A Prolonged Fever

The fever is really fevering today,

It started on a Wednesday,

And hasn't said goodbye yet,

I'm suddenly missing being ammumma's pet,

She would have had Gold Spot ready,

As my head felt heavy,

Two sips of Gold Spot,

Would have hit the right spot,

Fevers are the worst,

It makes you feel cursed,

Both the mind and body are scrambled,

The mouth will probably join in and ramble,

So so sick,

I feel like a pile of useless bricks.

Jumping Riaan

Being crashed on fifty times a day,

In various ways,

With sound effects in toe,

For each "barrel roll",

Starting with wham, crash and boom,

Calling himself "Trash IRL", he's a little goon,

Terrorizing peaceful evenings,

And slow, lazy afternoons,

His toothless naughty chuckle,

Has my already broken back in a buckle,

Just another day of being Riaan's mom,

With my baby monkey around, I hardly get any time to feel forlorn.

Meltdown Fridays

It began with a 5am rain,

Followed by a whole lot of pain,

Hysterical sobs, announcing that school is hard,

And in general that the soul is charred,

Just kidding, I doubt a 6 year old understands what a soul is,

His tears in the meantime, continued to brim and fizz,

Hands dramatically folded,

Along with his legs nicely moulded,

I gave in quite quickly to his request,

Putting his mind to rest,

School is hard, I agreed,

Sometimes in life, we need the opposite of speed,

If slow Friday's are what your 6 year old desires,

Just give in and don't put his or her heart on a pyre,

Let them be,

Happy and free. 

Letting Go

Love is the art of letting go. And no one has explained this better to us than Doctor Stephen Strange. He watched Christine getting married in the multiverse, he proclaimed his undying love for her in another.

And that is love. To let go over and over again. Because you can't force someone to feel the same for you.

Whenever you do think of them, think of them with love and light and wish them the best. There's no point in forcing, chasing or begging someone for their time and attention.

Love simply is. It's either there or it isn't. It's as simple as that. So cry over that "almost-person", drown yourself with an entire bottle of Bailey's, talk about him or her until kingdom come with all your best friends, but ultimately let go.

For only if you let go, do you allow your heart and lives' doors to be flung open again to be filled with the right person.

I lived a Shakespearen sonnet with my late husband. To lose someone you're still in love with it and thrive after that person's long gone, now that's a love story for the books as well.

Let go my friend, let go. It's the only happy conclusion for you and whoever it is, that you are fantasizing about. 

Anxiety

Recently someone described me as, "A person who'll go into war and win that battle. However you're petrified of the rats in your own house and really lose your shit!" That was the first time I laughed during the course of those tense 24 hours.

Anxiety and negative self-talk have been my best friends for as long as I can remember. I'm never fully convinced when good things happen to me. I either sabotage it in my own head or worst case, sabotage it for the people around me.

Luckily, the folks closest to me, understand this screw loose situation in my head and look past it. Unfortunately, those who are trying to get to know me, either abandon ship and run or they stick around and we remain good friends.

My anxiety has gotten worse over the years and some days I feel extremely low. The human brain is complex and I haven't been able to figure out mine yet.

In the meantime, icecream and butter chicken help, along with 45 minute swims. Mental health, drumbeaten enough and more by the Gen Zees are something we must seriously consider improving.

Zero mental health equals a poor quality of living. The human brain, can either be your best friend or worst enemy. We're all either stuck inside the cages we create or we're free like carefree pigeons, pooping all over people's heads. 

Let's choose to be the pigeon. Happy and poopy. 

Accountability

In a world full of asslicking charmers, who keep showering you with praises, choose to listen to Hulk instead. They're honest, blunt, direct, in your face and hit you with truth bombs that completely blow you away. 

Accountability, both in the personal and professional front is surprisingly missing. Perhaps, it's the system that has moulded people this way or ridiculous apps that have destroyed the sanctity of relationships. There's not one single factor, but multiple of them, that have left people with no spine.

Instead of ghosting someone, choose to have that difficult 15 minute conversation with them. Instead of showering someone with praises mindlessly and then running away from their lives so blatantly, tell them what they did to piss you off.

Let's face it, we're all spoilt little brats, masquerading as adults in broad daylight. Our childhood was filled with adults and siblings, who gave in to most of our desires. 

As adults, perhaps we have the same unrealistic expectations from people we meet. Therefore, meeting Hulk once in a while is a breath of fresh air. I have immense respect for these kind, yet angry souls. God bless them and let there be more of them in this fake-nice world. 

Honouring the Dead

Let's face it, in India we have an age old tradition of honouring the dead. We talk about them, we hang photographs of them at home, we perform pooja's annually and we even get tattoos dedicated to them.

