I Remember You

I remember you
As if it was just yesterday.
You were sitting near the window,
And I was narrating an incident
From many years ago
When I fell in trouble at work
Due to a misunderstanding
Caused by an email.
A smile spread across your face,
And you started laughing
A hearty belly laugh.
It was unexpected, yes,
But, then, I suddenly could see
The funny side of the story.
And in that moment,
I started laughing, too.

I remember
As if it was just yesterday.
You took me out for an evening walk.
The next day, I had an examination,
And I was worried about a classmate
Beating me to the first position.
And, it was at that time that you said
That my race was only with myself
And not against the other children.
If I kept performing better than before,
Then, I would reach the highest score.
All at once, my perspective shifted.
Studies became less of a burden
And more of an enlightenment.

I remember
As if it was just yesterday.
You tucked my sister and me into bed
Saying “Good night” in a sing-song voice,
And we too said “Good night” in that tune.
Then, you said, “See you later, alligator.”
And we repeated, “See you later, alligator.”
Then, you asked us to wiggle our toes,
And laughed and wiggled our tiny toes.
Then, you sang a nonsensical melody
Like “Ching pong ching ding dong ding.”
And we repeated this after you, singing,
And all the while, we kept giggling.
This was our childhood nightly ritual.

I remember everything
As if it was just yesterday.
And, though well-meaning folks say
You’ve passed on to the heavenly realms,
To me, you’re very much present –
Sitting on your rocking chair
Or reading the newspapers
Or doing things that seem mundane.
Like watching the news on television
Or talking on the phone with your friends.
For the others, you may have left,
But to me, you’ll always be there.
My dearest papa, I can never forget.
I remember you like it was just yesterday.

The Homemaker

My home is what I make.
It’s my full-time occupation.
I give it my all every day
Without any expectation.

My home is my family,
And I am because of them.
Laughter, music, and wit,
Are all a mandatory tradition.

My home is my temple.
I’m the keeper of its purity.
To all that enters, I’m watchful,
And evil has no place in it.

My home is my expression.
It’s a mirror of what I feel.
Every detail and decoration
Is arranged intentionally.

My home is what I live for,
And, I don’t earn a salary.
But yes, I’m a homemaker
And this is enough for me.

The Everyday Superwoman…Forever

The world may stir with the light of the sun.
I couldn’t care less, for her voice wakes me up at dawn.

The water in rivers may cleanse our souls.
I couldn’t care less, for every day, she gives me clean clothes.

The trees may work hard to yield fruit.
I couldn’t care less, for when I feel hungry, she cooks food.

The sky may be dark, stormy, and scary.
I couldn’t care less, for I sleep listening to her lullabies.

The breeze that blows may be life-giving.
I couldn’t care less, for she taught me the skills for the living.

The mountain may be rocky and tall.
I couldn’t care less, for she gave me the strength to rise after each fall.

The diamond may have a bright glow.
I couldn’t care less, for she makes me feel more valued and loved.

No, she doesn’t mean the sun, river, tree, sky, breeze, mountain, or diamond to me.

For the sun sets, the river dries up,
The tree withers, the sky darkens,
The breeze stalls, the mountain falls,
And, the diamond also turns to dust.

But yes, she’s my mother, a superwoman everyday…forever.

The Seed That I Sowed

While traversing through the woods one day,
I met an old and wrinkled woman on my way.
She said my luck would change for the better,
And gave a magic seed in exchange for my heifer.

Excited, I skipped to my home at top speed,
And in a pot with moist earth, planted the seed.
In a few days, I clapped with joy unbounded
When two tiny leaves shone as the seed sprouted.

I thought I should keep the pot on the window sill
So that the sunlight would help it grow as well.
But that night, I saw quite the scariest dream
In which the plant was stolen away by a thief.

Afraid, in another room, I hid the precious pot
Away from prying eyes in a safe secluded spot.
There, I poured a mug of water in it every day,
And for it to bear the magical fruit, I awaited.

Each day, I spoke to it about my soaring ambitions.
I was so in love with it as if it were my own creation.
Days passed, and the two leaves turned to four,
And, then, the entire plant turned a pale yellow.

The leaves fell, and the stem drooped and wilted.
It didn’t take me time to know that it was dead.
O! Woe! The magic with the plant was snuffed,
And the thing that did it in was – my excess love!

My love for the plant had transformed into greed.
My possessiveness and protectiveness had blinded me
To the extent that I could never recognize nor see
That it was actually smothering the life out of the seed.

A little sunshine and rain were all it needed
To grow and bear its magical fruits unheeded.
I wish I had understood this much much earlier,
But now I’d lost the magic … as well as my heifer.

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.