Varsha P is a Pune-based HR and Talent Management professional with over 15 years of experience and a Master’s in Human Resource Management from the University of Sheffield & Exec Alumni of IIM-Indore. An avid observer of human behaviour and life’s quieter transitions, she enjoys exploring the intersection of psychology, relationships and everyday experiences through reflective storytelling that is all about the unspoken bonds and silence.
That blue painted wooden bench in that garden had been a silent custodian of confessions and heartbreaks for generations. Nestled in the lap of proud pines and dainty deodars, the spot had been close to home and heart.
Lima parked herself comfortably on the edge of the same bench and tilted her head to scout the whistling thrush perched on the nearby cherry tree. On the same bench, Neelu had wiped away little Lima’s tears whispering, “Red is essential darling. It symbolizes the end of blossoms while the red cherries would make the cycle of nature complete. I would always be with you my girl now that you are to become a woman.”
Lima smiled at how easy her Mommy’s hot chocolate and buttery cinnamon rolls had made the excruciating pain and monthly mood swings vanish. Taking a deep breath, she knew it was her turn to be right there through Neelu’s bumpy new ride of hot flashes. As Neelu approached her, Lima could see the silver curls gently resting on that tired shoulder. As they both hugged, the young mother reassuringly exclaimed, “Mumma, maturity is just a long break in adolescence after all. Let’s rediscover other colors. Pink Blossoms or red cherries, aren’t they just a reminder of how fleeting our insecurities are? Even a rainbow has 7 different colours!”
As Neelu’s moist eyes gleamed with pride, it was Lima this time who took out freshly baked buns while the two girls laughed at the new flavor in the air. Was it cinnamon, wondered the singing thrush but perhaps only the bench knew the secret like it always did!
