Jaigarh Fort

One fine day, I decided to leave it all. Leave the derision that wakes you up in the night.
Leave the bullshit that does not allow you a good night’s sleep
Leave the people who never rise above their insecurities.
Leave the circumstances that compel you to doubt yourself
Leave the surroundings that makes you gloomy
Leave everything and everyone
Which and who, no more serve you
Or your life

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Posted in himalayas, mountain, mountains, nag tibba, the lesser himalayas, travel, travel diaries, travel writing, traveller, travelogue, Uncategorized, uttarakhand, writer, writing

Travel Musings – Nag Tibba

“But before I die, I want to fight for life. If I can walk on my own, I can go wherever I like.”

And these beautiful lines from #elevenminutes aptly describe my state of mind while trekking towards the Nag Tibba base camp on day 1. I wanted to give up and get back to our guest house in the Pantwari village because of the excruciating pain in my shoulder blades and back but something stopped me. That “something” compelled me to believe that I can reach the base camp, come whatever may.

 

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Posted in nag tibba, snow trek, travel, travel diaries, travel writing, traveller, travelogue, trek, trekking, Uncategorized, uttarakhand, writer, writing

Travel musings – Nag Tibba

Lately, I have realized that on steep ⛰️ treks, you need to be careful with the weight of your bag. The heavier it is, the more it will hinder your movements. And on steeper terrain, you need to be cautious while traversing as any wrong move could hurt you.
This bag was around 8-9kg and I carried it for 6km till the Nag Tibba base camp and the resultant – inflamed ankles and knees.

 

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Posted in Grandparents, poem, Poetry, Uncategorized, writer, writing

Grandpa, where are you?

Those breezy mornings when I run
I stiffle a sniff and move for the kill
But then an octagenarian stops me
And scolds me for being too fast.

With all reverence, I obey him
And then realization hits me
He has grandkids to play with
But my grandparents are far away
So ohh grandpa, where are you?

You willingly ate the horrendous chappatis I cooked
You were the Santa of my childhood
You read the kiddish poems I wrote
With deep relish and glee.

Those chappatis have become perfect now
And the poems have a slight elegance
But our worlds are far far away
So oh grandpa where are you?

En route to the bus stop
I meet a septagenarian couple
Who smile and talk like you grandpa
I converse with them out of nostalgia
Their eyes well up when I leave
And mine are lost in a tearful sea
But still grandpa, where are you?

My nights are spent lamenting your loss
And days in forgetting it
You pampered me with all thy love
And all your affection was showered
On this fragile little heart
So, oh grandpa where are you?

I keep your pictures tucked away
Locked in old cases
Scared I am from the oncoming emmotional rush
Which empty me and take my soul away.

So oh, grandpa where are you?
Maybe with my old grandma
Do tell her I miss her too….

 

Posted in himalayas, india, indian, mountain, mountains, north indian, travel, travel diaries, travel writing, traveller, travelogue, Uncategorized, writer

Mountains o’ mountains

Dear Himalayas,

Greetings of the day to you, whether you are the lofty Greater Himalayas, the enchanting Middle Himalayas (Himachal) or the mud and pebble laden Lesser Himalayas (Shiwaliks).

You see, the biggest regret of my life till date is not exploring your mesmerizing valleys, climbing your challenging peaks and relishing the sense of achievement that comes with such experiences. Well yes, I can count the number of treks that I have been to in your bastion, but there remain hundreds of places untouched by my eyes and unexplored by me feet .
And just a week from now on, I am supposed to visit your area once again but hell no, life always has to be tricky for me.

You know, these ankles of mine have lately started misbehaving. And by misbehaving, I mean an extreme case of naughtiness and disobedience.

My orthopaedist says a usual case of calcium and Vitamin D deficiency because you know, physically I’m a woman even though I try to think and reason out like a man sometimes. But yes, sometimes I do behave like a woman and hence these rants!

Back to the case of being a woman and suffering from deficiencies even though I drink two glasses of milk a day and can’t keep my hungry tongue away from the silky texture of home made yoghurt. (My mom will viciously disagree about two glasses because of those lactose intolerant specific days).

And to add insult to these deficiencies (pun intended), I used to run with the shoe laces tied around my ankles. My orthopaedist said no wonder Shreya madam, no wonder.

So after two months of abstinence from trekking, running and travelling, popping a host of medicines and being thrust with injections in my derriere for the past four weeks, I thought I had finally recuperated. I could climb the stairs of my office again with no taunts from happy colleagues in the lift. I could run again and shed that extra flab I had graciously gained around my waist. My left ankle was raring to trek your trails again.

