~ An Ode to My Rue ~

~ An Ode to My Rue ~

Once a folly, forever a folly,

I hummed to him, in a hushed voice,

Lying on my back, he on top,

‘Baby, never ever lie to me,

God sees everything, so do I,

Confide in me, now and ever,

I’m your friend, a foe never’

I then did commit a parenting folly,

Compared him with another child…

Nagged him with my undying query,

‘What did your teacher ask?

How did you do?

Oh! You were bad!

How did your friend ‘A’ do?’

These questions left an ugly mark,

A searing stain that I felt today,

I repeated the ONLY question,

‘How was your test, Baby?’

To which came one convincing reply — PAT,

‘I did good and my friends did bad’

A Mother — who can see through,

I saw the face of one nascent lie,

Stroking the buzzing parent alarm of chides,

Mincing my words and emotions, I purred,

‘Momma knows all, and nothing hides,

Never ever you dare and lie to me or any,

And for now —

Just go away and don’t talk to me’

Unruffled — he is watching Doraemon,

Whilst I’m jotting down my clammy surging feel,

Nervous, distressed, apprehensive, much sad!

What do I do now?

Where did I fall short?

Is folly a once, a folly forever?

Did my tetchy contrast instill in him

— A Lying Machine?

Is my Embryo blooming wrong altogether?

Or, would his butterflies sleep on a true flower?

~I See~

~I See~

A lie, you began, a lie, you bargain,

You, seeker, one liar,

Market of love — a lie, too

Giver, a bigger liar,

Eagle-feed on names,

What those eyes glare at?

What is the bait?

For whom is the wait?

If not for sleepless nights,

If not those feverish days,

What if no Majnu is pulling bizarre faces?

Fetching to those red teary eyes of Laila, a smile… Just a Smile…

Oh! What do I see, time and time again?

Two pricey glossy plastic hearts,

Maintaining balance sheet and,

Busy in Reconciliation art..

Such well chart out plans —

Affairs, do they say?

No loss, but profit is such sure — free fun,

And much a easy Fame!

~Killing A Spider~

~Killing A Spider~

Shrieking, he ran out of his bath tub,

‘Spider, spider, there is a spider,

Hanging upside down in the shower,

It has many, many huge fork legs, two big black eyes,

Clumping its teeth to have a bite of mine’

Out of his lost found breaths, underlined,

‘Spider, spider, there is one spider,

Momma, shoo it away, much sooner

Or better, kill it with an iron rod’

Gathering him in my big arms,

I tottered to the place of crime,

One look of one such horrid spider,

Bet you? Worth a worthy dime..

There hung one tiny as a seed,

Not of pumpkin, but a green lime..

Smilingly, I whispered in the ear

Of my clambering shouting monkey,

‘What did you see— it’s so, so small’

He shouted again, buried in my chest,

‘Call Lobo, the lizard, of my room,

He will eat it—chomp chomp chomp,

Or, bring one heavy, heavy, iron rod,

From under the wood staircase, and

Squash its head—crunch crunch crunch,

How lovely would it be, Momma,

To see it cold, crushed, blue and dead’

His smile and courage seemingly recouped

‘Love, it’s one small baby spider,

Hanging here to have some free fun,

If we’d kill it—crunch or chomp,

Its Momma would wait for it, forever, forever’

His smile vanished,

And on forehead one serious line swarmed,

‘Oh, is it Momma?’ he truly enquired

I just nodded, as a decision was to be made,

He cleared his throat, groaned, and again said,

‘Momma, let it have its share of shower and fun,

And, can I share with it one piece of my soft bun?’

I gladly agreed, one lesson was again grasped..

Good it may feel to trash a weakest of weak,

Chomp, crunch—may seem heavenly to ears,

But, walking on a smaller never makes one tall,

Instead, yes, magic does happen—

When sharing a shower or a meager bun!

~Gone~

~Gone~

What ink should I write our story?

What paper would eyes behold?

Trails that you never walked, or

Let pens slither on their own?

Once Gone, such easily you’d walk in,

Smiling away all the pain to forgone

Blinking still in the light of doubts,

I’d close my heavy eyes in familiar arms

Dreams would snatch me, eager ‘n nude

Lulling my fears into a labyrinth of loss

Then I’d hold your hands more tightly

Clutching them throughout my sleep

But, you’d steal them again, to be Gone

To return once more — again to be Gone..

