WRITER / ILLUSTRATOR
GiddySeriesForGroanups
by Giddymum.
Little reminders for groan ups like you and I.
WHAT DO YOU DO WITH A GRUDGE?
When you have a tiff and a miff and a quarrel and a squabble,
you sometimes begin to hold a grudge.
You hold it for one day.
You hold it for two days.
It feels heavy.
But you continue holding it.
And you don't know why.
Your arms hurt.
Your back hurts.
Your tummy hurts.
But you still hold the grudge.
You try throwing it away.
It returns.
You try to wash it away.
It reappears.
You run.
You hide.
All you think about is the damn grudge.
You are tired.
You stop chasing it away.
You make tea instead.
With some cahā (tea leaves), āalē (ginger), vēlacī (cardamom) and pudina (mint leaves). Maybe a little doodh (milk) and some sākhar (sugar).
It simmers. You listen.
It changes colour. You see.
The aroma of the tea fills up the room. You breathe in. And breathe out a big, fat sigh.
Take a sip. Really really slow.
And then, you devour the deliciousness of your RIGHT NOW.
The Beginning.
LOOPY LOBO
Meet Lobo.
Lobo loves ladoos.
In fact, he loves all kids of ladoos.
Motichoor, besan, rava, rava-besan, til, no-til, naral, ragi, kurmura.
The list is endless.
Lobo also loves living in Loopy Land.
Will this ladoo make me fat?
Will this ladoo make me sad?
Why is my life likes this?
Why is my life not like that?
This isn't fair.
That isn't fair.
Why can I have that?
Why do I have this?
Why am I like this?!
Until, he noticed Little Leila.
Little Leila was devouring her ladoo.
Without a worry in her head.
Nom. Nom.
Gobble. Gobble.
Chomp. Chomp.
Chomp. Chomp.
Gobble. Gobble.
Nom. Nom.
Not a worry in her head.
Lobo stared at his forgotten ladoo.
He took a bite.
Nom. Nom.
And another.
Gobble. Gobble.
And another.
Chomp. Chomp.
Lobo was now in Ladoo Land.
The melt-in-your-mouth moistness of the ladoo melted his sadness.
The aroma of crushed cardamom crushed his fears.
The sweetness of the sugary syrup took the bitterness away.
Lobo savored the ladoo.
For the very first time.
So, when you eat a ladoo.
JUST EAT THE DAMN LADOO.
The Beginning.
THE GIRL WHO WOULDN’T STOP DANCING.
The tiny dancer
on the busy streets
on the wet grass
by the river.
The tiny dancer
on the couch
behind the curtains
by the tall lamp
The tiny dancer
in the elevator
on the stairs
in the dim light.
The tiny dancer
in my arms
behind my smile
may you always dance
your heart away.