Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering. ― The History of Love
Motherhood is not always a happy ride. I say that and add, ” But I accept it with a big bear hug.”
I hug my daughter often, more often than my mother did. In my very Indian childhood of 90’s, love didn’t always come to me in words or in much hugs and kisses. Love came in a platter, in different shapes and pre-cut slices. Most frequently love came in large portion of Sunday chicken curry, a ritual I loved in the household. If I fared well in tests or in some life-altering phases, my mother would shower me with two chicken leg pieces with extra creamy curry. If I scored a hundred in maths test, she would rush to her temple to shower God with gratitude and sing a silent prayer for my future. Continue reading “Love has a sound”
January doesn’t amble, stroll, or linger. January strides, with pride and such motion that I fear of reaching the year end in a blink.
For several years, I lived a resolution free January- my January mornings were mostly cautious, looking at Facebook feeds of other people who wanted to try new things, amend new lifestyle in the first week of January. In two weeks everything fades. Every. Single. Year. A new year starts looking like every other year- sometimes breezy, sometimes anxious, sometimes in melancholy. There is no romance or performance to these first week resolutions, but there is a real intimacy. In a year after a daunting, enormous, and never ending 2016, it is striking, even comforting, that you can always try for a change. Continue reading “Same journey, new shoes”
The timeless in you is aware of life’s timelessness. And knows that yesterday is but today’s memory and tomorrow is today’s dream. ― Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
The year is dying soon.
Continue reading “Goodbye, 2016”
I don’t know how it is in nuclear families, but in large ones relationships shift over time. You might be best friends with your one cousin, and then one year later it might be some other cousin. Then it tends to change again, and again after that. It doesn’t mean that your life has fallen out with the person it used to feel closest to but that it has merged into someone else’s road, or had his or hers merge into yours. Thus a team of quartet morphs into quintets, and then splits again, before morphing into a trio. The beauty of such relationship is that it’s always evolving. Continue reading “Here, like every year”
“Just as a painter needs light in order to put the finishing touches to his picture, so I need an inner light, which I feel I never have enough of in the autumn.” – Tolstoy
There’s nothing like staying home on a cold Friday afternoon, making a cup of tea and reading the last a few pages of the book while soaking in the sun. Continue reading “In the light, in the shades”
How fast a month can fly?
It was just first day of November and the pumpkin patches were weary, soon their orange color was vanishing into lush greens of fresh cut Christmas trees. People were waiting for Thanksgiving dinner, long commutes, lengthy political discussions with know-it-all relatives, and those black Friday deals. Shops were selling pumpkin pies, pumpkin cheesecakes, pumpkin ice-creams, pumpkin recipe books. A dozen of dead turkeys were always on display on the shelves. Continue reading “November Nostalgia”
At 6 o’clock in the morning when loneliness stalks you,
visit your garden, listen to the whisper of the branches.
See how green the grass looks at the other side of your body.
Watch the cloud worshiping the bright orange hue in the sky,
see how everything in the nature is neatly arranged,
so individualistic, so alone, yet so much in order and friendship. Continue reading “At 6 o’clock in the morning”
“Touch has a memory.” ― John Keats
I don’t remember when I slept well last time. My mom smiles, “Welcome to motherhood.”
And I just stare at your sleeping face; I wipe your mouth with the corner of this soft cloth,
and put gentle kisses on your cheeks.
Twice. Every time.
“Can you believe we created her?” He says.
I nod in disbelief. Continue reading “Sunday afternoon”
It is not just another autumn evening. It is cold, calm, and composed. It is rainy, cloudy, and happy. People are home, drying their rain boots and raincoats. We are wandering outside. I am clicking the sky, my usual activity on rainy days. I am heavily pregnant.
A flock of birds is returning home. I am wondering why they need a home when they have wings.
Soon I am going to find the answer.
Continue reading “An urge to nest”
Through the windshield now
a supermoon is staring at us,
escaping a handful of gray clouds
that are trying to blanket her in.
Cozy, she never wants to feel. Continue reading “So far”