The Room


One day I was sitting in my wife’s office a room converted from a kitchen into a bedroom/study/office/storeroom the littlle room performed every role thrown at it with aplomb never giving us a chance to complain. Now if the room was performing multiple roles with such elan in a corporate it would get promoted into a bigger room every year with its ultimate goal to be the chairman’s room getting the best interior design of the office. Now isn’t it the ultimate ambition of every room or house to be done up better than than the houses it knows. I can vouch for the fact as being an interior designer by profession I have seen houses go in a sulk if not satisfied with what was done it. Screws  start coming loose, cracks start forming on freshly painted walls and the client complaint are numerous. Now if the house is satisfied then no cracks or screws come loose no cracks or complaints. The client is happy I am relived. 

While poor room done up minimally as compared to the rest of the house has never complained, it’s precisely 84 sq ft of space crammed with a sofa cum bed, two steel cupboards under a overhead storage with a folding shelf thrown in for good measure which my wife uses as her desk. And how can I forget the bags 

Packed before a trip or empty after waiting to be put away with unopened Amazon cartons adding to the clutter. But it has never protested taking in its stride the step motherly treatment meted out to it and welcoming everyone with its door wide open. Even in the recent renovation all it got was a paint job but it did not protested remaining cheerful as always.After so much the room had done for us we  decided to honor its loyalty to the family and stellar service by   doing something nice for it. 

So a hurried family conference was called with my sister staying with us ready with her two cents and my nephew with his four. The meetings was called to order and numerous ideas were thrown around With I being the family’s spendthrift wanted to give it a nice fresh coat of paint but my dad who does not like to see money spent  came up with umpteen excuses as to why we should not. And Dads    Veto is generally the final word it was accepted with few grumblings but the question still remained as how do we  honor it. Again Various ideas were thrown around like garlanding it or using a good room freshener or writing something for it and pasting it on its walls but with each one getting shot down with utter contempt by Dad.  Finally my sister apple of Dads  eye who was staying with us for a few days with her son the apple of my eye came up with a proposal to decorate the room like you would on someone’s birthday and cut  a cake. Her way of having her cake and eating it too nudge nudge wink wink. 

But how do you decide a rooms birthday? I mean which date would be correct, the day the building was completed or the day we bought the flat or the day we actually came to live here. Too much confusion, so my wife came up with a solution which all instantly agreed upon that is as our nephew was staying with us it to celebrate the next day itself. So on the big days morning my wife and her little helper started decorating the room and a cake was ordered. 

At six pm we decided to start the celebrations and the room looked beautiful, my wife does not do anything halfway. The cake was opened candle stuck and lit with our little monkey blowing it on behalf of the room. Now the birthday song was with me calling it a room (when you take a name) immediately my sister piped in my bedroom, my wife not to me outdone said my office with dad claiming it as his study and finally my nephew piped up “it’s myyy room” and that settled it. For no one argues with the true boss of the house and cake was cut eaten we all filed out feeling good about ourselves at having done something for the room. 

I went back with a sliver and placed the plate in the room as I switched off the lights I heard something. Was it the room? What I will never be sure as I I shut the door letting the room rest on its laurels for the night

About the author

Veeru Chheda

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By Veeru Chheda

Veeru Chheda

About the Author

When I write I lay bare my soul. Amateurish attempts even if. That was my biggest dilemma when I thought of starting a blog. For when you open up deep hidden recesses of your inside, you are judged.

Sure you are applauded a little for what you did right but then the criticism comes in tons for your follies.

For the world is a cruel place indeed!

I have finally decided to go ahead with and post what has encompassed my life recently. Poetry. The words of exhilaration of anguish of tears of laughter of sometimes deep dark expressions waiting for a medium, for an outpour. Paths made of alphabets meandering through melancholy pain betrayal interspersed with brief bursts of bright and beautiful.

Poetry is what but a symphony of the pages with the writer wielding the baton making the words dance to a music that only he hears.

I am a man of contradictions, does that mean I say one thing and do the other? No! I do one thing and also do the other.

Middle age is when you look in the mirror and fret about what you see. At the threshold of old age with triumphs and regrets tucked in your holster You wait gingerly to cross over to the other fight.
When you look back with pleasure and pain and ahead with trepidation and hope.

So Dear Readers, let’s explore this beautiful world of words together. In my blog you will find poetry, short stories, travel reviews and tips and last but not the least Food. Restaurant reviews recipes and much more for I live to eat. For there is nothing more satisfying to soul than a good meal.

Get ready for a kaleidoscope of content but have patience for I have just started and will be posting as the write ups are ready. Please do express your thoughts on what is here anything from The Good The Bad and The Ugly for it will inspire me onwards and upwards. Jai Hind.