my children, that's all I’ll ever want

17th January '2017

My children,

Just give me your laughter.

That’s all I’ll ever want.

Not even a year old,

I see you crawling away from me so fast,

Then taking slow steps back towards me.

You don’t come to me for nourishment

You look for plates and spoons

You don’t sleep, both together tucked on to me

You sleep independently, in your own cots

Already you’re growing up, too fast

Don’t mistake me

I’m not vain

I do not want you to want me

I don’t want anything at all

If something,

Just give me your laughter.

That’s all I’ll ever want.

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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.

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..

good night

the dark bleeds silent tears
the silent tears evaporate into thin air
the air gets sultry

the life bleeds hope
the hope evaporates into complacency
the complacency gets too much

Every Bit

26th July '12

Every bit of  joy I had within me

        flowed out in tears

                       drop by drop..

And you ask me to smile?

Every bit of life in me

          walked out of my life

                     one step at a time..

And you ask me to live?

Every bit of me

          got burned up in smoke

                    and ash scattered all over

And you ask me to be me, again?

Burning Hope

June '12

texture, ink, acrylic

pen

sand, texture, ink (incomplete piece)

sand, ink, heat with collage

ink, oil colours

I donno who lives inside me anymore?

21st July '11

Someone speaks from inside me....
The words I've spoken echo in my ears..
And I wonder who said them?

Not one, not two, but many of them pull the strings, tug at them...
And not one of them is me.
If you can hear a faint sigh, a murmur of approval, a vehement no or a silent tear roll down, that could be me.

A

18th March '11

a blank page

a pen

and no words

a poetry without a rhythm

a rhyme which doesn't ring

a night which turns agenda-less

a star which is lost

a friend whose far far away

a friend whose so close yet

a lover whose lost in ideal

a partner whose calculating the logic

a finger which has interrogated every angle

a tear which drops too easily

a straying lock of hair

a sleepy pair of eyes

a commitment of a lifetime

a parting of a week

a song, a sonnet

a ballad, a cuckoo

a nightmare, a dream

a hope, a dawn

Just the other night

14^th Sept ‘10

Tears don’t think nowadays

They just drop.

Missing your touch

As the sky turns dark again

Wish you were here

As I pulled up the covers to snuggle

The warmth against my cold skin

The scuttling of legs

The adjustment which put us at rest

And then your breathing, your snores.

My thoughts at home as I played your hair

My head in place with your heartbeat echo

It was just the other night

It was also the night

When I was mean

It was also the night

When I was in doubt

It was also the night

When I was hurt and I hurt you

I lied

You’re with me

I miss you.

one of those day

6th June '10

She was in the dark, amidst clouds, wet with tears in a chaotic space.

The day changed colour : orange, yellow, grey, white, blue, indigo, black.

She was trying to figure out how to forgive someone who'd apologized for a thought. a thought?

The day was hungry, without any laughter, companionship, ale or bread.

She was sitting and wondering where was she now. Wasn't it all figured?

The day rolled out impossible, dubious with a lot of warnings.

She breathed fire onto all those who trespassed, even remotely.

The day shall come to an end, but not soon enough. There are tasks at hand.

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