An old man I knew.

In memory of late Saifuddin Uncle Lotia…

There was an old man I knew,
He had the smartest walk in town,
A walk, so straight and tall,
Yet, he wasn’t proud, at all.

A man so humble, in his words,
Yet, sarcasm filled the air,
His smile, so light and fresh,
That no one minded, what he had said.

A man a teacher not,
Yet he taught me a great more lot,
Not by words or formulas that I saw,
But in, the character and shape he sought.

He was a silent man, with a lot of work,
A space in corner, in his office, I recall,
His chair is silent, but something lives,
On his table, his presence still reverberates.

On his funeral, the town had crowded,
For his service and work in society was known,
Not in boast, or words that he would have said,
But by what he did, was evident and shown.

No phrases, or words, could ever define him,
For he was more, than one could say,
He lives inside, who knows him by his place,
A place small, yet everything on its own.

From an MSBian,

Ruqaiya Lokhand.

Beautiful beings!

Girls!  As they say you can’t live with them and you cannot live without them.
Their tantrums and adolescent ways at times are exasperating but in the end they are the same baby dolls of their fathers and adoring sisters of their brothers and sweet Cinderella’s of their husbands.
Their likes and their dislikes, their ways and their styles are sometimes baffling but even then they are accepted. We are accepted! 🙂
At every age every step we are different, our attitude our dressing our maturity level, it’s all different. I, living 16 years as a girl want to share my experience.

 On the 14^th of January 1997, my mother says “an angel was born in her and my fathers life”, someone they loved wholly and was the nearest to their hearts. That was me, carrying happiness to their little world.
From 2 to 5, I remember my mother dressing me up for birthday parties. I recall her choosing each and every thing complementing to my dress, from the hair clips to my socks I would be all in a theme. All my friends would be dressed likely; even then we competed for who looked the best.

From 6 to 12, I had become that rowdy tomboyish person, who would hate girl stuff and loved hanging out with cool friends. Like, everything near me should be effervescent, in fact what goes in my mouth should also be very cool or else “puke that out” was the rule! Those dark jeans and glitzy t-shirts with boyish shoes was the dress code, oh yes! And, a cap was a necessity with that bob hair-cut.
At every age, our parents would get to see shocking us; vibrant girls wishing for them to turn into elegant ladies soon.

But from 13 to 14 I did not know what I wanted to be. The mood fluctuations were faster then the KESC fluctuations. Sometimes, it felt like we should put on pretty clothes and get ready for the occasions and sometimes it would just be get away with it in whatever clothes available.  I remember going into a party without accessories and dressing-up, and reaching there I realized I looked ugly for the occasion.
It happened all the time that either we would be over-dressed or would not dress at all. Nevertheless, we would be the center of attention and attraction at all times! J

Now at about 16, I feel I should be dressed and well-maintained all the time. It’s not much time when I myself would be getting wooed you see. Lol! No, but really, there’s this new something coming up in me, which makes me feel I should look good now and then. My hair should be tied up and my eyes shouldn’t look lethargic. My skin should be fresh as a flower and I should be updated with the latest fashion. Today, if I’m out for an occasion my slippers should be appropriate for it, my accessories should be proportional, not too much and not too less. From the nail paint to the hair-do, everything should be panache and classy.  The magic wand had swish-swashed and so our parents were getting a peep of the graceful ladies.

Over the years I and the other girls have skilled and learned. Accepted the mistakes and acknowledged the good stuff. And now, our lives are still going on, slowly and steadily. With certain bumps on the road or sometimes the frictionless smooth road. There is so much to witness and experience. And I am still waiting for the many doors to open in my life which would mold me into a better being and would groom me inside out.

Maria Sadri