Blues and Pinks and Yellows and Greens

3^rd March 2016

Maybe it’s postpartum depression. Maybe it’s the hormones acting up. Maybe I’m just overwhelmed. But this is what I am right now. And I’m ok with that.

I’ve gone through a lot – through my pregnancy and in the last 3 weeks. I’m not gonna undermine myself or my emotions. It’s normal to feel this way. I’m gonna fight it. Even if it means that I cry, because sometimes tears bring us the courage we need.

Sometimes crying doesn’t bring the courage. It just brings more tears and then more. You feel pathetic. You feel weak. You feel incapable. But that’s also ok I guess. It’s just a feeling. Feelings pass. And tears dry.

            *          *          *          *          *

I believe in God. I believe he knows the lessons I have to learn and pass on. So I just have to live and let go. Whatever will be will be. I’ll take each day as it comes counting my blessings.

I’m deeply indebted to my mother. She’s been there for me in a way no one can ever be. She’s there everywhere. Healing me, blessing me, sending me off to rest, making me food, feeding my babies, clothing them, bathing them, handling my house etc etc and more. I don’t know how I’ll manage without her once she leaves in 2 weeks. She won’t even be available on the phone for a year.

I wish that someday I can too love my children like this!

I’m so proud of the daddy my life partner is turning out to be. I never saw him with a child ever. And now he’s a full-on hands-on dad - Feeding, burping, changing nappies, singing and more. Not only that, he’s been a rock solid support for me whose held my back against the storms I faced. I never knew that having children would mean falling in love with my husband all over again!

            I love you Kev. I really do. Muahs.

            *          *          *          *          *

I’m not so unhappy with myself either. I think I’m doing a pretty good job of this, to the best of my ability.

I’m just so sad at myself. I never thought I’ll be this kind of a mother. Crying one at that. I thought I’ll be a happy, singing, vivacious full of songs and smiles kinda mother. But I can’t. Just the saving grace till now is that I’m not crying in the presence of my babies. I go away from them. I try my best to be happy and bring in songs for them when I’m with them.

Am I so self-absorbed that I can’t handle sleeplessness? Where is the mother’s instinct and strength everyone talks about? I haven’t seen that in me yet.

I’m not a superwoman. I’m not a supermom.

I’m a regular person. Maybe lesser than that.

What do I do?

Coming Back

November '2014

I came back after a long time
  to live
    to laugh
      to cry.
To hear myself breathe.
To feel the living in me.

I came back to myself.
It's not easy.
It's a journey
through rivers,
    mountains,
      judgemental people
        and situations.
I have to cut through all and emerge

I hold my cloak close.
The crystals shine
  and show me the way..

pass the pickle

31st January '14

Sometimes it’s tough to be yourself

And live your life like you used too..

I can’t hear the world anymore

The seas are calling out to me

In the day

The whales scream

The dolphins spin in the air

In the night

I see the turtles crawling up to me..

I can’t see the people around me anymore

They’re all but a haze

The colours are drugging me

Playing with my consciousness

Tugging me into dreams

I spend the day trying to keep my eyes open..

I feel too much..

The cold pierces in

The warmth hisses

I taste too much..

The pickle I took a fortnight ago

The water I’ll sip in a while

I sense the bewilderment trying to drown me..

You think it’s a phase, just a day

Tomorrow would be different

But will it?

But atleast

20th December '13

When everything’s crumbling and you have no control

Go to sleep

When everything’s a disarray and it keeps getting worse

Go to sleep

When all is wrong and what’s right is a blur

Go to sleep

When you awaken from the nightmares it really won’t be better

But atleast you’d have gotten some sleep.

When all’s a mess and mess is all you see

Just live

When drudgery, the life and life, the drudgery seem unending

Just live

When love’s there and there’s love but you just can’t feel it

Just live

When you’ve been living along everyday one by one it really won’t be better

But atleast you’d have lived some more.

At the speed of 7 km per hour

22nd November '13

On the treadmill

On the treadmill

I’m running

I’m running

I’m exhausted

I’m tired

I have no strength

I’m drained

Can’t stop

Can’t breathe

Can’t rest

Can’t live

There’s too much to do

And there’s no time

There’s a lot more running

And there’s no time

Can someone show me how to pull the plug please?

in passing

11^th August ‘11

Out of sight. Out of mind.

Does this hold true? Maybe to a certain degree. But that necessarily doesn’t mean that the subject is not tucked somewhere in some very fond corner of the heart, to come up to the mind aimlessly, like a song from an oblivious, infinite playlist in shuffle mode.

I really don’t truly believe in the randomness of the shuffle mode. I think there’s a definite pattern there, somewhere. Probably again, known to the higher mind, the great strategist or the omnipresent. I can sometimes guess the complicated flowchart of the pattern, but don’t know a way of validating my doubts. Do the psychology experts know?

Life emanating of me

Images springing and dancing and jumping off a cliff

A face leaving the trail of its thought behind

Lazy working days full of restless ideas

Commute amidst many, through several modes.

a drive, a tube, an escalator, a tunnel,

a rickshaw, a meter,  a subway, a walk,

a bus, a conductor, a  stop, some stairs..

a journey, an exchange, some time,

just a wee bit of life. 

What’s life without poetry?

12th April '10

The mundane you do through life, you love, you laugh, you cry, you worry and you think yeah you are living. And you’re probably right!

The truth is this writing has no purpose. 

Maybe it’ll gain perspective as it evolves, but I wouldn’t pin up the hopes too high.

Some hours are empty, but so full of thought

Some days are busy, but so void of thought

It’s thought that you can maybe grasp

It’s the day which you can almost not catch

It’s the hours which rain

All the way down to the base of a stationary Sand Clock

Threshold

23rd July '09

Stretched out my hand
  out of the window
    to grasp a handful of sky.
And it poured.
Right then
  onto my palm.

Something's missing
Can't find it..

Have been looking awhile now..
Looked into the past,
Peered through the present,
And stared right past the deep oblivion.

Something's missing
Can't find it..

To disturb a deep slumber.
To expect liveliness.
To show you're alive
To look for passion.
To shake.
To inflame.
     To disturb a deep slumber.
          How?
When one sleeps while you write.

I'm on a journey to sanity.
Please call me back.
Cause you know..
    I know..
        We all know..
Once I reach
I'm never coming back.

Caged inside or outside?

13th November '08

You go on in life rescuing others, bringing hope streaks to shine here and there.....wishing, secretly wishing, that it shines on you, or is brought to you.

The reality is. It's you who wants to be rescued. From this, that and others. It's you who wants to be free. 

So you write.

To let your words flow freely. And the pen you use, doesn't work. The second one's ink doesn't flow. Freedom! Hah. You're caged. caged. caged. caged. caged. Behind bars of restlessness.

You live through a day. Days. Weeks. Months. Waiting for your turn. Each turn turns into another or anothers. Weird sentence, Huh? You won't get. Hahaha.

Small things. Meaningful small things. Oh, such melancholy over such a small thing!

What thing?  ll