Window to the sky

window to the sky

I was sitting inside a restaurant and my eyes caught sight of this small little thing. I wanted to click it. But I was confused if it was inside the window or outside. A careful gaze helped me in ascertaining that it was inside the place.

It kept on dashing against the window thinking it’ll make its way out to the open sky. Poor thing! It was late, but it did find its way out after a lot of flapping around. I couldn’t blame it, as the window seemingly opened into the clear sky.

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.


Ratatouille is a French dish, however, I’m going to share the recipe for Writetatouille which is nothing similar to the original Ratatouille dish. I hope  that you enjoy cooking and eating the dish as much as I did.

As I see outside the window the weather seems to be pleasant to cook a mouth- watering dish. I decide to go, not with sweet gossipy dish but a filling meal for the heart.

So, I decide to make a wonderfully delicious recipe (so, I think every time). As I go not to the kitchen but to the writing desk which is placed right next to my window. It gives me the best view possible, while I’m cooking something in my mind. All, not dressed to kill, but just to write, with the most powerful ladle in my hand, I think.

This metallic ladle oozes out blue liquid in the form of ink is handy to intelligent and common people alike. It’s easily available and ranges in price from low to as high as possible.

While preparing the dish in the wok of blank white sheet of paper, I like to sip a cup of tea. I place the wok of blank sheet of paper in the low flame of my thoughts.

I add a little oil of incidents in the wok, and then I add the chopped vegetables that form the character of my dish. I keep stirring this with simmering thoughts in my mind. It goes on for ten, fifteen minutes or can carry on for half an hour or more than that depending on the colour, thickness and plotting of the dish.

For aroma I’d like to add wonderful spices of instances from my life or others. Let me tell you, these instances are not very difficult to find, as it is readily available in the garden of observation.

I like to give the dish a stir of life and cover it with the lid of thoughts. As the dish is being prepared I relax myself by looking out of the window.

After sometime I take off the lid and give the dish a last stir, and shake it with a good read. In the end I garnish it with leaves of videos, pictures and smilies (where necessary). The lovely dish is finally cooked with great care and tenderizing love.

You can serve it with friends or perhaps like me read it when alone.

You can serve it to the blogs or newspaper or just keep it in a diary for yourself.