Chittu Kuruvee Designs by Usha Iyer

                                     Today I take this.off. What I have worn always the last 18+ years means nothing today. What it really meant is questionable anyway! But for me there were sentiments. Till sometime back. It is like slow death… when a relationship dies. First there is a sense of disease. Then denial. Then the symptoms show up again. This time they are hidden. Under laughter and fake smiles, with time chugging along and birthdays and festivals, new clothes and gifts. Then you can’t hide it anymore. You don’t even want to, actually. Gifts are given and received and mathematics is done more carefully than ever. Because the heart has gone out anyway. And we are going through the motions, by force of habit, believing we are giving the kids some childhood memories. But with the heart absent, even those are just like the family pictures. Complete, but missing so much. There’s a story Ma would tell us of her Chitti, who was a super wit. When, after a huge fight, her husband a

She came out of the bath draping a towel around her, suddenly conscious of the heavy chain, her mangalsutra, dangling from her neck. Everything had changed overnight including her marital status. It had all happened very fast, the bride seeing, the engagement and then the wedding within just a span of three months. Much against her father’s advice, she had told her (then prospective) husband, in private, during bride-seeing, that she was NOT willing to WORK and would like to happily manage the household. He had also been supportive and left the decision to her. She had seen her mother toiling at home and at school as a teacher. She herself had worked in an MNC till recently, but knew she wouldn’t enjoy it with all the stress involved. Now it was all going to be different, completely different. Apart from being a loving wife and a responsible daughter-in-law, she was also looking forward to fulfilling all her dreams and her passion for art, nurtured for so long.. Wearing a b

नारी-मन को 'रहस्यों का पिटारा' कहा जाए तो कोई अतिशयोक्ति नहीं होगी । प्रत्येक नारी अपने मन में न जाने कितने रहस्यों का भार लिए घूमती रहती है । उस दिन के.जी विभाग से गुज़रते हुए कक्षा में एक नया चेहरा दिखा । हंसमुख चेहरा, लेकिन चेहरे में एक झिझक नज़र आई जो नए-नए काम करनेवालों के चेहरे में होती है । पता चला कि पहलेवाली अध्यापिका को अचानक नौकरी छोड़नी पड़ी, इसलिए इसकी नियुक्ति अस्थायी रूप से हुई है । आनेवाले दिनों में देखा कि वह अध्यापिका बच्चों से अच्छी तरह घुलमिल गई है, जिसका नाम लता था । बच्चे उसके आगे-पीछे घुमते, खाने के वक्त उसे बच्चों को खिलाते देखा । एक दो बच्चे उसकी गोद में भी दिखाई पड़े । बच्चों को पास बिठाकर लिखाती-अढ़ाती रहती । मन निश्चिंत हुआ, क्योंकि इतने छोटे बच्चों के लिए अध्यापिका का मिलना कठिन होता है । एक साल से ज़्यादा कोई टिकता ही नहीं था । बढ़-चढ़कर सबकी मदद करती ।हम सब अध्यापिकाएँ उसे पसंद करने लगे । यों ही दिन गुज़रते गए, वह स्थायी रूप से नियुक्त हो गई । उसके दो बच्चे, एक बेटा और एक बेटी इसी स्कूल में पढ़ रहे थे । बेटा आठवीं में था और बेटी दसवीं में । बेटा कुछ शैतान और

Ha!! That was a meeting no one will not forget in a hurry. One that the seniors will tell their juniors about whenever possible. Years later, those who were in the meeting will tell their versions of the same meeting as a story they were a part of, like people talk about the World Cup victory or some other event they really were not part of. But that is where the whole fun of storytelling is! Right? But hey! I am exaggerating! It wasn't really that type of a historic event. Certainly not impacting (did the World Cup victory impact us in any way? I don’t know!) too many people in that meeting room. Actually it impacted just 4 of us. Of which 3 were to be impacted for just over 3 weeks.  The only person in the middle of all this, whose life might be impacted forever, is only one person. Me!! I, Kriti, 44, Senior VP, Sales & Marketing, in this fancy multinational firm (name withheld for reasons of privacy) that sells stuff the children mustn't really eat(but that’s not the poi

“What fun to be sitting here like this! And wearing these clothes,” thought Purnima to herself. “What would they think in Ponchanontola? And her employer? She would have a fit!” She remembered the day she had gone to work in a long skirt and a pretty top. “You’ve come to clean my house. Not to a party,” her employer had sneered. “Don’t pretend to be who you aren’t.” Deepa, the girl who lived next door, had helped Purnima open a bank account. “Make sure you save some money every month,” Deepa had advised her. “Don’t tell your family how much you earn.” Deepa went to college and unlike most other young women in their locality didn’t think of sex, marriage and movies all the time. She wanted to have a good job and be free. Actually, Purnima often didn’t understand what Deepa talked about but she was impressed all the same. Deepa was quite a bit younger than Purnima but knew so much more. Purnima had saved a thousand rupees a month for the last three years in a recurring deposit account an

