Goodbyes

The worst goodbyes,

Are the ones where you didn't even get to say hi,

Nice and proper,

Blink and it's over, like a speedy chopper,

You're left scratching your head,

Wondering what you could have said,

To stay in that moment a little longer,

It's best to not linger,

Over memories of the past,

However great they were, for it did not last,

So pack up your feelings, 

Focus on healing,

Only things that are meant to stay,

Will stay,

Move along, there's nothing left to see,

Unburden your heart and feel free,

Make space for the right ones,

Who will love you tons. 

Mothers

Mothers, mine to be specific,

Has always been a critic,

Go to her with a problem,

And she'll sound far from solemn,

First, you'll receive a whack,

Next, she'll tell you, to stand up for yourself and have a better knack,

For judging people and situations,

Minimize your communications,

Think before you speak,

This is the right technique,

To deploy in all situations, 

This will better your relations,

At home, work and with your son,

I've seen her soften, only for both her grandsons,

For her own kids, it was always,

"You break my curios, I'll break your bum in many ways",

She's a tough one, my mom,

Even when a million bombs burst around her, she's calm. 

Toddler Meltdowns

Woke up quiet as a mouse,

Scurried around like a thief in my own house,

Just as I begin to relieve my bladder,

My bundle lets out a blood-curdling wail, sounding madder and madder,

"How dare you wake up mumma?",

He scratches on my bathroom door without a pause or a comma,

When I step out, I'm greeted with more screams,

And twisted schemes,

"You should have woken me up!",

He rattles on, like a toy that's wound-up, 

The next fight brews post bath,

I didn't do the math,

Of tying up the nada of his track pants,

He wanted to do it all by himself he rants,

"It needs two tugs",

"Not three, you nasty old girl", at this point I wished I had earplugs,

Toddler meltdowns,

There's no need to feel down,

At some point they zip it,

And slowly admit,

To being clowns,

Now I'm off to work, back to resetting my crown,

All is well with the world,

Until the next toddler meltdown is unfurled. 

New Mom

It's hard being a new mom,

You're suddenly handed a human atom bomb,

Pregnancy was hard,

The labour pain threw you off guard,

The creature you've given birth to,

Is always howling and blue,

You've suddenly become a human cow,

And you're wondering how you ever allowed,

Such a thing to happen, 

The sleepless nights and days make you feel like a restless komodo dragon,

When will this tiny creature stop crying,

Despite you supplying,

An endless amount of milk and comfort,

The first three months are blurry and filled with discomfort,

The next three are triumphant,

You get the hang of motherhood somewhat,

Just when you thought you aced it all,

Comes a fever or a cough to make you fall,

Between the postpartum depression and the sleepless nights,

You realise life as you know it has reached a different height,

You watch your heart walking outside your body,

And you whisper in his ear, you can be anybody,

Mumma will always be by your side,

In this crazy ride.

Emotional Eating

Food drowns out pain,

And evokes joy, pakodas in the rain,

Ice cream for heartbreaks,

Mountains of steak,

Just because, you heard someone say protein intake,

Is better than stuffing yourself with mounds of cake,

The truth is, you can't drive away your sadness,

Or shoo away the darkness,

With food,

That's no good,

Put the emotional eating away,

Sit with your pain and it will go away,

Let it hit you like daggers,

Then focus on the things that matter,

Let the runners run,

There's nothing you could have done or undone,

In the meantime, skip the emotional eating,

It's self-defeating.

Appuppan

The glue that held our family together,

With him by our side, any storm we could weather,

My days were incomplete,

If one crazy fight was not complete,

Involving glasses of liquor being thrown,

Or food not being left alone,

More a friend, than a grandfather,

Appuppan was unlike most grandfathers,

He taught us swear words in Malayalam,

And introduced us to food that would have easily made its way to Instagram,

He was crazy and unique and fun,

He filled our lives with warmth, similar to the rays of the sun,

Twenty years since he's been gone,

Life has undergone,

Drastic changes,

But I'll always be appuppan's Gayu through the ages. 

