Have you ever realised how much a clothesline can speak to you? During my college/working(Office days) my journey from home to the city would take me around an hour to forty five minutes, and it was during this journey that I would notice this particular house and every morning the clotheslines would be full up with clothes just freshly washed and flapping merrily in the wind. It was a lovely terraced house.
 During my college days the same house and its clotheslines would be full of jeans and jeans and loads of towels and football t-shirts and everything that a teenager would love to wear, I realised that this particular house was full of youngsters and the washload was a huge one. Over the years, the clothes lines changed its shades from teenagers outfits to working adults clothes, proper long sleeved shirts it had all the trappings of working people living within. For sometime it was just a ladys' saree and a mans pygama kurta, which told me that the youngsters had flown the nest.
 All this time automatically i was drawn to the right side of the bus window and rapt in attention to watch "The Clothesline speak to me", I gave up my working life and decided to be a stay home mom, i did remember the clothesline very often but the kids and housework kept me very busy besides it ws really out of the way to take a trip down that side.
 One day on my way to market out of sheer curiosity I decide to take time out to find out more and what a surprise there was a huge load of babies clothes drying bibs, nappys, dresses and little towels. What a journey that was ? A couple of years later noticed that this house was locked up and empty. My mind went thru so many moments of flashbacks the happiness the house was a mute witness to. Have you ever tried this ? every little stone and tree tells a story, We have to just listen and watch.


            “Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.” ― Dr. Seuss

Its awfully hard to answer the question "Whats wrong?", when nothings right.Have you been in that space ? For me its a yes, and out of sheer force of habit the answer just goes"Nothing, I'm fine". Time and again I have told myself to try and answer right, so what if you think the other is not ready for the answer, so be it. Many a time we try and play the role of a martyr, in the hope of attaining sainthood. Many a time I have let a lot of hurt just there trying to go inside the mind of the other person"Oh come, maybe a little stressed out, things will fall in place soon" trying to console myself little releasing that I will explode one day when the pressure has built up..something akin to pressure cooker. Its up to us to allow the other person to hurt us

"No one can hurt you without your permission"Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi.

Sometimes our own state of mind can decide how badly we can be hurt, we maybe emotionally vulnerable our personalities maybe be the sensitive type or we maybe placed on the other side of the spectrum. Which ever way we are lets Forget the people who hurt us and spend time with people who make us happy.

It was one of the few pleasant funerals that I have been to, I say pleasant as the dead person was an elderly gentleman, who lived a life of discipline and order. At the time of the farewell, it was a bit teary that was okay considering that the whole evening they held back their tears and were composed. Death comes so swiftly and are we ready ? Death knows no time and we have to resign ourselves to it .“Life is for the living. Death is for the dead. Let life be like music. And death a note unsaid.” ― Langston Hughes, The Collected Poems