This is our tale, a fable of false hopes

Who’d say?

What ink should I write our story?

What paper would eyes behold?

Tooti Kalam

Tooti Kalam

~Gulabi thand hai, garm razai aur godh main bikhare kuch kore panne,

Par alfazon ki dasht-e-syahi main, inn dooriyon ko kaise bhigoun?

Ek adhuri tooti kalam se,

Phate purane pannon pe,

Piya ko khat kaise likhun?~

~Pooch Aana Toh~

~Pooch Aana Toh~

Kisi rote hue bachhe se ek dafa pooch aana toh,

Koi khilona jab tootta hai toh kaisa lagta hai..

Kisi pareshaan haal bande se pooch aana toh,

Uska khuda jab roothta hai toh kaisa lagta hai..

Uss bilakhte aashiq ke dil se bhi pooch lena tu,

Hath sanam ka jab choothta hai toh kaisa lagta hai..

Bas waisa hi kuch haal meri zindagi ka bhi hai,

Tera har jhoot, ab saanson ko lootta sa lagta hai !

~An Agonizing Letter From A Quilt Lover~

Dear YOU,

World seems magically beautiful, wrapped in a hazy dream like fog…coolness of air tingling its ribs, caressing its chubby cheeks…birds lazing around atop high branches of some yellowish green tree…cats stealing the bits of nap from under the elbow of sleeping sun…Dogs, who are not as lazy as cats, waiting princely for their morning breakfast to fall from sky, if not Manna then at least a loaf of bread or some harassed naked bone…Soon they’d be seen chasing cars and playing with poly bags who’ve lost their way, and can be seen shivering and moseying the streets. Thank you lord, somebody still finds them usable…

Such is the immaculate and flawless beauty of winter, only if I could witness it from under my warm quilt. All enigmas are wasted, I tell you.

I tried though, somehow. Drilled a cave in my cozy quilt with the tools I had; my unenthusiastic hands. However, my iced up pink nose and watery glacial eyes took away all the joy.

I again let the quilt cave in, and hurl all its warmth and weight over me.

Would later chide the winter for its unruly attitude towards a nature lover, for now, I only wish to Hibernate! 

         Yours Truly, 

A Shivering Quilt Lover

A Moment Forever

Take me in your arms,

And make my heart fly..

Kiss me once and last,

A kiss, a love tale

Platinum true,

Honey sweet,

Moist tear,

Nude skin,

Sea deep,

Pure dew,

A kiss, rare as you…

And, hitherto,

Answer my soul’s ‘WHY’…

I draped myself in his favorite color Saree; deep blue it is. With thousands of silver stars hanging upside down, twinkling into my face, watching their clear ripple less reflection in my watery haze. He called me up in the evening from his office, and told me not to prepare dinner. It was our fifth anniversary. He had planned something as always, I knew.

Since last four years, on the eve of our anniversary, we have been dining out in our favorite restaurant. Exquisite diner, with such a romantic ambience, and that dim yellow light filling in the room would make you fall in love, again and again, with the place. I’ve loved this place always. A five year old relation indeed, akin to our marriage.

Exactly at 20:45, he was outside the house and rang the bell once. I can vouch anytime any day for my man and his patience. When I opened the door, he eyed me inanely from my auburn hair to my coral blue heels, from my mascara to my nail polish, but didn’t say a word. He as usual ambled towards our bedroom, grabbed his towel and walked into the bathroom to take his regular shower. He was tired, I knew. I could read his face easily and those tension lines on his cringed forehead would always narrate the story of his stressed day in a telltale voice. They did whisper to me today also, though in a bit louder tone.

Everything seemed normal; nothing offbeat; nothing special as from erstwhile.

Meal wasn’t cooked as instructed by him, and we would be skipping our dinner tonight it seemed. He was lying in bed, clothed in his Night Pajama and cotton tee. Neither having chutzpah, nor intention of inquiring about the dinner, I too slipped into my sleek pajama and loose T-shirt, and crawled into the bed, beside my kid. I’ve a four year old kid from my five years of marriage.

I slept, not out of choice but of my dire requirement to curb my heart wrench and surfacing tears.

At midnight, when clock arms were nevertheless romancing each other physically for the second time in a day, my cell phone beeped with a whatsapp ping. Reaching out for my phone, I tried to stare on its screen with my half opened eyes, squinting at the sudden brightness piercing the blinding darkness around. It was from him, and it read, ‘Happy Anniversary, my angry bird…oops, wifey.’

