Despair

In the midst of chaos,

I try to look at the red flowers

That grow unassumingly 

In my unkempt backyard and wonder

If they know

How fucked the world is right now. 

I wonder if the kingfisher

That my son and I often spot

From the nursery window

Gives a hoot about 

Viruses, wars and religions.

I'm sure my dog is happier 

Than he lets on.

He has better things to worry about

Than money or rations or broken backs;

For example-

"Is that the neighbour's cat I just smelled?"

Or

"Should I be barking at that dalmatian?"

And the neighbour's cat is definitely

Better off.

There's always enough milk,

The sun is always shining,

And there are always enough rats

To get by on through these days,

Through this life. 

Bed Story

When you aren't around,

And I'm nowhere to be seen

You can simply find me

On your side of the bed. 

Trying to smell the sheets,

Caressing your pillow,

Hiding under your blanket. 

It smells of linen, freshwater,

And a cozy fireplace

By which we hang Christmas stockings

And discuss the dreams

That we see for each other.

And when you return,

I breathe a sigh of relief-

I can't hold fort without you.

This bed is too big,

And I am too little without you. 

First Words

Maybe the reason why
A baby's first words are baba and mama
Isn't hidden in physiological technicalities.
Maybe the syllables are uttered
As the earliest confession
By the child
Who is trying to tell us
Who matters the most.
Creators, nurturers, providers;
Maybe the little new heart already knows
Who made it,
And has decided to pay an ode to them
With these new sounds.
Mama.
Baba.
Like the flapping of wings of a happy bird
That has finally reached home, safe and sound.
  

Epigram

That coffee and coffin

Are separated by two tiny letters

Must be an unlikely coincidence

That chose to be

Merely to tease the tongue.

Fuel your rusted engines with one,

And rest in peace in the other. 

One of life's little epigrams-

Meant to tickle, threaten and also announce

How little control we have

Over the energies on earth.

We are God's puppets, dancing,

On a tinderbox of mystique.

The Audacity Of Womankind

You might not wish to share

Your deepest thoughts;

It may seem like an audacious intrusion

And 

An unwanted attack

On your privacy, your secrecy,

Your softly uttered opinions. 

Or you may be like me-

Who adores the stage,

The spotlight, and the applause.

Who has learnt to be loud,

To yell, to roar and to sing

With abandon and gaiety and courage-

Because that is the only way

The world hears women. 

I have learnt 

To turn up the volume.

The Birth Of An Idea

In the primordium of every idea, in that primitive state of nonexistence when it isn't tangible enough for you to hold but the beginnings of the idea grip your innards like an unrelenting tendril, that is when you know that the ride will be memorable, the journey will be long. And you certainly hope that it is long; a happy, lengthy marriage of idea and execution. It is in that period that you can truly flourish and grow and enrich your life. 

You may even take a few moments now and then during this journey to imagine various future probabilities. Perhaps this shall be your ticket to greatness, to the big leagues, to the hall of fame. Perhaps this shall be your safety harness, your hidden piggy bank for financial security when and if you ever need such an armour. Perhaps this shall drive away your demons and clear your entangled thoughts.

You imagine and then create, and in the midst of this occupation, life continues to flow past like a joyous river. You contemplate jumping into the flow and going where it wishes to take you, or you just carve a boat out of falling logs and sail to your own shores. 

The path is long, the journey even longer, and your resolve the strongest. 

Supermom

Motherhood can be so hard sometimes. When your baby chooses to soil his diaper in the middle of the night, while your doting partner sleeps in preparation for a long day of work ahead, your long night must now begin. The diaper change ends up disturbing your baby and waking him up wide enough to realize that mama is, infact, awake too and can actually play with him. So an hour or so of reluctant playing later, you fix him a bottle and pray for some sleep. But sleep is an elusive little minx that has been playing hide and seek with me for the past one year.

We live close to a railway line so every morning I hear the 4:50 am local train huffing and puffing its way to the nearest station. This gets followed by the 5 am call to prayer from a mosque that's a short distance away. While the azaan only brings me fond memories from the day I gave birth (read this to learn about the connection) it also informs me that morning has officially broken and I have a few hours left to myself to raid my secret reserves of mom-energy so I can take on the day with sufficient gusto to entertain my little angel for the next twenty-four hours.

I am my son's jester, his cook, his doctor, his nurse, his friend, and so very often his enemy (because guess who's the good cop in this family?). I spend my day in ratty old (super comfortable) yoga pants because suddenly, comfort is key to a happy day. I avoid wearing earrings because my toddler likes to grab them and pull them like juicy opportunities he doesn't wish to miss. No perfume for me either because he's teething and loves nibbling on my neck which I am okay with because whatever helps ease his swollen little gums is a godsend in my eyes.

Yes, I know I've made motherhood sound like a terribly difficult job which takes so much from you, but that's the thing- it isn't a job at all. It becomes you in the most organic fashion imaginable. You don't need to make any of these efforts because there isn't anything else you'd rather be doing with your time and energy. At least not me. Our son has become our top priority in such an unchallenged way that you might laugh at us for being such softies. He has enriched our lives in such a holistic way- I try to be kinder, more responsible, more considerate, more educated and more open to change because of this little boy. 

So after those toilsome nights that leave me puffy-eyed, groggy and cranky, I look at his dimples and hear him call me 'mummum' and am immediately recentered. 

He has transformed me and given me the strength to take on this world with guts, gumption and gaiety. 

And of course, the caffeine helps seize the day because even superheroes need an energy source, and who's a bigger superhero than your mother?
(NO ONE).