Monday, June 12, 2017

There is a sadness in his eyes..

There is a sadness in his eyes...
But his eyes smile, they do, a lot.
What is it then, I see
Is it my questioning look
My searching for sadness
Hoping to find some loss
Some hurt..

He had lost a love.
A life.
He must hurt
I am convinced
I look for proof
I dig
I observe.

His smiling eyes
Are they mocking me?
Hiding behind the veil of happiness!
No they are happy.
Prodding me to smile some more
I laugh a little
Live a little.

I am careful around him
He has not spoken about it
Do I want the details
No..I want to know how is he feeling..coping..
No..I want to know how is he happy

His eyes smile a lot
There is love, hope..longing
Maybe I will ask him one day
Maybe I will learn to smile some more
He is a good teacher

I smile a little more
My eyes smile a little less
My sadness is reflected in his.
His looks at me.

He surrounds me with laughing eyes
I throw my head back and chortle
My eyes are smiling
His shine with mirth.

Written on 11th June, 2017.
(So I have discovered that when I read only then can I write Ideas, words start popping in my head.  Of course I have to have time to sit down, think and write. Of course I have written after a long long time. Also wrote this poem on paper first and at one go after ages. Though what you see here is an edited version. So how have you been? Happy? Sad? Listless? going about the motions? Not wanting to get in the details of the inspiration behind the poem. I think the people who have truly suffered loss are the ones who are also truly happy..or they learn to be happy or they appreciate or treasure the happy times more. Not all..maybe only a few.. Maybe there are just happy souls..innocent..childlike..cute..Actually that is the word the true sense.. Hope you have such cute souls around you. Happy Vacations !! :) I will see you when I see you)

Sunday, January 31, 2016

Walk of Life

Stumbling,tottering and tilting
falling over
getting up again, unsure yet curious
All the time laughing.
smiling and learning.

Kicking around, jumping over,
sprinting and climbing,
Always persevering.
stretching the limits,
achieving and exhaling.

Strolling, ambling aimlessly,
tripping, tramping..locking and unlocking
loving, playing, teasing, pursuing
swaying and spinning.
dancing away in the night.

leading and being lead on.

Marching on,
always running but curiously staying at the same place.
trudging and plodding.
Scraping, scurrying,
looking behind never fondly.
Never ahead with awe.

Kneeling, bending with the weight.
Heavy heart..lifting

Uplifting again..the soul, the mind
starting again..
Smiling and learning anew.

Written on 31st January, 2016.

(Hello is it going? Long time no see, no hear, no write.. We have gone beyond explanations now right??!! Like a bad penny that returns or more like if you love someone set them free and they do return !! :D  Believe me I tired..really..but could not write..not that I did not have the time ..though I was busy and have discovered you are more busy in your head than with work. I just could not write..came here many times started one or two poems..could not finish them..had no new ideas. Today too I came back as I have some time on my hands..what with being laid up in bed compulsorily. Relax not to worry too much..ankle sprain and ligament basically now learning to walk..self teaching this time around !!:)..and thought what about writing about learning to walk..and from there it went to how walking, and being on our feet, up and about..kinds of defines our phases of life..and hence the poem. I have written about hands as Links of Life  and this could be a kind of a parallel. Self inspiration..don't worry I am not going to write about any more body parts. And well, if nothing else there are a whole lot of synonyms to learn here ;). So in the process learnt to write again..and one more realisation dawned. Creativity needs discipline too. Hope I can translate this into other things in my life. That's a good way to start the new year too right..ya ya I know..but better late than never..Happy New Year !! See you around and keep walking.) 

Sunday, October 5, 2014

The Yellow Truck

In the backyard,
Among the beetles and boxes,
Broken bottles and bright sunlight,
The yellow truck glistened.

It sped through,
The wilting lilies and tall grasses,
Whizzing past the rickety chair of grandma,
And spicy sunbathing pickle bottles.

It turned turtle quiet a few times.
Banging into many a feet and furniture.
Screaming children and scolding parents,
Scurrying out of its way.

It sped through,
On four red wheels,
Two wooden planks,
Yellow in colour,
The yellow truck.