Soulful Cooking

A soul of a person can be captured in a well cooked dish,

You can taste the chef's every aspiration and wish,

When food is cooked with love,

It tastes heavenly and from above,

There's a difference between food that's machine made,

And hand made,

Especially when it comes to desserts,

The flavour and the wholesome goodness of the ingredients, capture all your senses at first,

Next, your mouth begins cooing a satisfied tune,

You find yourself over the moon,

This is love in its purest form,

Just you and your raspberry cheesecake, that makes you feel all warm,

That burst of sweet cloud mixed with the Graham cracker,

Has finally put an end to all banter,

Silence and more silence,

Is the only thing you require to polish off that gorgeous slice of resplendence. 

Powerful Mondays

Mondays, they either bring you down,

Or leave you feeling like you deserve a crown,

After the lull of the weekend,

You're forced to plug back in, with full guns blazing from all ends,

Monday is a strange mixture of happiness,

And anxiousness,

You feel like a fresher straight out of college,

Who has limited knowledge,

On how to behave,

What if you dig your own grave,

Oh wait, I do that everyday,

Monday through Sunday,

Despite the leg kicks under the table,

And signals to shut up and leave, I'm simply unable,

To be diplomatic or politically correct,

Lesson learnt, I announce, if I want to say something nasty and then I'm told to either change the subject,

Or dive right in,

My heart's always been on my sleeve, I speak from within,

Not a great trait,

On weary/powerful Mondays when folks are just beginning to think straight. 

The Beach

Happy childhoods are created on beaches,

As the water thrashes,

One majestic wave after wave on the shore,

And the waves crash and roar,

You find yourself getting pulled,

Into the magical foams that have cooled,

Your mind and body,

With your wind-blown hair and soaking wet clothes, you suddenly look shoddy,

Look around you, the ocean doesn't care,

How you look and what you wear,

Make merry and laugh,

Your worries would have melted by now, in half,

Beaches, a magical place,

That urges you to slow down and momentarily forget the rat race. 

My Sweet Little Boy

My sweet little boy,

Who took refuge in his toys,

When days got weird and dark,

He never lost his spark,

He had some clue,

Of the life changing events unfolding around him, and he seemed blue,

Each time he witnessed an adult having a  meltdown,

He looked upset and down,

At two years old,

He could sense the chill and the cold,

Of darkness and death,

That took away everyone's breath,

Over two years down,

He's forgotten most of what ensued and is quite a clown,

I'm not sure if I'm giving him a happy childhood,

I had to roll up and become two parents overnight,

I drowned myself at work,

And decided to make it work,

This is our situation and it's not a bad one,

I've hopefully instilled in my son,

The importance of never backing down or giving up,

Life is never pefect, it's random and abrupt,

We'll face it all,

And always stand tall.

Headspace

How do you pull yourself out of a dark headspace,

Give yourself space,

And keep pace with the demons in your head,

Talk to them, take the lead, 

Allow yourself to feel all the pain,

Make friends with your sadness, you have much to gain,

Revisit the moments that cut you in half,

Over and over again, until you can laugh,

One day, you'll look back and feel proud,

That you disallowed,

Your sorrow to take over your life,

It was nothing but a passing cloud that caused some strife,

You're still you,

Just less blue, you suddenly have the choice of starting life anew,

Make bold choices,

Tune out all the white noises,

You've made it this far,

So keep raising the bar.

The Water

I took to water, like fish to the sea,

It's the only place, I feel free,

Unburdened from worldly responsibilities,

I must've been a big fat whale, pooping and farting as I pleased,

Not a care in the world,

Just a tummy to fill, inside a cool blue waterworld,

It's highly unlikely I was a mermaid,

Look at the figure on that thing, I'm full fat, food and sweet liqueur made,

On a serious note,

I vote,

For an hour long swim,

Each time you feel low, stressed or burdened to the brim, 

Your worries flow away with the water,

Lap after lap, gives you time to ponder,

On what went wrong and what didn't,

When you emerge out of the water you feel coherent,

Life must flow,

Just like water, there's only so much you can control and know,

So hold your breath and breathe underwater,

Try not to eat like a pig, post that swim and you may even look hotter.  