It was a dark rainy night in the month of June 2018. A man of about sixty was sitting in an armchair in front of the door that lead to the balcony. He had an album in his hand and was going through each picture very lovingly as it was the only possession he had with him that moment. Suddenly the phone rang, which shook him out of his present stance. Simultaneously a photograph blew out of the album and fell right at his feet. The man picked up the phone, his eyes never leaving the photograph and read what was written on it, “The lady with those mesmerising eyes.” There was silence on the other end but the man could feel her presence. He uttered, “My Lady Love, what a dramatic or should I say romantic way to register your presence and that too on this stormy night?What a coincidence, I was looking at you only, my Lady Love!” A husky soft female voice at the other end answered with a smile, “Do you remember the sketch in your hand, which you had gifted to me on our wedding night?...Stra

"Are you sure, darling?"asked Nirupama. “Yes, amma”, uttered Kavya. Nirupama lovingly ran her fingers through her daughter's pretty ponytails and whispered in Kavya's ear, "nothing at all? I am going to the market. Just name it and I will get it.“ Kavya looked at her mother's beauteous face and commanded, ”AMMA, I don't want anything, am I clear?” Nirupama dissimulated to get vexed.  “Amma, you are a very bad actress,” chortled Kavya and instantly mother and daughter burst into laughing which filled the whole room ….just as the the rays of dawn spreads and illuminates the earth. Nirupama hugged her daughter. “Okay dear, then I am going….you complete your English homework. Appa will reach home soon…..okay laado …” Kavya grinned and nodded her head. Happiness has always been a mother daughter time. Kavya always wondered whether she loved her mother more or her mother loved her more. Let me read my Literature lesson first. Kavya liked her English teacher- Mr

I was back in Chennai, my parents’ home for holidays. The brand-new term at the UK university had peeled off my confidence. Was it my accent or the way I dressed? I was awkward there and so, I sulked here full-time. My parents worried having failed to cheer me up. And now, Amma said that our neighbour Sharada Akka would drop in. Uff! Why? Sharada Akka, with her too-well-oiled, centre-parted hair. Her soft dull cotton sarees pulled around her shoulders. So boring, so ordinary. But Amma’s eyes pleaded.  After tea, Sharada Akka and I sat in our backyard cement bench.  “When I moved from my small-town Trichy to Delhi for my M.A., I too felt out of place” Oh, not her life history now She continued “It was the 90s. All my new classmates teased me. Madrasi-that’s how I was called. Something came over me and one day I went to a cheap goldsmith. He pierced my ears-three on each lobe. It was the trend those days and I wanted to be like them. I bought 3 pairs of oxidized silver rings and wore the

Maa was always well groomed... her hip long hair coiled up in a bun, starched, crisp, choicest Indian handloom sari, a few red glass bangles coupled with her gold ones, tiny silver toe-rings to carry on the tradition, a bright kumkum bindi, and a dazzling diamond nose pin. A literate and intelligent woman, she chose to be a stay-at-home mom nurturing her family with such selfless care and love. Thoroughly methodical and calm, she handled the cooking so effortlessly and in a serenely disciplined manner.  But she was mindful enough to have her *Me Time* indulging in reading, knitting and watching her favourite soaps. I so fondly recollect peeping (for that comforting satisfaction and security that she was there) into her room where she would be resting only after making sure there was food on the table for me - complete with the thali etc. I did this unfailingly throughout my school, college days, in fact even when I started working, so really till her last day! Gosh! That caressing feel

From the time she was a child, Shalini had loved the ritual of making jasmine garlands. The flower seller would come and measure out the jasmine buds and then in the evening, her mother and aunt would settle down to make the garlands. 3 long ones for the gods’ pictures, and 4 smaller ones – for the two of them, Shalini and her sister. How swiftly their fingers would move to wind the string around the flower buds. They would have bloomed by the next morning and the whole house would be fragrant with the almost intoxicating smell of jasmine. Her mother would plait her daughters’ hair, then raise one thick strand and insert the garland through the gap. Most days, she would make two plaits for Shalini, and the garland would be strung from one plait to the other. Shalini preferred the days when her mother ran out of time and just made one plait, because then one end of the garland would flap around her shoulder, and she could smell it if she just turned her head a bit.  After she got marrie

