Posts

I shut my eyes

-
  I shut my eyes I shut my eyes, With a signal to stop my thoughts, Thoughts that seep from the past, Memories that will not let my present pass. I shut my eyes To purge my mind of the blocks, Blocks that stop the flow of my thoughts, Opaque to the sweetness of the past. I shut my eyes, With a plea to invite sleep, For moments of silence in the storm, A blessed oasis in the whirlwind of happening. I shut my eyes. To will that sleep will never creep, Taking with it my precious time, Time pregnant with a million possibilities  I shut my eyes, When they threaten to flood Rushing to reveal me to the world, Reckless, leaving me vulnerable, exposed. I shut my eyes To will them to break the draught, With a downpour to quench my thirst, Seeking help to heal and rebuild. I shut my eyes To block the light so harsh, Counting the grains of sweet solitude, Creating a warm blanket just for me. I shut my eyes To focus on the elusive light, That I know is hidden in the molasses, Waiting for it to leap
Post a Comment
Read more

Texture of longing

-
  Our lives are bound together by many things we want. Love, happiness, success, comfort, money. Satisfaction …….the list could go on. But isnt the common factor  the word “ want” “ Wants are the threads that carry us through our lives.” Wanting  to fill our lungs with air is our body’s want without which we cannot live. Very often we feel the depth of our want but fail to recognise other’s desires. We often feel that others  do not recognise our longing. Is it because  we all long in such different ways ? Is it because the rules of fulfillment are so different for each of us, so natural yet so different? In the texture of longing, I explore  a few  paths that longing could take for each of us, using the metaphor of the 5 elements of nature.  As you traverse with us on these paths, do turn the mirror inward if you feel like, and explore your own longing. Texture of my longing : Air I sweep, I flutter I float I float with my longing and spread Spread into  hearts waiting for my touch T
Post a Comment
Read more

A thousand connections

-
  The universe and me, What could the connection be? Am I your daughter, much loved and always forgiven? Free to grow and play, dance and live as I will, in your pavilion? Or  Am I your caretaker, entrusted with the task of ensuring your existence? Always alert, on guard against those trying to destroy your subsistence? Am I your citizen,  governed by your rules and regulations? Living and Loving the part I play, confident in your competence? Or Am I your ruler, having conquered your  heights with my might? Holding you in my hands with the power to protect or neglect? Am I your friend, so close that we are indistinguishable from one another? Listening and being heard even though we do not  whisper or utter a word ? Or Am I your devotee in awe of  your presence, your power, your name,? Lost in prayer, unable to fathom the beginning or end of your game? Am I your lover, yearning to unravel your mysteries and your beauty? Lost in you as you loose yourself in my zest, forgetting your duty?
1 comment
Read more

A shout out to Parents

-
  Where is the full stop to what you can do for your child? Why do we give so much of ourselves to our children That it becomes difficult to take back. Why do we spread ourselves so thin for them That it is imperative we will snap. Why do rally so much for them be ours That they scramble to run? Why do we feel we have to do everything right with them? That wrong becomes an impossible burden to bear. Why do we fall in love with the parents we become And fall out of love with ourselves. Why do we own their actions, their mistakes That we fill with a guilt that is not ours. Why can't we let parenthood breathe, bend, bewitch and bellow? Accept that a parent needs space to experiment, Parenthood needs time to explore and understand, For a license to make mistakes, let us demand. Why can't we let parenthood live, learn, relearn and relive? Critically examine the ancient art of parenting passed through generations, Forcefully question the new science that we learn through lessons,
2 comments
Read more

Just Not what you wanted

-
 A light little kiss on your cheek when you are asleep,  not seeing, A request to hug whispered into another s ears,  when you are engrossed, not listening , A hand that surrounds you to comfort  when the tears are in your throat, you are not crying, A thoughtful gift, just what you needed bought for you when you have not been wanting, A call on your phone that comforts you and holds you together,  when you have not been crumbling,  Fleeting gestures of love and care given when they know, you are not acknowledging, Aren't they just the right medicines to make you allright, when you are not ailing?
Post a Comment
Read more

A dot- Athought

-
                      A thought is but a dot in the fabric of time, How powerful can a dot be? A thought is but a whisper in the din of space, How loud can a whisper be? But why wont it fade, why wont it get drowned? Why is it an indelible stain that spreads unchecked? Why does in linger in the air long after the sunset?   When the questions galore filled my mind, I looked within to see what I could find. Where does the thought start? What is its path? Its ferocious energy can spark a revolution Yet its deep empathy can light an inspiration As I searched, I found a seed, an egg and a bird.   A thought is a seed waiting to be find its tree, It feeds on the ground left fertile by feelings, Taking its shape and form with what is there, Feelings that fleet away letting the thoughts linger.   A thought is a bird hidden in  its egg, It looks for sustenance within to grow stronger, To survive for is stint in the world beyond Sucking its energy fro
Post a Comment
Read more

Frayed fabric

-
  Pallavi rummaged through her mother’s sari collection. “I just cannot fathom why someone would collect so many saris in their lifetime,” she muttered. That was a strange comment since her own livelihood depended on people hoarding saris. Pallavi was a designer with one of the famous sari boutiques in Mumbai. A boutique frequented by the crème de la crème of Mumbai including many Bollywood celebrities. She was appreciated and known for her work, meticulous, and creative. “Am I really aiding this madness of hoarding in people?” she wondered wryly for the first time, with her hands on her head, daunted by the sheer magnitude of her work. Her mother Sindhu Shivakumar was a renowned socialite, and social worker, quite like many of Pallavi’s clients. “Actually, ma was just a social menace,” Pallavi said under her breath looking at her mother’s supine form on the bed. Could she hear her? The doctors had said that they were not sure. It could not be ascertained yet. Sindhu had suffered a mas
Post a Comment
Read more