I could wear my favourite heels again and when I did, I fell down because I had forgotten that my ankles were still unstable.

My right ankle gave a wink to my left ankle.

And there went my plans of doing a trek of 9km, wandering a tea garden like a Yash Chopra muse and wearing my pretty pink trekking shoes again to spoilt waters.

But above all, I’m wondering when will I inhale the air that wanders around you and get to see your beauty again. I wish to be as strong as you are but sometimes I overstress myself and shit happens.

My life is short and I can not stand at one place for the whole day and that too for years unlike you.

This ankle pain has literally been a pain in whatever portion of my original ass I’m left with. I have never been so inactive and I hate this helplessness.

Meanwhile, my parents are laughing at my belief in the impossible feat of getting my right ankle back on track within the next four days. My orthopaedist was pretty strict today considering he had given me a go ahead last week.

So Thursday is the day when the fate of our next meeting will be decided.

This letter mentioned my womanly rants (no offense to any lady, but let us learn to laugh at ourselves) more than my love for you and your children. But my child like heart yearns to savour the fresh aroma of mountain soil, the coniferous and the sweet rhododendrons.

I desperately want to meet you, more desperately than my future mother-in-law. Wink wink.

Regards
Shreya Srivastava

 

Posted in Letter, Prose, Satire, Uncategorized, writer, writing

Open letter to my future mother-in-law

Respected Mother-in-law

Funny, how people close to me keep teasing me that you are to be dreaded and revered at. And funny, how my previous manager said that you’ll be the one to straighten me up ( I have already improved myself a lot, so lesser tasks in your kitty now)

Let’s get somethings straight, you’ll never be my mother and I’ll never be your daughter. So that formality must go when I’m with you. I tease my mother a lot and I can not think of doing the same with you, out of respect. At 28, I still play pranks on my dear Mommy and having a good time after that. But I can’t do that with you. I have no intention of replacing your daughter ( if you have one) or becoming one (if you don’t have one).
You’ll always love your own progeny more than me and I accept that.

But yes, we can have our fun moments too. Since you and I are going to spend a lot of time together, we’ll make the most of it.

I’ll take some time in getting acquainted with you, I can not be pally with you in the first meeting itself. We have all had our trust broken and I learn from my mistakes. But once I’m comfortable with you, we are going to have a hell of a ride.

You might find me arrogant and an introvert the first time you meet me, this is my first impression to the majority of population. But I’m pretty sure you’ll have a good time knowing this volcano of a person.

I know how to ride a motorcycle and since my Mom doesn’t trust me with any vehicle, so I’ll take you on those adventurous bike rides. And I know how to cook a delicious meal (God bless my genes and creativity) and you’ll see a lot of experimentation in your kitchen.
I don’t have any grand plans of ruling your home with a bundle of keys on my waist (as depicted in Hindi soap operas) but your kitchen has to be mine. No compromises on that. One of my cousins gifted us a lovely set of knives (chef’s and butcher’s knife included) and I’m bringing that set as dowry. And yes, a wooden chopping board too because I have developed a habit of cutting edibles like a chef after watching those numerous cookery shows.
Please don’t worry, your kitchen will be fine, it is in safe hands.
I love to shower onstentatious gifts on the people close to me, so please do not be surprised if you receive a Kanjeevaram or a Banarasi silk on your birthday. My taste in Indian attire is pretty developed because of those innumerable shopping sprees with my Mom.
Coming to your pampered brat of a son, I have no intention of mollycoddling him the way you do. You can continue doing that, he can continue being a Momma’s boy, I really don’t mind. But when he is with me, he has to be a responsible man – independent and capable of taking his own decisions.
I know that I can never shower the sort of affection that you do on him. I somehow understand this because of my late grandmother’s fondness for her sons.

I have developed travelling as a hobby, and sometimes I go for solo travel. My mom is too scared to travel with me to unknown destinations (though we have gone together to Lucknow countless times) but I would love to take you on those travels. Please don’t worry, I won’t go for trekking with you. But wherever we go, I’ll take care of you and your dear son will feel pretty jealous of us.
My sheer adamancy will sometimes give you a hard time but trust me when I say that diplomacy wins more wars than ammunition.
My previous manager and many of my friends would also like to express their best wishes to you on my wedding day since you are taking me in your household. You are my mother-in-law, you’ll have own your swagger.
I wish to express more here, but I’ll keep those points for our conversations. Because after all, what is the fun if I reveal everything here?

Hoping to meet you soon,
Sincerely
Shreya Srivastava
(The surname won’t change, even if yours is different from mine. Yes but Shreya S. whatever your son’s surname is can be negotiated)