Month: September 2015

The flight….

She rose unto the moon

Upon an enchanted night….

Demure and convinced ,

Of the harmless white light.

 

Longing for a balm,

That would ease out

The folds within.

She flew and flew

Over tides, sometimes dancing.

 

Here she looks down

And marvels at her being;

That such flight is attainable

Is beyond her fathomable realm.

 

The flight seems infinite,

She sometimes stops to rest……

Cast into a spell

At the divine…….

Sand……

It is sometimes the dearest of treasures,

That you so easily give away.

Like the winds that lovingly

shook the lock of your hair yesterday;

Rummage through so harshly today.

It is sometimes so easy to detach

From what you held on to for life.

The eyes that saw through

Every wonder…..every strife.

Needless to say,

They still hang around,

Somewhere in “your” universe……

Needless to say,

You would still make a run,

For every little verse……

The winds are not the same again…

But the fragrance remains…..

The footprints washed away

In the sand…..

But the sand in the hair?

The unease still remains……

-Shalini

Those eyes…..

Does it have to be love every time

I look into those eyes……

Is sublimity a pre-requisite?

To an everlasting relationship.

No, the stars do not always gleam

And flicker in those eyes,

Sometimes it doesn’t matter…..

If every gesture is a disguise….

No, everytime I do not find an echo

Of unspoken promises…..

Sometimes even the hand I extend,

Seems to dangle in the crevices.

Sometimes the abyss looms large

And nights seem very long……

It isn’t the eyes I look into then;

I look for your song…….

You sing to me

Carefree melodies, endless banter….

And the abyss recedes,

It is then I wonder……

The road that leads to your eyes

Often takes me by surprise……

Sometimes it isn’t just love

It is my entire life…….

Of dreams and fire……..

 

 

 

I plucked a dream

From rows of them.

There were many…..

In all the mayhem.

 

Hastily, I shelved it

In my bosom

For fear it became known

And till

I could have more vision….

 

I wondered if anyone

Had glanced at it before,

Nonetheless, I nurtured it

Forever more…….

 

Every night the tide rose

And I rummaged through the  shelves

It sank deeper and deeper

Deep where darkness delves…..

 

Till now demure,

Layers within…….

It refused to die,

And kept burning…….

 

Now the moon peeps,

Through sifting layers,

Beckons it forth…….

Promising pacifiers…….

 

But it rages and blazes

Only it will not give up,

It need not be shelved anymore,

Its fire consumes every hook up

 

The interstices are done away with

Now nothing lies in between;

Tornadoes have been lesser

And even hurricanes have not seen…..

 

The shrouds have burst

And the layers have dissolved.

The dream picked upon a flower,

Bosomed for long;

Has now drifted far.

Pedalling through can be easy……..

“No mama……I cannot cycle through this stretch……It’s rough”

I am shaken from my reverie. What did she just say? She is giving up again….and phew! there’s going to be another round of nudging and pushing; coaxing and then maybe I end up yelling.

How can you not lose your cool, when you have stalled all else to be here with her?

The endless chores, a dishevelled bedroom, a heap of laundry………..

You have probably read all those articles on motherhood……..and you say…..you pray silently that the almighty gives you patience .

“Okay…let’s see”, you manage to say and just then another kid whizzes past on his bike, enjoying the rough ride…..hmmm….a tough one that!!!! All this while she follows my gaze and knows what’s next.

For a change this time I say “Okay, let me do this first.”

I hum a tune and get onto her bike while she giggles at my frame looming over it. Mothers around watch me and probably seem amused. But I have to do this…….

I cycle over the rough patch, deliberately giving the assumption that it’s not easy for me too……I stumble and then balance well enough…….there are eyes on me.

I see a million dollar smile traversing her face; on completing my round I ask her if she wants to do the same…….and she says “Yes, maybe.”

My enraged spirit is more at ease.

I set a timer for her….. this time I need not plod, plead, mutter with clenched teeth or lecture.

An easy grace has swept upon her…….and she breezes through like a colourful butterfly on the rough terrain.

My day is done…….and in a way no parenting book could ever promise.

It is my soul in the wheels as they turn around every corner.

And the moral??

Only that sometimes I will need to peddle first!!