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”
“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”