Call from her

Barbara Beacham is the kind host of Monday’s Finish the Story. Every week a photo and the first sentence of the story is shared and the challenge is to finish the story in 100 – 150 words. Thanks Barbara for this week’s photo and the challenge.

Finish the story begins with:  “Arriving at the beach, she reflected on her life.”

“Why am I here? What am I doing here?” she said.

She took out her cell phone.

“My sweet baby. Why did you leave us and go? I should have protected you from everything. I’m your mom.” she said.

With a heavy heart she started walking towards the sea. She stood deep in it. The dark blue water first ate her body and then slowly swallowed her head. Her eyes… now closed.

She was happy; she was running after her little baby.

“Don’t go away Jamie. Come to mommy.” she screamed loudly.

“Are you alright, hon?” asked James.

“Oh! It was Jamie. I so wish that I never wake up from these dreams. It is the only time that seems real to me.”

James took her in his arms as she cried the whole night.


Copyright – Barbara Beacham

A great thanks once again to Barbara. Thanks to all my readers for their time and comments too.

Listen to the advice but don’t leave your brains

Advice is free

It can be good or bad.

Only when followed; it will make you happy or sad.

Someone told me to fly and think high.

I sat at the top of a building.

Yes, I was high about to fly.



Someone pulled me from behind.

The next day I was standing in a line.

My mom yelled in front of everyone, “Don’t you have brains!”

So I learnt advice is good to give but when follow use your brains.

MJ and a Life Chapter

MJ is my next door neighbor and he often storms into my house, unannounced.He is a great storyteller and is really good at it. I enjoy his ramblings. Plus he is an adorable six year old kid.

This time his story – spending time with his father on a Saturday, fishing by the river. He said, “Just me and dad, went fishing.”

“So how many fish did you catch?” I asked him.

“No! I didn’t catch fish. I got stones from there. Dad said that water is dangerous and cold and I should be sitting on the stool. I got bored and started collecting the stones.”

“So, Jake how many stones did you get?” I asked.

“I got a whole box. Come with me I’ll show them to you.”

On his request I went with him to his house.

There they are and he pointed towards his garden. He had painted the stones and placed them in the garden. Colourful stones – small, big, red, yellow, green, dotted, lines all placed in the garden. I was impressed with MJ’s talent and told him that one day he will be a great landscape artist. He gave me a big smile.

A few days after MJ came to my house again. I knew he had something to tell me. I asked him, “What’s the matter MJ? Where had you been?”

“Nowhere, I was busy shopping with mom and aunt. They took me to buy veggies and fruits.”

“What all did you buy?” I asked knowing that he would share it anyways.

“Do you know Mr.D this time I got to pick some tomatoes from there. Mom gets very angry when I touch things in the shop but Aunt Liz showed me how to pick them up. She got a basket and we filled it. She said that I picked some real good tomatoes and gave me some to eat as a reward for my work.” MJ was very happy with his experience and after some time went back home.

That day MJ taught me something. In life, when you get tomatoes eat them. And when you get stones paint them and use them rather than sulk in them. At any cost Jake just enjoyed and displayed his talent.

Gibber-Jabber of a Story

She was holding a red watering can. The water from the can fell on the green leaves like tiny colourless bullets.

“Momme,” said a sweet voice and she turned to look at her little girl. “Yes, sugar,” said the mom.

“Flas, no flas… why no flas?” asked the five year old. The sentence – a broken speech – still, made sense to the mom. The small little fingers were now pointing towards a marigold plant.

“Sugar, momme needs to water them and take care of them.”

“Likes flas…want flas,” the little girl’s voice said with a little bit of sadness.

“Oh! My baby, come here,” said the mother and took her in her arms. “Now look, momme loves sugar and so….momme kisses her, reads stories for her, plays with her and then gives cookies to her. Yes.”

“Yes!” shouted her darling daughter.

“So, if you want flowers you’ll need to help momme.”

“How,” said the curious one.

“You’ll have to water the plant…” “…like momme,” interrupted the sweet voice.“Yes, but that’s momme’s job you are a big girl and you get a bigger job. Do you want to help momme?”

“Yes,” said the little girl.

“Then…first give momme a big kiss and then give a flying kiss to the plant.” The little girl obediently kissed her mom and then gave a flying kiss to the plant. The little girl now on her feet, started wandering in the garden. Her mom took the watering can and continued with her work.

The next day she could hear the sweet voice coming from the garden. She was a bit concerned as to whom her daughter was talking to. She ran in the direction of the voice. She was satisfied to see that her daughter was alone and not with any stranger.