Five Almonds

I once met this gorgeous bald headed uncle,

Who had no trouble,

Staying fit,

His techniques were a hit,

Even the trainers took lessons from him,

He advised me; eating five Almonds a day, is a sure shot way to stay trim,

"Guess my age?", he asked one day,

"50", I replied, without delay,

He chuckled and said, "I'm 60, dear girl",

"Eat five almonds everyday, to make your face look radiant like a pearl"

So I've been eating those five almonds everyday,

To keep my weight at bay,

The one commonality between uncle and me,

Is the lack of hair, mine are ready to flee,

From my crown everyday,

But I'm eating those five almonds everyday.

Shopping with Mommy

Shopping with Mommy,

Is no tomfoolery, 

She will ensure a hole in your wallet,

And she's unwilling to call it,

Quits, until she finds the perfect shoe, bag or dress, 

Minus the stress,

She can fit an entire roadside fair,

Or a mall inside her Calonge handbag, to be fair,

She has a great eye for clothes and household decor,

She's happy to explore,

A million shops for a painting or a vase,

A bedsheet or a new lamp, for she will find space,

In her curio cluttered house,

That has zero space for even a mouse,

How anyone can shop like this, is a mystery,

Your wallet is sure to bite dust and warn you of history,

Shop with Mommy,

And you'll experience the equivalent of a human tsunami.

Mini-Me

My sweet little baby,

Who refuses to sleep without me and drives me crazy,

Today, he's all grown up, with two little wings,

Not kidding about the wings,

He's a firefly,

Just about to take the stage and deliver a few lines without feeling shy,

He's bold as brass,

Naughtiest in his class,

How fast did my little one grow,

Where did all the time go,

Just yesterday I gave birth to a pre-term baby,

And today he's all set to light up the stage with his crazy,

He's a loony one,

My little fellow, his idea of fun,

Is strange and absurd,

Most of his games will have you feeling dizzy and blurred,

On one hand, he still scratches the bathroom door while I'm having a bath,

On the other, he's already carving his own path,

He's an odd mixture of baby and mini-man,

His mind always filled with devious plans,

Blink and you'll find toilet paper ripped all over the floor,

Turn and you'll find a toy inside the flush, but who is keeping score,

I'm off to watch my firefly take stage,

I'll try not to shed a tear from backstage. 

Agasthya and Riaan

Was it love at first sight,

Or first fight,

No one can really pinpoint and say,

But the boys had a way,

Of gravitating towards each other, everyday,

Inseparable, the two and one can spot the other, from far away,

One is heartbroken, if the other doesn't attend school,

All is well and cool,

As long as they have each other,

Stuffing napkins and dirt in their water bottles, destruction and plunder,

Is the route they love to take,

Their affection for each other is far from fake,

After spending half a day in school,

The boys swap WhatsApp voice notes that sound both colourful and ghastful,

Riaan promptly reports his projectile vomiting sessions,

To Agasthya, with soulful expressions,

And Agasthya replies, "Are you joking?",

Riaan swiftly retorts with something provoking,

Agasthya and Riaan, the dynamic terrorizing duo,

All you can do, is stand by, watch helplessly and go with the flow.

KFC Bouquet

Two decades since I've been dreaming of a KFC Bouquet,

The best gift on any given day,

Why has this gorgeous deep fried goodness,

Wrapped in dreamy paper, not been invented yet, has the world been neglected of this on purpose,

I should start a KFC Bouquet business on the side,

I'm sure my clientele would be from far and wide,

Just picture that KFC Bouquet for a second,

It's a force to be reckoned,

It's sure to make anyone go weak in the knees,

Work stress, marital fights, family disputes, it has the power to freeze,

Let me not waste time now,

I'm off to buy a KFC bucket and some cellophane wrap, I'm going to give myself the gift of a KFC Bouquet, look at it and say wow!

Boon or Bane

That gooey delight,

Brown and delicious, a mouthwatering sight,

For sore eyes, 

The dark ones claim to make you wise,

Grab some after lunch and dinner,

And perhaps for all the meals in-between, and try not to feel like a sinner,

Dark, milky, white or stuffed generously with nuts,

Your heart will go nuts,

For chocolates,

Both big and small, round and squared, everyone's favourite,

Find me a person who hates chocolates,

Perhaps their skins would be flawless,

But their hearts would be shrunken and empty,

Their minds painfully heavy,

For what is life without chocolates,

Meaningless, pointless and tasteless.