My two pence in keeping up with this ritual for my late husband is by visiting Starbucks at least 2-3 times a month. He was a regular Starbucks customer. The outlets he visited knew his drink by heart and would have it ready, even before he reached the counter.

Family weekends were also spent in Starbucks. I'd order the drink of the week, advertised in shiny posters right outside and inside the outlet, which would taste terrible. And he'd end up making fun of me for buying it.

3 years and 8 months since he's been gone and Starbucks gives me so much peace each time I visit. A part of me hopes to bump into him and another just breathes in the aroma of the coffee and snacks being churned out around me.

I took our son to Starbucks yesterday evening and I felt the cycle being complete. He no longer remembers his father, but he vaguely remembers Starbucks from all our visits in Bombay.

As I took a picture of him and me sitting together, inside Starbucks, I almost shed a tear. I think his father would have been proud to know, that he's successfully converted a Starbucks hater into a lover.

While the Americano still doesn't sit well inside my tummy, the ambience and the savoury snacks are something I look forward to soaking in, at least once a week.

I saw a formally dressed man, working furiously on his laptop last evening inside Starbucks and it instantly reminded me of my workaholic, late husband. 

It's funny how the dead never leave you, even if they have in reality. 

Meltdown Sundays

"No" to Nutties at the crack of dawn,

Had my peaceful morning torn,

The next screech was for sharpening pencils,

Never underestimate the will,

Of a 6 year old,

Who has made up his mind to completely fold,

Mouth so wide open, you can see his tonsils,

Big fat tears that stick to his fluffy cheeks and sparkle,

The decibel levels well before 8am,

Will make you want to scram,

Too heavy to pick up and console,

You end up with an awkward shove on the lap, as he continues to howl,

A generation that takes us for granted,

With YouTube ideas already firmly planted,

You crack a joke about his kitchen mischief,

And how the water drenched him like a fountain, which abruptly ends his grief,

A quick bounce out of the lap,

And he bursts into hysterical laughs,

I breathe a sigh of relief,

As his mood turns a new leaf,

Tears give way to smiles,

And I realise we have so many more miles,

Of tears and laughter left.

The Friday Exhaustion

The Friday exhaustion is real,

Somewhere in the middle of a ranting call, I heard myself squeal,

And completely broke down over the loss of my husband,

The grief shook me, I assumed I was already accustomed,

Who knew, a tiring week,

Would make me feel so weak,

I was drained,

And relieved,

For letting out a hysterical sob,

I could feel the violent throb,

Inside my brain and heart,

Those feelings never rest,

It hits you waves,

And clogs your breathing and airwaves,

Perhaps I should rest,

But this elephant sized memory that I have, makes me feel both cursed and blessed,

The Friday exhaustion is real,

And it's only human to let out an occasional squeal. 

Whoopsie Wednesdays

Got bitten by an ant this morning,

Accidentally broke a glass bottle without warning,

The brain's a ball of mush today,

Just the same as yesterday 

I struggle to put one word in front of the other,

My edits, a failed attempt to smother,

The key message, 

Splat in the middle of every tumbling paragraph, like a stubborn carriage,

Perhaps I am done,

I stop typing so maniacally, my fingers exhausted from being a rabid gun,

I munch on a giant Toblerone bar,

Trying to erase invisible scars,

A shitty day can always be turned around,

Simply by looking around,

Exhausting Wednesdays,

In our heads we dramatically convert them to doomsdays.

Drunk Awakenings

As I down one sugary glass of alcohol after another,

The face of my late love begins to appear, without too much of a bother,

I truly believe,

Alcohol has the ability to weave,

Reality with fiction,

I suddenly begin to natter without restriction,

Let me correct, natter more,

Perhaps I become a bore,

In my most drunk state,

I feel great,

On top of the world even,

While the floor beneath my feet feels uneven,

I cannot be trusted with alcohol,

My body gets into a slow crawl,

My brain's contents further enhanced,

I become entranced,

With everything and nothing,

I find myself constantly chuckling,

High my spirits,

Along with the alcoholic spirits,

Cheers!

Brothers

This bonding of brothers,

Is like no other,

They scream and fight,

With all their might,

When it's time to bid adieu,

Their hearts turn blue,

Sobbings eyes and hysterical chests,

Their minds are far from rest,

The love they have for one another,

Is like no other,

All you can do is stand by and watch,

Witnessing their love for one another go up every year by a notch,

How wonderful that they have one another,

This beautiful bond of brothers,

Bonded by blood,

Our family's three little studs.