It had no engine, no power
Only little hands moved it and
Small legs ran with it, gave it speed.
And leaped over hurdles.
Squeals of laughter were the horns
And tired little bodies, the brakes.

It sped through.
It amazed them,the little beings.
Irritated adults.
Entertained toothless gramps.
Simple, plain, unadorned.
The yellow truck.

Written on 5th October, 2014.

( Hi.. I am back :) No complaints and no usage of the word "long" with varied no. of "o". The poem is inspired by a friend who told me story about his yellow truck one of the very few toys he had and how it was so simple and made of  wood ..and not like todays' toys so complicated and sophisticated. He had the most fun with it and amazing thing is his nephew inherited the truck from him and used to play with it. Taking a deep breath and remembering childhood days and reliving the simple joys and fun times is one of our favourite pastimes. Those were the days !! So this festive season (all the ads are saying that :P ) follow the KISS principle..keep it simple stupid !! :) Happy Id and Happy Diwali !! :) )

Friday, December 6, 2013

The river of winter

It gathers like froth over the cold earth,
Swirling around lovers on a secret rendezvous,
Whispering and murmuring.
It flows and ebbs like the sea over the valley,
Playing hide and seek with the moon,
Twinkling and shining.
It twists and turns like a storm,
Rolling down the hills stealthily into the eye of a mystery,
Whistling and  chattering.
It strolls hand in hand with the evening,
Bidding farewell to the sun,
Silently and smiling.
It tempts and teases,
Inviting and forbidding,
Cosy and cold.
Dark and light.
Black and white.
Beautiful and evil.
It envelops all,
The river of winter..
Fog..over the cold earth.

Written on 6th December, 2013.

(Well what do I say..sorry won't cut it but still sorry..My second post this year..lots of changes this longer a student..working..setting up my home..and lots of other things. Its winter time and time for white mornings, staring into nothingness and  mysterious chai and lazy days.. Hope you are having one of these days or will soon have them what with the holidays coming..So here's to cheerful, thankful and forgiving times..:) A Beintot !! ) 

Friday, February 1, 2013

सर्दी में माँ की शाल याद आती है

सर्दी में माँ की शाल याद आती है
वोह पतली सी
हरे रंग की,
कुछ रंग बिरंगी फूल बने थे
कबसे लिपटे थे वोह उन कर्मठ कंधो पर।

माचिस की खुशबू
कई मसालों कि महक
आया करती थी उस से
कभी सर पर कभी कंधों पे झुला करती
काम करते हाथों को गर्मी कहाँ भाती है।

कभी कभी रसोई में दौड़ लगाते हम
छिप जाया करते  उसके अन्दर
उसके हरे धागों के बीच से आती झिलमिल रोशिनी
वह भीनी महक
और सुन्हेलि गर्मी
एक अलग ही संसार था।
सादा सुखद और शांत।

अब सर्दी में मोटे मोटे स्वेटरों में कहीं चिपे हुए हम
नीचे देख के जल्दी जल्दी भागते रहते है
ठंड से .. अकेलेपन से .. शोर से
तो और भी
सर्दी में माँ की शाल याद आती है।

Written on 1st February, 2013.

(First post of the year..A very Happy New Year !! wont apologize for the long absence because there is no excuse or apology. This poem was in my mind since long..I still remember that green shawl mom had and used to wear it in the severe winters of Srinagar. I can still smell matchsticks and spices on it. Have not seen it since long. Will check if she still has it. Memories have a way of lingering.. :) Till next time.. Hopefully soon..Happy Valentines Day !! Spread Love) 

Friday, September 28, 2012

I want to make hot phulkas after PhD.

In a recent article by the poster boy of Indian writing from the flock of B'School graduates - advises men to marry women who do not make hot phulkas at home but work in a potato chips company (am paraphrasing) i.e. are working. He lists lot of advantages a working woman can bring to the family and home. For e.g. she can help her husband in dealing with office politics and bring back information and knowledge as she is better exposed to the world. So now not only do I have to be fair, beautiful, slim and homely to get married, I have to be working woman as well. That is if I have to meet the criteria published daily in newspaper matrimonial pages. Not only convent educated mind you but working.  Thinking that one article can influence the age-old marriage market is perhaps naive but going by his book sales you never know. 