Skinny Man

A colleague at work,

With his funky shirts,

Always border lining between formals and informals,

While his shirts are cool, what's paranormal,

Is his weight,

He shows me his nonexistent belly and says, "mate",

Ate a triple cheese burger last night,

And I fume, this isn't right,

I just drank water last night,

And look at my belly, that's far from light,

While he's ageing in reverse,

My love handles get worse,

In his defence, he works out even in his sleep,

While I'm sleepwalking in my colony and dodging the occasional Jeep,

One day I'll get skinny,

Until then, I'll try not to be whiny. 

Next Life Dreams

It's good to be ambitious, 

No need to be judicious,

When dreaming a little dream,

But what if I told you all my dreams ran out of steam,

I always wanted to be an actress,

Dance around a few trees, earn a couple of crores, but my eating and figure were both disastrous,

Next, I wanted to work in Pizza Hut,

Just to gobble down half a dozen pizzas and stuff my gut,

I genuinely wanted to join the army,

But was fiercely dissuaded by mommy,

I wanted to be a journalist,

But my salary could hardly cover all the samosas I gobbled in chutney mixed with chillies and mint,

I wanted to be a sexy mermaid,

Once again, I got played,

Why be half fish and half woman,

Just to be deep fried and eaten by man,

I wanted to be a space cowboy,

But the job is apparently for a boy,

Dream a little dream,

Make sure they don't run out of steam.

That Time Of The Month

That time of the month,

When you're body writhes in pain and you just want to be blunt,

Don't touch, don't talk and don't expect the moon,

We'll be back to our normal selves soon,

But for the next five days,

Just allow us to be in our haze,

Everything hurts,

There's a volcano in our tummies, so excuse us if we're curt,

You can throw chocolates our way,

And run away,

We'd appreciate the sweet treats,

And munch on them as our aching bodies squeak,

That time of the month,

That wretched time of the month,

Where tornadoes, typhoons and storms,

Feel far better than the swarm,

Like attack,

That makes us feel like useless sacks.

Weekdays and Weekends

How fast do the weekends fly,

It makes me want to cry,

I enjoy the emptiness of the brain,

And the lack of strain,

Weekdays fly by too,

But with a lot of hullabaloo,

There are deadlines to meet,

And some tasks on repeat,

Monday hits you hard on the face,

And suddenly you're forced to speeden your pace,

Forgotten are the afternoon naps,

Instead you brace yourself for some solid raps, 

You find yourself counting the days down for the weekend,

That glorious end,

To a busy week,

In the interim, try not to shriek,

Chocolates exist only to relieve stress,

So pop on them vigorously, to clear the mind's mess. 

Yellow Laddus

Laddus or leddo, as mallus call them,

Each time I crave it, my mind goes mmmm,

Memories of ammumma deep frying the boondis,

Inside a huge cauldron of ghee, that comforting fragrance I miss,

Along with the sight of ammumma meticulously rolling them inside her chubby fingers,

The taste lingers,

In the back of my mouth even today,

As I order away,

On Zomato, for that delicious box of childhood,

I know deep down, it won't be as good,

As ammumma's laddus,

Or leddos,

As she called them.

Dear Bridget

Dear Bridget,

I have a little midget,

Minus my Mr Darcy,

In fact, I've forgotten my Darcy,

The world is filled with Cleavers now,

Who charm you and make you go wow,

But before you get to the main course or dessert,

They've told you to divert,

They were just looking for starters,

So let's not be martyrs,

We move along,

And force ourselves to sing a happy song,

Of course when friends banter about their happy homes,

I disappear like Sherlock Holmes,

"You won't die alone", they reassure,

I chuckle and retort, "How can you be sure?",

It's a lonely world Bridget,

But at least I have my midget.

Happiness is Hardwork

No one is truly happy,

And always sappy,

No one's life is perfect,

Look close and you'll find the spots that are wrecked,

You can cry over it,

Or choose to pull yourself out of that pit,

Happiness is hard work,

Choosing to do the inner work,

Takes effort and courage,

Give yourself a solid nudge,

To snap out of that toxic rut,

Believe your gut,

And have faith that good things are yet to come,

Until that time, strum or drum,

A happy tune,

And stay immune,

To negative thoughts.