If these flowers could speak they’d have a lot to say about last evening! Even saying that sounds amusing - just to think what all that could have meant!  When the parlour lady pinned them to my hair, she said, “ mazaa aa gaya. Aapkey joodey mein kya mast lagtey hain yeh phool! Perfect matching bhi! Sir dekh ke khush ho jaayengey !” I had rushed back from work, picking these flowers up on my way. Who gets married in this horrible weather!!! Friday evening party too! Chee! It was a reception we had to attend. Had to!!  I wore my new white chikankari saree, so fresh to look at, but not really cool. Lest family or hosts take it badly, I wore a red bindi and red bangles to complete the look. And some light jewellery. My long hair needed help (it was Friday!), therefore the quick visit to the neighbourhood parlour to make a neat bun of the mess. He picked me up from the parlour. At the reception, we made all the right moves, meeting the elders together and so on. Laughed too. I even enjoyed

पलकें झुकी, झुका मेरा अंतर्मन  किया अर्पण तन और मन  यकीन था की आ गई  ऋतू खुशिओयों की झम झम क्यूँ फिर लगने सा लगा  की जैसे बंद हूँ चार दीवार में  सांस रुकी और कभी चली  बिन किसी एहसास के मेरे मन चल उठ फिर से  लगाएं एक और हुंकार  पुकार लें खुशियों को बिना किये इंतज़ार **** I lowered my eyes  And my heart Anticipating glee  Was beating fast Fleeting as it was The space felt cramped With every breath, why  Came the discontent Buckle up my heart As there is much to do Hoot for pleasures Which have gone far too ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have been sitting on this chair for the past four hours. I am expected to be very patient as I sit in a rehearsal, waiting for my chance. I do have a smile on my face, in case anybody thinks otherwise. I am bored out of my mind, extremely restless and supremely irritated. Don’t worry, I have the lead role. Apparently, the entire story is supposed to be about me but I hardly have 10 full minutes on stage. Technically, I can be referred to as arm candy.  I am so sweaty in this shiny plain white saree, holding a mala of flowers, wilting with each second in this heat. I am supposed to be the young, demure and ideal woman waiting for my husband to come rescue me. I am supposed to work on my ‘sad face’ for a 2 mins scene before this huge, burly man comes to save my life and takes the spotlight. Again, I am the so-called ‘lead’. I am very grateful for this role, my only ‘big’ role in the past two years. Right now, I can only think of the huge bag of laundry waiting for me back home. To thi

As she sat on her favourite rocking chair, the smell of jasmine wafted to her nose. The soft musings of the breeze filled her with happiness as always. The drops of rain falling on her face were like blessings of abundance from the Universe. This portion of the balcony has always been her own slice of heaven in this place which has become her second home, soon to become her first, a few years from now. Breeze, winds always brought out the wild side of her; which she always lets loose when she spends her vacation in the hills in this beautiful homestay. This sojourn of hers in the lap of mother nature always fills her with a sense of calm which nowadays she manages to carry within her even when she goes back to the plains. Duty had always beckoned to her and she has been fulfilling them. Though nowadays, she has started fulfilling her duty towards herself as well. A warm hand on her shoulder made her turn around with a smile. He stood there with a tray in his hands, smiling; as she had

Holding on to the edge of the wall she stood looking at nowhere. How long would be this waiting?........... Saanika grew up in an old European mansion, located beside the beach, which her grandfather had bought from a Portuguese merchant after Independence. A typical Mumbai bred girl, very independent in her views and attitude, she went to specialise in veterinary sciences in Texas. She still remembers the first day she unfolded her plans to her mother. Her mother was in the kitchen. Saanika was back from her daily pet visits. It was dinner time, and Mrs Desai was warming the food for her daughter and herself. Very casually she had told her mother, “Mumma, I want to go for my MS. The University of Texas is offering a scholarship.” Mrs Desai froze for a moment. Couldn’t believe her ears. What was her daughter saying? How could she think of leaving her and go? This huge house had only two inhabitants for the past ten years, after Saanika’s father had left them. Silently they had eaten th

खुद पे गुरुर है जो मेरा  कभी टूटा और कभी बिखरा भी  टुकड़े उठाये, जोड़े और  मैं फिर बड़ चली  मेरी मुस्कराहट पे तो जा  बड़ी मुश्किल से पायी है  दर्द मिले कई जो ज़िन्दगी से  उनपे जीत की परचम लहराई है ।

She picked up the crying baby. The people of this house didn't come to her room without much fuss. They didn't pick up the baby even if they heard her crying. They were scared that their impurities might contaminate the divine body. They had stopped calling her by her name. When she came down the stairs, they would move and make way for her. The beloved daughter-in-law suddenly turned into an object of reverence. She tried to protest but the mother-in-law folded her hands into a gesture of prayer, " Please let us do our penance, we did not realize who you are".  It all started when she felt the baby in her womb. She remembered the day. She had suddenly looked at her husband and said, ”I might be pregnant”. He smiled with his eyes "How do you know? " She said, "It feels like it". The doctor declared that she really was two months pregnant. It was the count of month that brought some whispers in the family. For her husband got leave from the a