“Mom is out for some prayers, Brother. Hurry up I am making Parathas, come have your dinner.”

“No sis, I’ll have it with you.”

“Aiyya no, have it now! If you will not eat it now, they will get too hard to be chewed even.”

“Ha ha…doesn’t matter, it’s your effort that will add the taste. We will eat together.”

Out of the eight chapattis she makes, the first four are not round, or gets burnt. Mother eats them hoping that one day she will learn.

Standing at the gateway of early twenties when the soul is reckless and undaunted and heart filled with dreams, the news of Myra’s best friend’s wedding brought immense joy, but when she digs her heart, it brought a lot of chaos and anxiety. Everything paused for a moment and the five year old friendship of wildness, independent flights and adventurous tales just ran across her mind. She was overwhelmed with emotions. Happy for her, but amazed by the fact, “Oh mine, we just grew up.”

There is such a fine line between two different edges of a life. A line of vermilion drawn and the tangents of infinite responsibilities emerge.

Pooja wants to go home, but then those proposals and talks of wedding freeze her completely. It’s hard to socialize with questions of when you are going to be hooked. She is young, but suddenly the chirpiness disappears and she becomes silent. She is losing out and breaking from within, but for the world, she is just isolating herself. Is it too much of studies? Is she into something fishy? What is the matter? The gossips prevail all across the community. The noises outside are not louder than the voices within. But it’s just that ‘within’ is completely hidden.

There is no denial, but need for time to figure out things and the purpose of life. Maturity brings new hopes and aspirations. There is no escape but there can be some delay to understand the career, the interests, the visions and then willfully and beautifully enter into some new bonds.

Knot her not when she is wedded to her dreams.

Knot her not to a man, marry her to a soul.

Knot her not to the binding traditions; wed her to a bond of beautiful relations.

Knot her not to the people titled as her in laws, wed her to a family.

Worry not, she did not cease to be a woman, but she is still that reckless girl.

The coal no longer underlines her eyes, because she wants the heart to be noticed.

The bruises of her breakup are still afresh; knot her not with a burden to drag forever.

Wedding is a beautiful tale; let her embrace when she really wants to.

Knot her not to misery; let her wed to the joy.

Knot her not when she is still wants to give birth to her wedded dreams.