Showing posts with label mixed emotions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mixed emotions. Show all posts

Rumi, the greatest love of my life


30th May 2016

It was exactly a year ago, when I’d gone to Kirtika’s place and held you in my arms. You were the size of my palm and just like that, then and there you belonged in my heart.



A year later, I can’t even imagine life without you. In fact I survived the year coz of you, and just you.

I remember I held you close to my heart on the drive back home and you whined for your mom, all the way. And then, just like that I become your mom.


People think, I’m a mom to Naina-Kanishk. Giving birth gave me mommyhood. But I know and you know that you’re my first and will always be.  It was you I held nights in my arms as I slept on the floor, thinking you’d fall from the bed. It was you I’d swaddle in my chunnis and put to sleep on a bean bag turned cradle with soft  toys and chewies.  It was you who I first rocked to sleep in my lap with lullabyes. It was for you I’d stayed up all night crying when you got hurt for the first time. All this much much before my twins. In fact I think you brought me the luck as I only tested positive 2 weeks after you came into my home.

So remember, I’m your Mumma first and foremost.



To all those who think that having a dog could be dangerous around my children:

I just wanna tell you that besides the point that Rumi is my child herself, I don’t think Naina-Kanishk would have been there, if not for her.


Firstly, she got me the luck and the mother hormones, which preceded the coming of the twins.

Secondly, she was the sole person in charge of keeping me happy throughout a very difficult pregnancy. I owed my mental health and stability to her. Not to mention that she curled up protectively near my tummy to warm my babies.

Thirdly, and the most FINAL point: I’d any day trust Rumi over any person around my babies – coz dogs are more predictable animals than human beings. Plus Rumi’s life is all about unconditional love and my babies are a part of her pack. She’ll do anything to protect them, in fact.



A silly little in-promptu song for my silly little Rumi. It goes like ‘Bingo’  coz we’ve been clapping a lot to that lately.

There was a mumma
Who had a dog and Rumi was her name-o
R-U-M-I
R-U-M-I
R-U-M-I
And Rumi was her name-o

With a curious nose
And an antennae tail
A skip was in her walk-o
Velvety ears
So soft to touch
Alma was her food-o

L-O-V-E
L-O-V-E
L-O-V-E
You so much I love-o

Papaya, pototo, paneer and eggs
Choostix, biscuits, bones-o
Carrots, cucumber, peanut, gram
All eaten still she’s hungry – o

Always – Hungry – Rumi – Dear
Always – Hungry – Rumi – Dear
Always – Hungry – Rumi – Dear
Why so hungry Rumi – o?

With beagle friends and human friends
You’re so friendly Rumi-o
With a shiny coat and a pretty face
You’re the prettiest pretty we-know

Amber – Socks – Zappa and Fifi
Zoey – Bubli – Zairo and Churan
Zazu – Flash – Dylan and Pebble
Are some of your friends – o

There was a mumma
Who had a dog and Rumi was her name-o
R-U-M-I
R-U-M-I
R-U-M-I
And Rumi was her name-o


Love you my li'l rums, gujariya, pan-chaaali, rumbu-sumbu, poopy, dobby, chhotu, zumbaroo, hingospa and everything else and more we've called you out of 'machmacheee'.

Mom’s the word

20th May '2016

Yes that’s all I’m gonna write about, coz that’s all that I am today.

I’m seriously deliberating between writing this or maybe catching a wink for 15 minutes or as long as all is quiet.  Latter’s not playing it fair: pushing my eyelids down already.

Learnings:

1. I realized I could pass out too (that too without alchohol). My body too has limits.

2. I nap best with my dog. I used to nap best with my husband, but not anymore.

3. I actually like silence. There are times I prefer that there be no talking. (really me? I’m the most talkative person I know)

4. It’s only my mom that I love and hate with equal high intensity. She’s also the only person left in my life I have expectations from (barring, Kev)

5. There is a thing such as too much multitasking. Three is the max. If you go for four, there's a serious high chance of tipping the balance unfavourably. Eg. (i) Pumping, (ii) Singing to the baby and (iii) using the phone (whatsapp, grofers, firstcry) is already a lot. If you go for (iv) slight stretch to put the pacifier back into the baby's mouth - my advice, don't but if you do you're bound to spill milk (literally) 

6. It's the small things in life that moves you. always. small things. always. 



:P Gotta go. I just heard someone stir.

How do I go home?

18th January 2015

Why does it happen still?
After all these years?
The weirdness creeps in.
And the world spins.

You don't know which road to take.
How will you go home?
What is home?
Where is home?

In Calcutta?
In Delhi?
In Hyderbad?
In Mumbai?
In all the houses I've lived in?
Where all my loved ones live?
My mom's house?
Where my brother lives?
Where my beloved grew up?
Where my love resides?

Is it where I breathe the lightest?
In his arms?
In the pause in a poem?
In a tune's smile?

In me?
A place?
A place which is eternal.
Where I've often paused and rested awhile.

In all the lives I've lived?
Is it the body in which my soul lives?
Is it in a shelf in outer space?

I'm confused.
I wanna go home.
Where is it?

splintered sentiments about one's home

19th January '10

It’s a weird mixed feeling about ‘home’ in my head (mainly it’s the heart, I guess).

I don’t know where my real home is, anymore! At least I don’t have it in total anywhere. It’s fragmented and is all over the place.

I get a little feel of it as I open the door to our apartment of some months. I get a little feel of it when I sip the morning tea, prepared exactly (almost) as always.
I get a little feel of it when I know exactly where to put what, and where what is.
I get a little feel of it when I lie in his arms and lull into sleep. And then it seems almost complete.

But I also call Cal my home, where now I don’t live anymore.
It’s I guess a sense of familiarity, knowing where what is, there which makes it home.
It’s also a sense of tuning into a system consciously and unconsciously, over the years.
It’s also a sense of belonging to a city, so full of friends, family and closed ones. Not to forget the memories contained in every fore.

It’s also home where my mommy lives. It’s also home where my daddy lives. It’s also home where I grew up with my bro. It’s also home, where my wedded lived his growing years. It’s also home in all those places where some months I lived before. And in many ways it’s also not home there.

It’s home now where I live with my mate. But somehow, the feeling of toto seems to be fragmented and strewn about everywhere.

They say home is where the heart is. But my heart is in so many places, with so many people and so many memories.

Gypsy Chimera

28th September '05

torrent torrid..
migratory music..
vagabond mind..
santoor and table beats..
ragas and alap..
candles..water..light..
eyes and beauty..
beauty and eyes..
your eyes..
my eyes..
no barriers..
A hand raised..
a finger touches me..
Don't do that..
I'll die..
Please don't..
I'd forgotten the feel of you....
I'm too weak..
I'll melt totally..
I can't take the ecstacy of your touch..
aroma..sizzles..
and then fizzles..
tears..
I'd said "No" and u went away..
AS IF A DREAM
or a floating-fleeting nightmare.