“Sugar, what are you doing here? Mom was worried,” she said in a concerned voice. On approaching near she saw what her little girl was doing. Her daughter was holding a story book. It seemed, she was reading a story to the plant.

The mom leaned to kiss the daughter’s soft silky hair. She sat by the steps and watched her little girl read the story to the plant in her own gibber jabber language.

Who’s sorry?

Mom, what’s the matter? Yesterday I had a voice mail from you. Sorry, couldn’t make a sense of it. Could catch only this part, though – I’m sorry. I should’ve told you months ago. Bye. Why had you called and sorry for what?

Honey, do you remember uncle Ben.

Yah! I remember…him. He had taken some money from me.

Yes, him…

You had insisted so much so I had to. So, when is he returning my money?

You see…that’s why I had called you.

Ok, mom you sound serious. Is he giving me the money or not?

Sweetie, I’m sorry. He is no more. He died.

That’s bad! I mean I’m sorry. So how did it happen?

Few months back.

What! And you remembered it now.

Yes, I remembered it when I was looking at his photo. That’s why I had called you yesterday. You were not there so I left the message.

Mom, just to be sure…he was alone, right?

Yah, honey he was.

No sons, no daughters or any other relatives.

No… no one. I had never seen him with anyone. So, he was all alone. Poor soul.

Yah!poor soul. Ok, ma got to keep. Bye.

Bye honey. Take care.

Best birthday ever

Mom’s are the sweetest things ever, they are the best gift from God. My mom, she is a mixed combo of sweet, sour, tangy and chilly emotions. No, she is no dish but she is one weird being. There are times when she’ll go out of the way to do things for me and she is this sweet candy bar to me.

Then there are times when inspite of me telling her ten thousand times not to do a particular thing….what will she do? She will end up doing the same exact thing that I have told her not to do. So I associate this stubborn nature of hers as being tangy and sour.

And then there are days when she is just fiery, flaming, hot chilly. This is the only time when I’m scared of her. No reasoning helps her to understand me or my situation. This is the only time when she dominates me.

Yes, I know Mother’s day is over but do you need just one special day to remember or tighten this great bond. No, I don’t think so. Whenever you find the time you should try to strengthen this bond or any bond that is special to you.

The other day I went to one of my friend’s birthday party and that’s when I remembered her- my mom.

I remembered that she would wake up early to make me my favourite pancakes on my birthdays. School seemed to be very boring than usual as I knew something delicious was waiting for me at home. And yes, I was right as I arrived home mom would serve me pulao (rice made with chopped vegetables and dry fruits) and chicken curry. A short nap was followed after lunch and when I woke up it was homework time. Since it was a special day I got leave from studying. Then along with others I would cut my birthday cake, enjoy, play and the hectic day filled with fun would come to an end. The dinner would be served with my favourite sweet dish…kheer (a kind of rice pudding).

The veg pulao dish

The veg pulao dish (rice made with veggies and dry fruits)

Kheer (another rice dish which is sweet)

Kheer (another rice dish which is sweet)







The menu for my birthday remained the same irrespective of whatever my age was. The dishes never lost its taste, never seemed to be boring or too simple. Inspite of it being repeated every time once a year I never once felt that it should be stopped.

Now the independent and grown up person that I have become I celebrate this day as it pleases me. I would go shopping, watching movie with friends or go on a vacation…anything that is away from usual.

I still remember those birthdays spent with her. There was no money involved to make me happy then but there was her love and affection that made my day so special. Her sparkling smile with the good morning kiss and the birthday wish would fill me with the fountain of positivity. Though I might dine at a famous restaurant on my birthday, eat an expensive dish or receive a precious gift…all this put together will never be able to equate those birthdays spent with my mom.

Although she visits me sometimes, which is atleast once or twice a year. She would off and on cook my favourites during her visits. However, the alignment of my special birthday menu on that very special day hasn’t come to life in a very long time (ever since I moved out of home).

Do you have two minutes?


There are days when I’m busy and then there are days when I try to be busy and still there are days when I’m partially free and then absolutely free.

On free days, there is no need to worry because it means less work or no work, at all. These are the days when I pamper myself to the fullest. Going for a beauty treatment, shopping therapy, watching your favourite shows, sleeping at undisturbed lengths, enjoying some music…what a free day…hmm! Nice.