Insomnia

The brain has not shut up since 4.30AM,

On weekdays it's asleep till 4.30P.M,

Gulmohar Malare has been playing in my head,

However hard I try to rest in bed,

It's been a mishmash of craving poha and wanting to tell Prasanth,

No bro, dupattas cannot be tied around any man,

When women themselves find it annoying,

It's scratchy around the neck, and was meant only for destroying,

I've burnt all three of mine,

Archaic, it's design,

And pointless it's existence,

I have been consistent in my resistance,

Of not wearing dupattas,

Now tell me what is Gulmohar Malare,

And most importantly where have I heard this annoying song,

I find it strange that I'm singing along,

Get out of my head you funny song,

You're in the wrong,

Find another brain to haunt,

For I just want,

To catch up on my beauty sleep,

Find some other brain to creep,

Zzzzzzzzzz.

Bread Halwa

Is there anything more decadent than bread halwa,

In the world of halwas,

No, no and no,

Come to think of it, even Shahi tukda is fabulous you know,

Bread, sugar, milk, ghee and butter,

What's not to love, you instantly feel less bitter,

The world is a happier place again,

Suddenly your inner strength regains,

Some sugar and carbs,

Is all it takes to make your heart soar like the birds,

If you've seen babies on sugar high,

You haven't seen me fly,

With a little bit of sugar in my system,

My entire being glistens,

Sugar, my darling sugar,

I wish you weren't such a nasty bugger,

All my meals would have started and ended with you,

Now I find myself sneaking a chocolate or two,

Whenever the brain is fried,

And I instantly dream of ghee fried,

Crushed, crumbled and crispy,

Bread based desserts, that I'm sure I'll gobble way beyond fifty.

A Meaty Feast

Food makes me delirious,

The mood instantly becomes less serious,

The chatter becomes more garbled,

Just like all the mish-mash of food that was gobbled,

Prawn 65, kola urundai, mutton stew,

Bread halwa, chicken curry and copious amounts of rice that will make you want to stay,

Each meat had a distinct flavour,

A crispy crunch, a gooey slurp, a soothing sip, each bite a decadent favour,

To the eager mind,

More than the body, that's screaming, "you're mad!",

"Stop stuffing me up",

Unless you want to go straight up,

But live, I must,

For there's still so much more delicate meat in the world that cannot be missed,

Eat, I will,

And then sleep well,

For that's the natural order of things,

Eat, sleep, repeat, food is one of my favourite things,

The easiest way into my heart,

Is through food, pure art,

On a plate, 

You can be early or late,

But feed me,

And I just may,

Become your friend for life.

The Eternal Flux

A woman's weight is always in flux,

Green tea is consumed in copious cups,

But the mum-tum,

Refuses to budge, suddenly the double chin begins to hum,

Just when you thought you'd gotten rid of all that flab,

Thanks to a fever that happened five minutes ago, the gap,

Between your jean button and the button hole,

Begins to increase, weren't you a pole,

Just five minutes ago, along with that wretched fever,

It made you a believer,

Of looking 20 in your forties,

Then you realise, your body fat wants to be naughty,

It wants to take you for a ride,

You'll have to eat your main course as a side,

And drink water instead of food, whenever you're hungry,

I miss the good old days of wearing dungarees,

And closely resembling a round boy,

Such a killjoy,

Being a woman, you're expected to multitask,

And constantly keep track,

Of the weighing scale,

Scrutize every detail,

Look impossibly skinny,

Be pleasant like Minnie,

The mouse of course,

And show no remorse.

Cheesecakes

Blueberry, strawberry, caramel or plain,

One bite into this delicious cloud and you'll discover thunderclouds and a burst of rain,

Flooding your palate,

You're left with nothing but awe for the talent,

Who baked that subtle indulgence,

To cheesecakes I pledge my allegiance,

Today and everyday,

Until the day,

I crave some gaajar halwa,

I should probably stop the excess sugar intake, somebody call a,

Pharmacy and get me a weighing scale,

The mum-tum is slowly resembling that of a whale,

Up and down it goes,

Hopefully everything I wear just flows,

With the food baby, 

I give birth to after every meal, quite proudly and bravely,

Back to cheesecakes now,

Eat them now or later, but eat them anyhow,

And tell me you absolutely love it,

At a later date, we can find ways to get fit,

But for now, eat that cheesecake,

It's the best cake,

In the whole entire world.