Though it has changed, the market that is. Now educated working women are the need of the hour or rather homes. Therefore I never had a choice. Earlier I was not allowed to study , then only allowed to study so that I become eligible for marriage as times changed and people wanted educated DiLs and then allowed to work but its continuation depended on the in-laws. Now they want working DiLs. Where is my choice and my freedom? If I choose to make hot phulkas after doing PhD who is anybody to tell me that I should not do it?  And use my grand education for a job and mind you earn well. What if I want to pursue a different career and god forbid not marry at all !! Why should anybody tell me what do to and not to do and question me about it.

My mother taught for twenty years and stopped working before reaching retirement age. Did that make her suddenly incapable or did her job as a school teacher make her less capable as mother or wife because she could not tell Dad about mutual funds? Many of friends in school and college had non-working mothers and they were as well-brought up as me and others who had working mothers. Education should lead to jobs is a topic for another post. But where is it written? More so and more importantly education does not come from  sitting in a classroom. That is literacy. Was it not the so called highly educated who were managing the i-banks responsible for the 2008 financial crisis. Education means how to live your life well and make your surroundings if not the world a better place. And knowing the difference between clothes and culture which equate wearing a sari to purity and shorts to promiscuity. You may be a financial wizard but you make millions at the cost of others you are nothing more than a common thief. You maybe Lalitaji in the whitest of white sari yet can be a dowry seeking torturing MiL.

Managing home is a mind blogging task which is to be done 24/7 365 days an year. It involves all the disciplines in the world be it management, finance, politics, ethics, you name it and you get it. The word Economics originates from a Greek word which means household management. Rejecting household work and being a homemaker (now that housewife is out of fashion) is down right ridiculous. The fact is anything I do there is counter by the so called society. If I don't work after completing my education then I was not worth of getting a job. If I don't take a break for having babies and leave them in the care of the maid then I am a callous mother. I am also guilty of stereotyping and questioning others. When after class XII my classmates started getting married and I was like 'so soon'. I did not know under what circumstances and conditions. Maybe after their marriage they completed their education and went on to careers. One of the examples that comes to mind is Tarla Dalal.

Career and jobs are not the be all and end all of life. The reason they are given importance is because through it mostly and especially for women stems their freedom and liberation. What is needed is firstly respect for what ever I am doing be it managing home or managing a fortune 500. Secondly freedom to choose my way of life and the encouragement to pursue my dreams. This not only for me or women but for everybody. In a modern free society the freedom to choose, to be different, have the courage to reject stereotypes and labels are a must. Breath. Live and let live.

P.S. I don't know how to cook !!

Written on 28th September, 2012.

( You can read the article mentioned in the blog here  Don't have much to say now just that respect others and their choices and yes you may think of all the caveats that are legal :)  Till next time Happy Dusshera !!!! :) )

Saturday, August 18, 2012

Glittering and Gritty

Every beat of the drum,
pierced his heart.
Every note of the shennai,
brought tears to his eyes.
Yet he kept on playing,
longing to go back in time. 
Clutched tightly between his fingers, 
like grains of sand.
Glittering and gritty. 

The time when every moment was celebrated,
big or small..
The breaking of dawn, 
the last light of day and closing of gates.
Birth of a new life,
victory over old foes.
New ends..old beginnings..
the age of innocence.
Now there are just two of them,
keeping the tradition alive. 
Alone and forgotten.
a spectacle for rare visitors,
Relic of the past. 

The music fades away,
few odd spectators leave.
Its been long since a crowd gathered. 
he packs away the instruments,
The memories and the times.
and the few grains still left between his fingers..
Glittering and gritty. 

Written on 18th August, 2012.

(Its been a long long time..almost three months.. sorry sorry.. This poem also took a long time to take shape four months almost. The old city of Ahmedabad has lot to explore. The history,the stories. Some traditions still continue..The city gates when they were closed at night in the past did so with music playing in the background. One family still continues that tradition till date and at night around 11pm in a small room above the gates which now remain open play for sometime. It is sad and heartening at the same time. What will you do to go back in time which we think to be better than the present. Till next time..Eid Mubarak.. :) )