Butter Chicken

Kerala porotta and butter chicken,

Is sure to make your heart weaken,

Sickness or good health,

There is no greater wealth,

Than drowning yourself in luscious butter chicken,

I feel my pulse quicken,

My mood brighten,

The knots in my heart loosen up and lighten,

There's no problem in the world that butter chicken can't solve,

I find my body pain dissolve,

Come fever, ill health,

Or even if you're in the pink of health,

Butter chicken is your friend for life,

Dont believe me, have a bite and experience the euphoric feeling of being alive,

Butter chicken, thank you for being born,

A couple of bites of you and I no longer feel forlorn. 

Embracing Widowhood

I was 34 with a 2 year old in toe, when my husband decided to pop off at work. Now, I had two options - cry about it until kingdom come or get my shit together and figure this out. I chose option #2 obviously, because I hate crying. 

In this three year period, I suddenly became the poster girl for death. All and sundry began to reach out to me over young dead people falling flat. I counselled them and then found myself taking a dig at my Bailey's.

Have I been able to shut down the darkness in my head, after three years? Nope. That was my husband and my life that went up in smoke. The darkness lives on, and I am the darkness. Picture a chatty, annoying Batman who asks too many questions. I am chatty Batman. Hello! Nice to meet you. 

To everyone experiencing death right now, there's no easy way to figure this out. Plunge yourself in the pain. Cry it out, eat it out, scream it out, break it out. There's no one size fits all, when it comes to curing grief. And there's no curing grief by the way. You'll always be grieving.

Your dead loved ones, will sneak up into your brain, when you least expect it. I cope with Bailey's - multiple flavours - Espresso, Caramel, Bailey's original and then there's low fat, sugar free icecream too. But nothing beats my Bailey's. 

I'm sane, most of the time. But when I'm not, I allow myself to just be. I let my cuckoo self out and allow her to cry and scream. Single parenting along with widowhood, is like taking a walk in the park - the Jurassic Park. My child roars louder than a T-Rex. 

But it's all good, I'm as happy as I can possibly be given the circumstances. Life is filled with decadent ada-pradhaman and play dates. I have a wonderful family and lovely girlfriends. What more could I possibly ask for?

Changes

As I stand on the threshold to another change,

The darkness in my head decides to take centerstage,

All alone again,

Just about to step into a brand new terrain,

You're not here, yet again,

As I stand to lose or gain, 

Anxiety and sadness fill my heart,

Perhaps I should drown myself in art,

Or eat an icecream,

To quickly dry up my tear-stream,

You're not listening anyway,

To the thoughts I mumble out everyday,

Another path, another adventure,

This life without you is definitely not a curse,

But the journey is bittersweet,

For I know we'll take a long time to meet,

My work has just begun,

Now is not the time to come undone,

Wish me luck and sprinkle some magic from up above,

My one true love. 

My Dearest Poopie

It was in that scene of Marcus dying,

I began crying,

The exact moment was when Captain Howard hugged Marcus in heaven and whispered, "It's not your time,"

That I burst into hysterical fits, 

No one hugged you and told you the same,

Instead you went straight up and nothing has ever been the same, 

I can still hear your laughter ringing in my ears,

And can smell your freshly brewed Espresso after all these years,

There's a vast ocean of emptiness,

An unerasable heaviness,

You're everywhere,

Yet nowhere,

As Marcus stuck out his naked bum,

And held onto his best chum,

I laughed and cried,

Knowing how much you would've loved watching the latest Bad Boys movie with me, 

My soulmate in heaven,

I'll find you in another life, afterall there are seven. 

My Little Boy

My little boy, is an adamant one,

He has a fever of 101,

Yet, he wants to go to his play gym,

I have to give in to his every whim,

The word NO,

Makes him throw his head back and roar,

He screams, he cries and he stomps his feet,

Along with racing his baby heart beat,

Short tempered and full of drama,

Everyone around him mutters, "Rama-Rama"

With a mind of his own,

He's on a league of his own,

A rebel without a cause,

His naughtiness has no pause,

I put up a fight,

With all my might,

I'm determined to convert this monkey,

Into a gentleman and not a toy hoarding junkie,

Wish me luck,

And the strength to make many more bucks,

I'll need both to raise my boy wonder,

There's a lot to ponder,

Our work has just begun,

But we'll do it together, as a team of one.

Three

Three years since you've been physically gone,

Your memories still live on,

I miss our late night drives,

Those are chapters from our life, which I've mentally archived,

You knew me, like the back of your hand,

For most of our fights, you took a stand,

Gaajar halwa or Theobroma brownies,

Instantly took away my frownies,

I'm eyeing a Minnie Mouse ring watch now,

Which I know you would've picked up for me, had you been alive,

I miss you quietly and loudly,

I mourn you proudly,

Happy to have met you,

Blessed to have been married to you, 

I'm mostly okay,

 I've mastered how to push the pain away.