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The Cycle And The C

Why do we spell the sea as "sea" and not just "c"? This was the question my son had asked once when he was a kindergartner. My extempore answer to it was, "This C is too small for the big sea!" And the giggles satisfied both the hearts! But tell me, why cant we spell sea as "c"? 

This "C" however has innumerable memories attached to it. 

Dwelling in Sharjah, at one point of time, Ajman Beach was nearest to us. We had spent a lot of week ends, Friday and Saturday, as we were in UAE, on this beach. The routine was pretty easy...Have a hearty brunch at Dwarka in Abu Shagara and head to Ajman beach. Frisbee, sand tools, cricket bat and ball used to be our staple companions. My son, aged 3 then, was so very scared of the waves lashing the shore that it took a while for us to get him accustomed. And once that initial phobia was done with, we had difficulty in pulling him out of the seas! Some moments of my life are still ingrained in those sands!!!

Sometimes, we used to travel to Fujairah. It is almost 100Kms from Sharajah.  I was told that it was nearest point to India, geographically! At times, feeling nostalgic, I used to wave my hand in the direction of India; conveying that I missed it much! The clear aquamarine blue green  water all throughout the year had its own charm. Though it was little rough compared to one at Ajman, it appeared like a macho man! Journey to Fujairah was also a wonderful sojourn. Friday Market en route to Fujairah was a must stop over...one on the pretext of taking the break from the long drive and another for browsing through locally produced fresh vegetables and fruits, pottery, carpets, nurseries, etc. 

Jumeirah Beach at Dubai was another marvel. Barbecue outings with friends and families was accompanied by the pull of crystal clear water here. The sea here was always calm. And no matter how deep I ventured into the water, I could always see my toes! The clear blue open skies and the vastness of the sea complimented each other. After so many years, I am yet to come to conclusion whether it was the company of the friends or was it the tranquility of water here that had lasting impression on me.

And it was here that my son learnt cycling. Cycling is and will always remian close to my heart. 

This romance dates back to my child-hood days. Growing up in a far off small town in northern Maharashtra, there was only one bicycle shop. It was strategically placed at a corner in the city center. The only brand that was sold was "Atlas". My elder bro and me, grew up spending considerable time in front of the shop, marveling at the beauties displayed there; whenver we went to the market place. As the town was small, so were the distances. And thus no bicycle for me or my brother, we were told.

However things changed when my brother was in 10th standard. He had to attend the tuition classes. In order to save time for self study, my brother was gifted a new bicycle. I felt so very envious of him that time. He used to walk like a King whenever he spotted me near his bicycle. I was prohibited from using it. It was his property. I could win a ride only at his mercy! 

One fine day, however, I had a chance of my life. 

That day Big B did not take the cycle to the tuition. It was standing in the porch and was calling out to me. Every one else was busy inside the house. I stealthily crept inside, grabbed the keys and here I was riding the cycle and enjoying my success! But it was short lived. The treacherous puddle landed me on the ground. In order to avoid it, I had veered straight into it! I miss those naive days!!!

Gone is that cycle and the "C" too... But the sparkling memories ride elegantly on the shores of my time line!

-----------By MocktailMommy Anagha

Linking this post to #FridayReflections by Sanch Vee and Corinne

Walk A Mile In My Shoes

Ever since I was a child, I had been an introvert. Well, that's a thing of the past now. In the present, I doubt if you can find anyone as talkative as me!!! Something during my years as a medical student changed me. I cannot point to what exactly was the event that made me turn around. I would rather say it might have been a series of experiences.

I was brought up in a very protected environment till my 12th Standard. Most of the household work was done by my mother and I was seldom expected to help her out. We led very pampered lives all through, till one fine day it was decided that I am to move to another city for my further studies. 

I was panic-stricken....what would I do?? How would I manage everything all alone. I wasn't even used to folding my clothes on my own, leave alone washing them myself. Cooking was a distant dream....all I could do was boil water(even that, I was doubtful of doing without any disaster happening). 

I clearly remember the first day that I entered the small hostel room. It was scary.....all I felt like doing was turn around and run into the cozy arms of my mom, who had come to drop me. But then, she knew that I had to be on my own now. So after hurriedly setting my luggage in place, she bade goodbye. Tears started flowing down my cheeks.....I was no more in my comfort zone.

Thereafter, every small step felt like an obstacle. But somehow, destiny had good things in store for me. I was blessed with very caring & cooperative roommates. Slowly, but steadily I learned how to do daily chores. Cleaning my room, arranging my stuff neatly, washing clothes, cooking simple meals....all happened in due course. Most importantly, I learned how to manage my finances, how to speak up for myself. Finally, I had a done it......I WAS INDEPENDENT!!! 

It was a pleasant surprise for my parents when I returned home for my first vacation. It wasn't a very harrowing experience, but I am sure every person who leaves home for the first time, away from all the doting attention of parents, will relate to this.

So now, every time someone shares their worries about how their child will cope with hostel life, I say "Don't worry, they will do just fine!!" 

"It must have been easy for an extrovert like you" they retort..... to which I think in my mind "WALK A MILE IN MY SHOES!!!"

                                    ------ MocktailMommy Prasanna

 ‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’ 

The Scribe

There were a myriad of ideas running through Rohit's head. He almost started to feel his temples throbbing. Assigned by his editor to finish the article in the next four hours, his mind suddenly went blank.

He looked up to stare at the various articles he had pinned up on his board. His eyes suddenly fell on the picture of this young, pretty face.....innocence written all over it.

It took him back almost instantly to the day when he had seen her lying in a pool of blood at the entrance of the building....

It was his article about her, that had made her take this drastic step.

He knew that he had been irresponsible, not to check on the facts before publishing them.....but it was too late.

He kept a picture of her on his board ever since..... reminding him not to repeat that mistake ever again.

                           ----- MocktailMommy Prasanna

Word Count : 150

                               This post is part of #FridayFotoFiction held jointly by  Tina or Mayuri

Aphonic Adieu

Agent Ron was baffled by the case.

 How I wish the puppets could speak, thought Ron. A famous ventriloquist was found dead amongst his puppets!

No signs of force. Insider job? The artist was a loner, though!

Notice Board in the study appeared deadly alive. Four things caught Ron’s attention; mind map of dialogues, snaps of stage, excel sheet and heavily crossed out photos.

Delving deeper, the secret spoke up!

Ms Linda was caught. She confessed to the crime when shown the excel sheet.

The artist and Ms Linda had parted ways a long while ago. After other failed relationships, she was penniless. She had details of artist’s account. Being busy, artist realized it quite later. Fuming, he called her up. She agreed to settle everything over dinner. Upon finishing dinner, he took her to studies. Before he could turn, whoosh went silencer gun.

The ventriloquist bade an aphonic adieu. 
------ By MocktailMommy Anagha
Word count: 150 words
This post is part of #FridayFotoFiction held jointly by  Tina or Mayuri

Cycle & Recycle

A cycle is the simple solution to some of the world’s most complicated problems. 

Is this what the cycle is silently screaming in RED

Spotted this old cycle refurbished with recycled items. It stood there with pride and a post "Re - cycle" just behind it, hanged on a tree trunk. 

----By MocktailMommy Anagha

Linking this post to #WorlessWednesday