A Loveless Generation

We live in a generation of ghosters,

And boasters,

Wealth and material possessions

Are given importance over real connections,

Pretend to be Julia Roberts today, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her,

And the chap will run a mile and turn back never,

Songs are trending on heartbreaks and breakups,

Relationships are full of complications,

Gone are the days, when piping hot gaajar halwa and decadent hot chocolate did the trick,

We live in a generation that wants something quick,

Blink and you miss,

It fizzles out faster than a snake's hiss,

I'll probably die alone,

Or find a nice cozy nook, where I'll finally belong,

It's all up in the air,

In the meantime, I'll make peace with my well-chopped hair. 

Grief

Grief is like a boulder lodged inside your chest,

It doesn't let you rest,

Sleep is a forgotten friend,

The nights just don't seem to end,

You find yourself walking around in the dark corners of the house,

Hoping to speak to your dead spouse,

Or whoever close to you just departed,

Death is a finality, something that truly rips you apart,

You find yourself walking like the living dead,

And living inside your head,

Unable to truly snap out of that trauma,

Everything you speak sounds like drama,

But one day, you get out of bed,

And you realise, every last teardrop has been shed,

The pain never dries up,

But you rise up,

And decide to go back into the world of the living,

You soon begin forgiving,

Your dead spouse and God,

And decide to give life a nod,

You're different, a little more fearless,

Far from cheerless,

You've fixed the broken pieces,

And decided to do exactly what the heart pleases.

Mutton Biriyani

The decadent Mutton biriyani from Cresent,

Has a burst of flavours that are pleasant,

Sure, you feel gassy and bloated, the next day,

But there's no way,

It will break your heart,

Other than a couple of smelly farts,

Biriyani doesn't leave you on read or ghost you,

Instead, it drives away all your blues,

Therefore Biriyani > People,

Choose Biriyani today and everyday, avoid being one among the sheeple,

As for the broken heart,

There is none, forget it exists and continue creating art,

Erase, delete, forget, let go,

For change is the only way you grow. 

37

37 today,

A year older than yesterday,

Woke up with a twisted and strained back,

I could almost feel my bones crack,

There's no escaping old age,

So might as well turn that page,

Of pretending to be young and fun,

Perhaps I'm not quite done,

But the aches and pains,

And the inflamed veins,

Remind me to slow down,

Gone are the days of being the class clown,

Say that to my mouth though,

And you will know,

It's hard for me to shut up,

So 37 only for the body, the mind is still a pup,

Curious, loud and annoying,

Happily destroying,

Peace in a room,

I specialise is shooing away gloom and doom,

Perhaps I should stop bragging,

And choose to start dragging,

My broken back to the cosy confines of my bed,

Where I shall finally rest my 37 year old head. 

Vada

The humble golden delight,

That instantly makes the world feel right,

Deep fried or dunked in curd,

Don't pluck on it like a bird,

Gorge, gorge and gorge,

Like Peppa's little brother George,

Snort it, sniff it, polish it,

But make sure you finish it,

In the dozens,

Don't think about the repercussions,

Enjoy it while it lasts,

The crispy, crunchy rapid blasts,

Exploding in your brain and mouth,

It's best made in the South,

With sambaar and chutney or curd and boondi,

Spice up your afternoon tea,

Or every single meal,

Munch on it with zeal,

I'm all out of words,

Go grab that Vada now, before the night sky gets more blurred

Happy and Sad

Some days are happy, some sad,

But there are zero days that are bad,

Sadness is like a dark cloud burst in your brain,

But why cry in vain,

When you can have a Shree Mithai, paneer-aloo sandwich,

And allow all that anguish,

To just leave your body,

Like it was nobody,

No point being sad,

Just be glad,

That food exists,

Eat, eat and eat if the sadness persists,

Tomorrow is another day,

Bad things ultimately go away,

Patience and time,

Much like subtle, yet aromatic thyme,

Heals all bumps and bruises,

So simply refuse,

To feel sad,

There is much food to be had. 

