The Party

Yes, there’s a party tonight!
And ….yes, you’re not invited!
Yes, there’ll be music and lights,
And conversations over wine.

For tonight, I will host
A special group of guests –
These are the ghosts
From my past, of myself!

To the child that was me,
I’d ask her to play more,
And to not so much worry
About grades and scores.

To my teenage self,
I’d tell her to laugh more,
And not really fret
Over the norms of the world.

To the young lady I was,
I’d tell her to love more,
And to take a pause
When it was needed most.

To me, in my middle age,
I’d tell her to spend more time
On things that mattered to her,
And she would just be fine.

Then, we’d all dance together
Having the time of our lives.
With no one to interfere or bother
Us till the wee morning light.

And I’d wave them all goodbye
As they’d travel through the ages
Leaving a feeling of peace behind
And the gift of self-compassion.

A Wish for You

If there was one wish
That I could wish for you,

It would be for you to see the moon
As not just a rock, lifeless and cold,
But smiling with the light of love at you.

To hear the wind in the trees
As not just a rustling,
But playing a melodious symphony.

To see flowers in the meadow
As not just a splash of colors,
But saying hello as they bob to and fro.

To see the grass in the fields
As not just a scattering,
But doing the flamenco in the breeze.

To hear the birds chirp away
As not just a cacophony,
But singing all they want to say.

To not look at things just as they are,
But find a deeper meaning in them,
So that the awed child in your heart
Connects to all that Nature brings.

Bedtime Story

“Let me tell you a story,” Gramma said,
As the kidbots lay on their podbeds.
“Yes, please!” They shouted in unison,
As she turned on their recharge buttons.

“Eons ago, on a planet light years away,
There lived a wise and beautiful princess.
Stories about her spread across the land.
Many princes arrived seeking her hand.

“What version was she?” A kidbot queried,
“They could have just cloned her easily!”
“Shush!” Said gramma, “Keep listening!”
“This is where the story gets interesting.”

“One day, the princess ventured out alone
And was attacked by bandits unknown.
A brave commoner came to her rescue,
And in doing that, they fell in love too.”

“Why couldn’t she use her light laser?
Was Love a trap the bandits laid for her?
Who saved them when they fell in Love?
Was there a starship?” Piped the kidbots.

“Oh my!” Said gramma shaking her head.
No! All of these never ever happened.”
“Yeah! Yeah!” They all grumbled together,
As they fell slowly into the cryoslumber.

“Yes!” Gramma sighed as she glided out
Looking at the blue moon in the clouds,
And from inside her bank of memories
She remembered her ancestors tearfully.

It’s Complicated!

And so it was that on the sixth day
God created Man in His own image,
And thinking that he shouldn’t be alone,
He made for him a companion, a Woman.

She complemented him perfectly.
She made his existence complete.
A beautiful partnership they built
For His commands to be fulfilled.

But I’m so sure nothing could’ve prepared
Him for the evolution of their relationship.
A meeting, yet not meeting, of their minds,
And the repercussions that would arise.

She said he should always tell the truth.
Then, asked him to say how she looked,
Or spoke, or sang or walked, or cooked,
And the answer expected was “Beautiful!”

He, on the other hand, felt so obliged
To let her know all that he had opined.
Only after he slept on the couch at night
Did he gain insight into that lost fight.

And then, there was that lazy Sunday
When he watched his favorite team play
While she dusted, cleaned, and arranged
All things in the house where they stayed.

And, till today, he could never explain
Why he got that cold shoulder again.
After all, he had stayed out of her way
By watching the game on TV that day.

O Almighty, was this in the Master Plan?
Were You onto all this before it all began?
What further trickery awaits us humans
As the Earth revolves around the Sun?

Who’s right or wrong? No one can tell!
It’s so complicated, and that doesn’t help!
So, pray, send to us the blueprint manual
That will help solve this unsolvable puzzle!

Traditional, yet Contemporary?

Wise men say – old is gold, and they say it with reason
Like this lesson from yore, from a Hindu marriage tradition.

In one of the ceremonies, the groom shows the bride,
The twin stars, Arundhati and Vasishta, shining in the sky.

This calls upon the couple to be synced in everything,
For they are now equals, like the twin stars twinkling.

The secret to this tradition was later uncovered by scientists.
In most twin stars, one is still, and the other rotates around it.

But, Arundhati and Vasishta are so unique because
They both rotate in perfect synchrony around each other.

This tells the bride and groom that to be the ideal couple,
Neither should feel the need to dance to the tune of the other.

How did the sages of those ancient times without modern equipment
Know about this difference of this particular star system?

Traditions are like that – mysterious yet moving us to action.
In fact, I’m sure that you all would agree with me, friends.

Anything contemporary that withstands the test of time,
Ultimately, gets transformed into a lasting and intriguing tradition.

Broken … And Fixed

It started with a fight.
We argued, shouted, sweared, and called each other names.
I stomped up to the attic.
My face flushed and teary-eyed in a fit of rage.

I somehow had to end this.
The only way to save myself was to conciously separate.
This relationship that I cherished,
A year later, had become stale.

Just then, my eyes fell on a wooden chest.
It was an old one made of wood and nails.
I mindlessly opened it,
Rummaging through the bric-a-brac it contained.

Suddenly, I found myself holding my dolly.
She was small, with a blue dress and a pink face.
Her arms were covered by bell sleeves,
But they were held to her body with tape.

There was an inundation of memories.
Decades ago, my friend and I were engrossed in play.
This dolly was one of my favorites,
And when we both grabbed it together, her arms gave way.