I turned around to look for him and there he was sitting at the edge of our bed smiling, with a perfect heart shaped cake resting in his place of sleeping.

‘Happy fifth anniversary,’ He mouthed the words,

not willing to stir the tranquility blooming in the moment.

I emulated his gesture flawlessly.

Cake was a mere trailer of what was yet to come or I’d have rather termed it as Love Ascending. Thereafter, I smelled nature's  freshness in my room, and a bouquet of red and white roses and Ferrero Rocher chocolates appeared from nowhere, like he had conjured the art of whooshing his magic wand and making the empty dry AC air transform into some desired object, sitting atop his palm or on bed.
Then followed one Alpino pack consisting of two golden wrapped wafer chocolate balls.Unwrapping those enveloped balls, individually, revealed us two enclosed secret love messages.

‘I’d like to be with you during a moment called Forever...’

‘Smile, if you have big nostrils. Because love is in the air...’

And we smiled to each other and to this beautiful moment. I was entirely basking in the cozy warmth of love. And, as if my heart wasn’t enough overwhelmed, he told me to get ready for another and the final surprise. My heart started racing not sure of what the next moment had in store for me. Pleasant for sure, but ‘what’ kept getting on my nerves till he elbowed and mimed making me look

towards the big wall clock as its pendulum swayed in rhythm with my heartbeats, or a tad slower. It was 00:40.

It was on October 11, 2008 that our Nika’h took place, at 00:40. This was the time we were waiting for us to cut our Anniversary cake.

He held my right hand and guided the knife into the heart of the heart shaped cake. And the sharp edge of knife hit something. I was yet to know.

A Platinum Ring. If you could imagine my ecstasy.

I shrieked. I yelled. I cried. I threw myself in his arms and hugged him tightly. And he said lovingly stroking my tousled tresses.

‘Platinum ring for the Platinum of my life. You did bear with me in my worst, endured every brusqueness our marriage offered you at times. Kept holding my finger  when I felt alone. Gave me needed sense of warmth and confidence. And made me feel most loved and precious.’

And I was already crying. But he continued. His words oozing like warm honey from the depths of his manly heart.

‘You’re as precious as any precious metal or gem in this world, and Platinum reminded me of you. Precious. Beautiful. A Lifelong partner. Rare and Eternal.’

I could only manage to say, ‘I love you’ and tears sopped my words. He held me tight in his strong embrace and rocked me till I could feel serenity dawning on me and my soul.
Love is as timeless as Platinum. I’d cherish both till I breathe.

I found my unique and perfect Platinum Day of Love.
And, we as soul-mates found our Love moment together. 

For now, and forever.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

PS—All the Pictures used here are from my Personal Album belonging to my Personal Life, and shouldn't be used anyway.    

                                                                                                                         

This post has been written for Platinum Day of Love        

Wish Me Spider

Photo Credit: Faraaz Kaazi

Wish Me Spider

~The same house but a different window

Uncharted terrains on an erstwhile horizon,

 Sky freshly painted orange and black

An abyss to be dived and drowned still

Find me there where life is unrehearsed

And, breaths dwell in cobwebs unfazed

Droplets of fear dangle homespun around

And, pearly thread-hung life smiles unbound!~

~A Mother

A rogue kid from his section bullied him, and the next day he carried a toy to school, hidden in his bag's front pocket.
When he was about to get off the car, his father looked into the bag owing to its unusual heaviness, and found one black color Toy Pistol.
On being lovingly prodded and after a bit of strict inquiring, he replied, ‘XYZ ne mere baal kheenche they kal, aaj main usko goli maar doonga…uski band baja doonga.’ (XYZ pulled my hair yesterday; today I'd shoot him, and make him suffer)

Yes, he is my kid, who uttered these words in a huff of anger to his shell-shocked father.
I wanted to smile on this little Dabang(Rowdy) born of me, but the birthing of some Devil inside my little kid scared me to hell.
These little devils thwarting in little hearts turn into monsters if not smothered and crushed.
What should I infer?
Nil patience and so much anger…where would it lead the next generation to?
What would be my kid's behavior after twenty years down the line from this incident, with more physical strength and increased exposure to real Toys of death and destruction?
And, last but not the least…
Whom should I call Rogue?
Any kid bullying my kid, or the society and movies embedding this nonsense in small innocent brains…
I'm clueless!

~A Mother