Mischief Maker

 

Once upon a time,

There lived a little girl who loved to rhyme,

She scribbled notes for her granny,

And destroyed pearl necklaces that belonged to her nanny,

She ate too much,

And spoke too much,

She wasn't too naughty,

Perhaps a wee bit haughty,

For the longest time, she had no sense of being a little lady,

She wore boxer shorts and fell off her bicycle like crazy,

A bump and a bruise,

A lady bug and some mud, all came to her use,

Alas, one day, puberty caught up,

And momma told her to sit up,

No more torn boxers and behaving like a boy,

No more plastic guns for toys,

Behave, behave, behave,

Ultimately, she had to cave,

But under all the sparkly eyeliners,

There still lives that crazy little girl, who loves burgers and milkshake diners,

She continues to eat too much,

And talk too much,

The world can align,

For she ain't falling in line!

Life And Death

 I've seen both at close quarters,

And I'm happy to report,

Neither has made me bitter,

Or made me a quitter,

The empath in me became stronger,

And colours suddenly appeared brighter,

Picture Daredevil, with the heightened senses,

I no longer have the patience for pretenses,

In widowhood was born,

A version of me that didn't want to mourn,

My mind has erased all the trauma,

I have undergone,

A full cleanse,

Almost telling me, that my current existence,

Is how life has always been,

And I can't seem to remember any other spin,

I'm told I'm a fighter,

And that I bounced out of this brighter,

Someone called me a light,

That dispelled the night,

Someone even called me a museum piece and claimed I made her laugh,

I'll own this last one, wholeheartedly on my behalf.

Morning Cuddles

Morning Cuddles with my "son"shine has become an unspoken golden ritual in our household ever since my boy was zero years old.

I'm an obsessed mother by the way. Can't get enough of my son. And I'm already planning his wedding - either on a beach or on a mountain. Did I mention he's 4.5 years old?

Every decision I take involves my child. Be it moving away from Bombay when his young father passed away, stepping out to work full-time and re-building our life from scratch. The last bit couldn't have been done without the support of my parents. 

I'd like to believe I'm a good mother, because I was raised by one herself. Infact she was more self sacrificing and more dutiful. I'm merely going with the flow of juggling work, raising my child and trying to have a semblance of a social life. 

It's not hard. It's what every 36 year old must strive to do, without hitting an early mid-life crisis. 

Coming back to our morning cuddles, I need it more than him. I breathe him in and thank God everyday, for blessing me with such a beautiful child. He loves me unconditionally (for the time being). I'll miss this devotion in just another 4-5 years. They grow up too soon. 

My mother gives me dire warnings everyday to seperate work from home. "Don't take out work frustrations at home. Keep your office inside your office. At home you're a mother and a daughter. Please behave like one" She's right as always.

It's hard, striking a work-life balance. It's a myth really. There's only work and life is lived on the weekends. This is the reality, without white washing it. Take it or leave it!

Our children keep us sane - most of the time. For the remaining time, let's rein in our tempers and try not to unleash our entire personalities into the world. It's too much for the person sitting opposite you, unless it's your best friend or a close colleague, who can give you a beating and keep you in check.

To all the women in my life - my mother, my bosses and all my lady colleagues - thank you and you're awesome! 

A Fluey Weekend

 

A Dolo induced weekend,

Is how my time is being spent,

Eat, sleep and repeat,

I can barely stand on my two feet,

A complete loss of control over the body,

I feel rather shoddy,

I wake up in a sweat,

And momentarily forget,

Whether I'm supposed to wake up,

Or grab another hot cup,

Of fluids and tablets,

Or go back into my bunny hole filled with imaginary rabbits,

I hardly feel like Alice,

My home feels far from a palace,

With the absence of my little pest,

He is the best,

But his presence would hardly give me any rest,

So I'm stuck inside a lonely fluey weekend,

I pray it soon comes to an end,

And I reach a triumphant bend,

One where my silly flu comes to an end.