BeSt VaLeNtInEs CaRd

My daughter made me a valentine card and considering that she cannot write and had to ask her brother for each letter of the word she wanted to put down, I thought it was the most beautiful card. A heart cut out of very ordinary art paper and scribbled over with a pencil, the message said it all. It said "the only people who love each other so much. have the best valentines day"... 

My books are precious to me!

When someone borrows a book, and you in all goodness lend it wanting the spread of the value of the word, little would you know that the book is gone forever. Books very often are precious or invaluable only to its collector and it is one of those commodities easily borrowed and forgotten to return. And if you with all your sincerity ask for it back, you are looked upon as a worthless scheming person who has not even half an heart to let go of material possessions. Let me ask you, would you agree to the same if I borrowed your car or diamond necklace and showed reluctance to return or in turn just forward lend to it to someone you have never heard of let alone met. Then why should my books be any less important or valuable to me.  And then there are those who feel comfortable enough to scribble on my books, tear pages for want of keepsake or even add on their contorted talents to illustrations. My books are me, and I don't want to be touched, when i don't want to be touched. Love me, ask me out, invite me over, enjoy spending time with me but don't take me for granted, so please can I have myself back!

Fairyland!!

Two years back when I admitted my little girl in ballet lessons little did I know that she would overwhelm me with her performance. More than just her performance, it is the scurry of little feet and the float of pretty ballerinas back stage that I remember the most. The large hall which housed children of all ages till the performance started was like a fairy land. Vivid pastels of the lacy tutus, shiny satins and body suits that shimmered weaved a magic that I had never seen in real before. Somewhere deep within I wished I was a child again, wanting to be part of that wonderland where bows and frills, pinks and lilacs stars and sequins came alive !

A father's gift

Is it true when they say that we pass on our curses and blessings onto our children. This has been on my mind since I read a feature on Stalin's daughter. If she had to be quoted as "I regret that my mother did not marry a carpenter"then I wonder how much she must have detested her fate for being who she was by birthright, . A life that could have experienced so much, but wasted till the end on a search for self, trying to find peace within. She was called a 'little sparrow' by her father- a revelation of his affections or was it just possession.Ironically I call my daughter sparrow at times.