I am the most peculiar creature of all.... I always want for what is not...:)

Let me quote a few day to day instances I have witnessed that stands testimony to my title.

1. My sister had come to Blore from hostel for two days. Her AIEEE entrance exam center was here. She was a hosteler for two years. So dirty plates in middle of room is culture, clothes all over bed is way of life, crumpled bedsheets is 'cool' and to top it all, her dead cells greeting me every time I take my comb is 'fun'. Now that I am err.. professional and organised (forgetting my four years of history at hostel) I cribbed fired and fired and fired her every single time. for every single thing. Now that she has gone home to my parents', I miss her. I love her despite all her shabbiness and yearn for her (yeah, dirt comes free, I understand). I need my sister when she is not, I am the most peculiar creature of all.

2. "Preeti, I am on leave tomorrow", when these heavenly words are uttered by my boss, my joy is boundless. The same joy that Obama has when Bush invites him for a dinner date, the same joy that Aiswarya Rai Bachchan has on actually 'acting' and getting appreciated, the same joy that Harbhajan has when Sreeshanth hugs him..get the joy thing now right? But when the day at office dawns, and people wait like a pack of hungry leopards to pounce and tear you with questions, document details, technical clarifications, site problems, motor ratings and the list goes on.. The balloon of joy gets deflated at an exponential rate. I need my boss when she is not, I am the most peculiar creature of all.

3. I Love the weather when it is bright and sunny. So Mr. sun shows me extra love , more and more each day. So I need to tell him NOT to be over giving. But no, Mr Sun never listens and shines till 50 deg C. Then suddenly it starts raining. Cats and dogs. My laundered clothes get a second free wash. I curse Mr Sun for betraying me. I am the most peculiar creature of all, I always want for sun, when he is not.

This post shall be updated till time eternal..

PINK

This is my first albeit meek and sincere attempt at short story writing. I would like everyone who reads this post to leave a true comment. Thanks in advance.

Maya was late. She panicked on seeing the time, cursing herself for watching a late night movie and over sleeping, also making a mental resolution never ever to do so again, at least on the day of meeting Prem. Maya and Prem were going strong for 6 years now. They started as good friends and slowly yet serenely, the friendship blossomed to an intimacy beyond imagination, they becoming soul mates each heart beating for the other, each pulse throbbing for the other. Maya had a fascination for the color pink. She lived in a posh colossal villa off the shores of Juhu, with a bay window overlooking the waves, which , she felt, always reached out to her to send a message, but receded away coyly, letting silence fill the space. Living room walls were tapered with alternate shades of shocking pink and pale pink, giving a sensual touch to the Da Vinci and Hussain pencil sketches. The couch had a soft touch of pink and glamour blue in an intricately woven fabric of jute handicraft. Her bedroom was meticulously designed having a bedecked wardrobe and a round single bed again matching in vagaries of pink. There she stood confused, what to wear, on such an important day for both her and Prem. She chose a casual pink silk blouse with beige loose pants, then fought with the mirror at different angles and elevations and changed to an off shoulder flowing gown in blood red and pink fabric design, finally settling down on a knee length sleeveless, floral pink and white frock, bought by Prem the previous year on her birthday when things were..
She then had a hasty coiffure and scurried to the kitchen to prepare Prem's favorite breakfast, scrambled eggs with a hint of mint leaves and olives. And a dashing glass of fresh orange juice. She didnt like either the eggs or the juice , but let her eyes feast upon the glow on his face, radiating innumerable feelings of love, adoration and trust. She prepared breakfast singing happily to herself the favorite foot tapping song PINK by Aerosmith. There. The door bell rang. She peeped trough the magic hole , took a deep breath and opened doors to her Prince everything. He can be classified as hot, 6 footer with a great Indian tan and eyes that shone with acuity and truth. He held in his hands a bunch of red and predominantly pink asters, the favorites of Maya. He gave her a warm hug, binding her in a bond ever strengthening with time ad cupped his hands on her chin and kissed her softly. She surrendered to him completely, silent tears of joy wetting her soft blushed pink face. They lay there in each others' arms in the living room, letting each other enjoy the pervading silence and cherishing the moment, wishing time to freeze. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, they interlocked their lip curves once again, washing away fear, loneliness and negativity, if any. They had a silent breakfast, Prem eating and Maya watching with abysmal joy. Later Prem hugged her sensing her fear of the outcome of the important appointment and kissed her forehead, silently walking her up to his porch. She had a surprise waiting on her seat. A pink teddy bear with a cupid in its hands. Her sockets welled up once again. It was a 10 mile drive to the hospital. Appointment with Dr. Radha Srinivas was fixed up a month back and every essential document for the operation was ready. Yes, Maya, like many other Indian women, was an innocent victim of breast cancer. Prem knew of this two years ago, and had stood by her, despite refusal from his parents. He never let trepidation cross the strong walls of his will and lived in hope that Maya will be perfectly fine after the mastectomy. He waited outside the operation theatre, fingers crossed for the red lamp to turn green and the news to fill him with joy.

He waited in hope...
He waited for Maya to come back to him in pink of health and spirits...
He waited...