Don't eat with wicked men

I was returning from work yesterday. The society was adorned with bright colours and DJ music as 'Shri Ram was coming back to Ayodhya'. Makes me wonder where was he all these years.

The ladies were having communal dinner at the basement. As usual I made my way to the elevator, pretending not to have seen them.

'Sir, please have dinner with us.'

I was slightly surprised. 2 years here and I know the hate and loathe hid behind their smiles. No one really invites me over for dinner or their functions. Infact whem I moved here an active area of discussion was why a non Gujarati was rented out a home. 

Probably, they thought I was from the 'other side' and wanted to celebrate the victory

In a moment I saw threw the loving smiles. I politely refused, for the food will turn poison in my stomach

Memories Die

Early morning phone calls means bad news mostly, especially when you have old people in your family. 31st December was not expected to bring such a news. I was to sit at home and ruinate on the memories. But the phone rang. It was turn of my uncle, father’s eldest brother. I planned to meet him on the last trip but couldn’t. 

20 years ago my grandparents passed away and now it’s the turn of the generation above me. I might labour and struggle until my turn arrives in the next few decades. 

When the new of passing away of my uncle came, with him ended years of family feud, mainly started over the partition of land. That was the period dad felt isolated mentally. We, as kids, also struggled to digest the ugly side of relationships. The joy and innocence of childhood gave way to the realities and greed of life. We moved away from ancestral property, and with time sold off the land. 

Thankfully, Dad and his brother came to peace during the last days