It's All About Life. I See, I Write
Oh, so desperately I want to see the real you.
Oh no, not the facade, the real you.
No,not the fake you.
The unpretentious, unpolished you.
The YOU, with whom I can talk without being conscious
The YOU, to whom I can bare my vulnerable heart
The YOU, with whom I can take a leap of faith
The YOU, to whom I can talk about my hidden fears
Please be that YOU
Please . . .
“I want a lil bit of everything in life.”
Are you sure?
“Yes, pretty sure.”
It’s not possible.
“I’ll make it possible.”
But Man proposes, God disposes.
“Only for less determined. For people like me HE says, ‘Go ahead, I am with you!’.”
The gentle pearl-grey wind entangled my hair a little more
The sparkling moonlit raindrops drenched me and my soul to the core
That ecstatic moment on a sandy shore
I love, I cherish and really adore.
I loved the aroma and loved the touch
The sand melted under my feet as such
But I felt peaceful inside and outside
That beautiful night I really adore
When I walked with him in rain on that sandy shore.
We fear what we hear
We cringe and try to disappear
We fear, What we see in the mirror
The scary lousy (un)truthful mirror
Prisoners of our own reflection
We fear the rejection
Why?
She did it
You did it
Even I did it
Why?
You are FAT like a filthy pig
You are THIN like a stingy pin
You are FRECKLED like a dirty frog
You are PLAIN like a useless board
You are BLACK like a sweaty buffalo
You are BROWN like a clumsy gruffalo
And You, You are WHITE like a soggy marshmallow
Abusing, blaming and needless naming –
this is what if not body-shaming?
A thought-provoking article on body shaming:
https://magdalene.co/news-2045-mirror-mirror-on-the-wall-the-perennial-problem-of-body-shaming-.html
A Mother Never Dies
She only leaves the mortal body
to go to the heavenly abode
She only shifts from here to there
But it is true that a mother never dies …
You have seen the pyre
You have felt the numb coldness
You have done the rituals
You have heard the puraan
But it is true that a mother never dies …
Because the next day you wake up
You go to her room as all the other days
You see the empty bed, then you look at her photo on the wall
Her smile in the photo makes you smile
As it is true that a mother never dies …
Because after a few days while cleaning a shelf
You find a letter she wrote much ago to ask “Are you fine?”
You mumbles gently, “Ya, I am doing fine”
You heave a deep sigh, clutches the letter tight and smile
As it is true that a mother never dies …
Because after a few months while rummaging an old drawer
You find the red bangles she gave you on your first Karvachauth
You sit there for a while caressing those memories in your hand
You wear those bangles once again and smile
As it is true that a mother never dies …
Because after a few years while resetting an old cupboard
You find your first silk saree that she bought for you
You admire that saree once again and wrap it around you
You get lost in the memory lane and smile
As it is true that a mother never dies …
Because after a few decades while visiting your daughter’s house
Your daughter looks at you lovingly
Hugs you tightly and whispers in your ears
“Mamma, you resemble grandmaa so much!”
Her words make you smile
As it is true a mother never dies …
Moreover …
Many times when life becomes tough
And treats you rough
You can’t take it anymore and cry
Sad and shattered, you look at the night sky
A star shines on you, and twinkles a lil more
In those moments you are sure
That it is true …
A mother never dies …
P.S. – For all who lost their mother.
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via Daily Prompt: Trill
The trill of their voices still on my mind
Though I had left them a fortnight behind.
Neatly combed and properly tied-up laces,
Taught to be quiet, those dressed up faces.
But those eyes …
Those eyes I can’t forget.
Emptiness and longing in there
I think is beyond repair.
Today in the cold morning holding each other’s hands
Tied by many unseen strands.
Once Abandoned and deserted on garbage loads
Born behind closed doors then left to die on roads.
Curiosity flickered in their eyes for a while
Two or three in fact happened to smile
A few tried to break the monotony of standing in a line
When I extended the gifts in a pile.
They are the ones who know how to survive
Even in utter dejection and incessant strife
Some of them, I BELIEVE, will eventually shine,
Will rise above the stigma, their lives almost fine
This sums up my visit to an orphanage
But …
What remains …
The echo of trilling and tweeting in the haze?
I got the shock of my life last night
When my mother saw me but failed to recognize.
Once strong like a mountain, now she is ill and fragile
Parkinson’s has taken a toll on her ability to survive.
Oh! What have you done to the woman who used to thrive with life?
Her once capable hands shake continuously
Making her unable and reliant; and this perturbs her profusely.
Her once high and proud head is now drooped habitually.
Her once unwavering and kind eyes are now all vague and lost strangely.
Oh! What have you done to the woman who faced every odd so bravely?
When I called her “Mamma,” she turned her face to me in vain
And tried to grope in the dark to get a signal from her brain.
I heard the angry pitter patter on the window pane of cold winter rain
I felt the cruelty of old age and tried to hide a tear of pain
Oh! What have you done to the woman who taught me not to feign?
Oh! Dear God! Something changed in those senile but still beautiful eyes
My mother narrowed her gaze on me, it felt like getting the most coveted prize.
“Don’t cry, don’t be afraid, my dear,” she repeated her old advice
Her words broken and unclear but still so wise.
Oh! See this woman who never fails to rise and shine!
You can take away everything from a MOTHER, You shoddy,
But not the MOTHERHOOD, embedded in every particle of her body.