Then comes partially free days; when I think I’m free but I’m not completely free. These days are not completely relaxing as you dangle between being relaxed and occupied in work. Here you get just enough nap to energize yourself. You manage to watch your favourite shows but not sitting relaxed in a couch; you keep running around the house or in the kitchen cooking, with just enough volume to keep you engaged and give you the illusion that you are watching your favourite show. This happens as you run after the kids, helping them with their homework, taking your pet for a refreshing stroll. You are tied between “not working and still working” not in office virtually but creating a confused environment for your mind “at home, but still in office and working”.

Next, is when I try to be free. Let me explain that with an example. These are the days when you expect your in-laws. You don’t have anything to do and when you see your MIL approaching towards you, you make an excuse about some work and leave. You try to sit with your laptop creating an illusion to make them (your wife or your husband or even the in- laws) believe that you are busy with some work. You wait for them to ask, “Are you busy with something?” Oh! Yes, I’m busy (I’m just pretending…but I’ve just fooled you…haha!). Children are an exception. Let me assure you that you cannot fool children. If you play busy with them they’ll play obstinate with you. What or who do you think will win? Obstinate.

Finally, “I’m busy”. This is such a common statement that it is the best medicine for ignoring a person or a situation. Do you have time to come and visit me? No, mom I’m busy. But I’m actually busy. Do you have time to come for Aunt Benny’s birthday party? No, mom I’m busy working and will not get any leave. Not that, I don’t want to go but tell me a face that I don’t know there. Tell me if the party will have something new to it. This is not a time when I want to get even with Aunt Benny, when she gave me a gift that made me feel two years older than I already was in my teens or she forgot to give me a gift as a child (if I remember that was much better). My mom came to visit me and she asked, “Do you have two minutes to sit with me?” I would have said, “No, I’m busy.”

This time I did something that I normally don’t do when saying my golden statement. I saw…I looked at my mom…then a feeling of guilt circled my heart. I could see that she was bored, may be a little lonely but she did not complain. I thought she could have complained but she did not. She could have asked for anything else but she just asked for my “time”.

So, I gave her my time and company. Took a leave for couple of days…went shopping, bought her a bag and a pair of shoes ( she liked it very much), planned out an outing …me,mom and my sis. Now I remember the past time as “happy bonding time”. I was happy to see my mom leaving with couple of snaps of ours and taking a “happy memorable time” with her.

I saw me


 Who is this person sitting by the window, staring at life and does not notice me (good that’ how I want it to be). As I walk closer, I notice that she is wearing a fuming face. Even before I could ask her, “Why or what made you wear that look?” I could see her expressions changing.


I could see her face had now expressions of guilt and sorry. I was looking at her for the past half an hour; I had not noticed any change in her body movement. The only thing that changed was her expression.

Her long sitting posture was interrupted, when a fly sat on her arms and she just raised her arms to let away the fly. Now, I saw her body, which was sleeping in a sitting position for half an hour, was moving towards the dressing table.

For the first time I saw her reflection on the mirror. It was me. Was, I having an outer body experience or am I dead (was my thought). How is it possible? I guess I don’t have the answer.

But, all this while I used to think that I’m a happy person. I saw her dragging herself to the cupboard and taking a dress out of it. She was staring at the dress, as if her thought was to abandon this dress right now (although I knew this was her favourite dress).

I heard someone knocking at the door. The voice said, “Are you ready, we are getting late?”

This was my mother’s voice. Now I understood what had upset me.


I just remembered that half an hour ago I had a very steaming argument with my mother. Now that is a usual scene in my house. What was I thinking then, it is always about them (parents) and sometimes it’s about me. I don’t understand them nor do I get the same understanding in return. No matter how hard I try it is always a one way road, and so it is equally difficult for both of us (mom and me).


I thought that the only way to make my mom unhappy was to make her angry. Till date I’ve found two ways to make her angry: first by arguing and second by simply doing the opposite of what she asks me to do. I thought by doing these things I would have made myself happy because I was making my mom unhappy.


But, what I saw didn’t match with my kind thoughts. I saw that it had made me angry (a normal reaction I think), guilty (that in some way it was not a right behavior), sad (cause I had hurt the feelings of the one person who means a lot to me) and then sorry (but that was a feeling, never had I seen it transforming to word).

Today, as I had watched me, I understood that feeling sorry was important but saying was equally important.

I saw me opening the door. I saw the expression of guilt on my face. I was ready to say sorry, for my actions, but she stood stiffly. She thought that without saying sorry mom was suppose to understand and forgive her actions. But I knew if I didn’t say sorry I would not know if she had forgiven me or not.


Then I saw an expression that I had never seen on her face. She was about to do something that she had never done. “I’m sorry,” she said. That’s it; I was so relieved to hear that. Finally, her face was lit up with guilt free smile as she hugged her mother.