We tried to play with her.
But then decided it was useless and to throw her away.
Just then, my grandmother walked in.
She took one look at the dolly and shook her head.

With scissors, tape, and, in fifteen minutes,
My little dolly was ready to play with again.
“When something is broken, look for ways to fix it.”
Her words echoed in my mind at that very moment.

All of a sudden, I felt like a bulb had been lit.
Yes, there was anger, frustration, and rage,
But, I was going to try and save this relationship
I walked out of the attic, ready to calmly explain what I felt.

The Binding Ingredient

Little John’s father was a big cheese in New York City.
He was an author whose books sold like hot cakes.
For little John, life was, indeed, a bowl of cherries,
But he wasn’t clever, so his plans were all half baked.

And in Beijing, Chun’s parents disapprove of Bo,
But she’s pregnant, so the rice is already cooked.
And, wish as they might, nothing could be done now.
They hoped that the ginger would get pungent with age.

At the same moment in Paris, Juliette was worried.
The mirror revealed she was as skinny as a string bean.
She aspired to become a model to earn some dough.
So she’d have to work hard on herself, oh puree!

And, in Frankfurt, Adele and her friend were arguing.
Her friend said that Adele had tomatoes on her eyes.
“It’s all in butter!” Adele said in defense of her new relationship.
“That is not my beer!” her friend angrily replied.

So, my friends, if you’re still wondering what I meant
By sharing these little stories from the world over,
It doesn’t matter where you’re from, but you’d comprehend
That food is the ingredient that binds us all together.

My Bed

I cannot deny it – I love my bed.
It’s more than just a place where I rest.
Though there’s a desk, chair, and closet,
In my room, my bed is my favorite.

It’s my philosopher and guide
And teaches me a lot about life.
Enclosed in its coziness, I sleep at night –
A sleep that helps recharge my mind.

And what I learn from it is that
When the day has been frustratingly bad,
A deep sleep will untangle the threads
And give me strength for the next day.

My bed is where I see dreams.
It’s where I battle nightmares.
And it’s also the place I say thanks
When my eyes open to another day.

And in the morning, when I’m awake,
My bed is the first thing I make.
For, I can’t predict the course of the day,
But, at its end, I know I’ll have a good rest.

My bed is my best friend.
It’s not just a piece of wood.
It’s more than just a place where I rest.
I cannot deny it – I love my bed.

The Past’s Perfect Memories

“He was your great grandfather,”
My grandmother said matter-of-factly.
I took a second look at the photograph
Among the many scattered around me.

I looked at the dark-skinned old man
Dressed in a white turban and dhoti.
“He was a farmer,” my grandma went on,
“And he was an expert with the sarangi.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” my father added.
“As a child, I used to sit on his shoulders
And listen to the melodies he played.”
I was intrigued by the man in the picture.

The ancient photo was black and white.
Even then, I could see it was very sunny.
So many questions arose in my mind
About this stranger from my family.

What was he like? He seemed nice.
What was a sarangi? I wanted to listen.
What did he grow in the fields? Rice?
My curiosity piqued in that instant.

“Put it back carefully,” my grandma said,
As I returned it into the old red album.
But, just before she turned to a new page,
I looked at my great grandfather again.

And I noticed his eyes in that picture.
He was gazing straight at me, it seemed.
I saw the affinity that was in his nature,
And, to date, I can also see that in me.

Hope – A Story

The train started from a tiny village
Deep within the Indian hinterland.
And, in one red and black carriage
Sat Ami with a brown bag in her hand.

The train was bound for the big city.
The journey was of a night and day.
Soon, the whistle blew, and it slowly
Moved with a chug-chug on its way.

Along with Ami in the compartment
Were a bunch of old men and women.
She did not have to give any explanation.
They could see that she was pregnant.

The women smiled and gently asked
Her about her family and her baby.
In casual conversation, the time passed.
Then night fell, and they all went to sleep.

Sometime before dawn, Ami awakened.
The pain had started like ocean waves.
Her wails woke up the men and women.
They realized the baby was on its way.

The news spread throughout the cabins
As the women rallied around her to help.
Water, towels, bedsheets, and curtains
Were all arranged around her small bed.

After hours of the painful contractions,
Ami delivered a beautiful, pink baby girl.
Everyone wished her with congratulations
As she kept weeping with joyful tears.

Slowly, she revealed her life’s story.
Her husband was martyred recently.
All that was left of his love was the baby
Whom she named “Hope” in his memory.

My Notebook

My
Notebook.
My best pal.
My confidante.
Keeper of secrets.
It’s blank pages invite
Me to pour out my feelings.
As I write, words flow with the ink.
The abstract takes form and gets a life
Revealing something new about myself.
It is where a confluence takes place.
Where the real and unreal combine
To bring alive a new world
Where all is possible.
A realm made by me,
For me – to delve
Deep within
To find –
Me.

PS: This poem is a Syllable Pyramid.

With A Friend

When you’re lonely and down in the dumps,
And your spirit is in the doldrums.
When it seems that something has blocked out the Sun,
And Sadness weighs on you like a tonne.

What you need is a dose of laughter and fun
To make your grief come undone,
But no pill or syrup can give you that punch
Like your friend, your bestie, your chum!

With a friend, you know that you can take the plunge,
Venture into the deepest canyon.
With a friend, you don’t fear the things that go bump
In a night that would scare anyone.

With a friend, the worst days you can confront.
It don’t matter if you’ve lost or won.
All you need to believe is you have the gumption,
And, who helps? It’s your friend, your bestie, your chum!