Every day we meet
on this table , to dine.
In bed we sleep
together, on each side.
In sleep you touch
to caress my face,
But not when I am
wide awake.
You ask why?
I do not reciprocate
But when asleep,
How can I?
You write mail
to communicate,
but remain quiet
when face to face.
Your pain?
mine?
ours?
all pain is same?
Our hair is grey
Let us say grace.
With your hand in mine
it is thanks giving time.
Though there were thorns,
the nest was warm.
See how they have grown
tall and strong.
They stand together
like pillar and beam ,
for us to lean ,
and sleep beneath.
At the dawn of love
we remained unawake
and later the glare
was hard to bear.
Now , in evening
the air is balmy
come let us rest
it is home coming.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Joy of Living
All street children look busy, energetic and happy. You have to just observe their behaviour on traffic signals where most of them are- selling , begging or just hanging around. Even the most forlorn looking one will break into a smile if you make eye contact and look long enough.
But this child was different -did not have the " happy go lucky" demeanour of a street child. With a bag on his shoulders he had a cultivated appearance ; but he was crying - silently to himself. I was standing outside a multiplex near the main road waiting for my car to pick me when I saw him standing near by.
Unable to ignore , I moved closer and asked him what was wrong.
It was a book that he needed to buy and he had no money. The school teacher had warned him of dire consequences if he did not bring the book to school the next day .Looking at the disbelief on my face he opened his bag and showed me his class exercise books. I found he was a student of class six and exceptionally good in his school work.
He told me initially he was in a school meant for poor children but because of his good grades he was nominated to a bigger English medium school where the fees were not charged but he had to pay for the books. I found the boy could speak English well.
Encouraged by my interest and the appreciation that must have shown on my face he asked if I could give him eighty rupees for the book. He quickly added that his father was a watchman in a building across the road and he could take me there to prove he was not lying.
I gave the child eighty rupees , more because of the impression he had made on me and less due to pity. He thanked me profusely and promised to study well and had happiness writ on his face.
I was about to go when he tugged my hand and with a gleam in the eyes asked if I could give him twenty rupees more. Pointing towards Mc Donald's he told me he had never gone inside and really wanted to eat something from there . He had also found out that the cheapest item in Mc Donald's was for twenty rupees.
As if hypnotised I gave him another twenty rupees and and saw him run inside McDonald's . He was out in five minutes with a burger in his hand , and seeing me still standing came running and pressed a five rupee coin in my palm. He said " It cost only fifteen rupees" and ran away before I could say anything.
I stood there - looking after him---for how long I don't know ---- wondering where my car was ----it was hot , the pollution was unbearable ----
But this child was different -did not have the " happy go lucky" demeanour of a street child. With a bag on his shoulders he had a cultivated appearance ; but he was crying - silently to himself. I was standing outside a multiplex near the main road waiting for my car to pick me when I saw him standing near by.
Unable to ignore , I moved closer and asked him what was wrong.
It was a book that he needed to buy and he had no money. The school teacher had warned him of dire consequences if he did not bring the book to school the next day .Looking at the disbelief on my face he opened his bag and showed me his class exercise books. I found he was a student of class six and exceptionally good in his school work.
He told me initially he was in a school meant for poor children but because of his good grades he was nominated to a bigger English medium school where the fees were not charged but he had to pay for the books. I found the boy could speak English well.
Encouraged by my interest and the appreciation that must have shown on my face he asked if I could give him eighty rupees for the book. He quickly added that his father was a watchman in a building across the road and he could take me there to prove he was not lying.
I gave the child eighty rupees , more because of the impression he had made on me and less due to pity. He thanked me profusely and promised to study well and had happiness writ on his face.
I was about to go when he tugged my hand and with a gleam in the eyes asked if I could give him twenty rupees more. Pointing towards Mc Donald's he told me he had never gone inside and really wanted to eat something from there . He had also found out that the cheapest item in Mc Donald's was for twenty rupees.
As if hypnotised I gave him another twenty rupees and and saw him run inside McDonald's . He was out in five minutes with a burger in his hand , and seeing me still standing came running and pressed a five rupee coin in my palm. He said " It cost only fifteen rupees" and ran away before I could say anything.
I stood there - looking after him---for how long I don't know ---- wondering where my car was ----it was hot , the pollution was unbearable ----
The Heart Knows !
When death came home to her first born son she knew it before anyone else did. All day she panicked - shouting and urging them to close all the doors and windows . "Dont let them in, the bad ones are trying to come in ". she kept repeating .But they hushed her. Afterall the son was so ill . The same evening he died---only then they realised that she knew that death was coming today.
- much before her son went she had been diagnosed for dementia and then the doctors had proclaimed Alziemer disease. Though she could not hug and console her son because the disease had made her bed ridden and in articulate --- but she knew when the hands of death were entering the house ---to take away her son. She only wanted them to close all the doors .Stop death from taking her son away.But they never closed the windows and doors.
Now five years later , the doctors have pronounced her condition to have worsened. --a vegetable like existence they all say it is . Two attendents do all the chores for her.
Now her husband has gone , but she bid him goodbye . While he was battling for his life in the hopital she was at home in delirium ( so the attendents agreed) .She was goading them to go and open the back door " Babu ji wants to come in". They did nothing but reassure her, told her babuji was in the hospital and could not come.They did not know he had died --but she knew .He had come to say good bye.
The heart knows ! even if the brain cannot tell.
- much before her son went she had been diagnosed for dementia and then the doctors had proclaimed Alziemer disease. Though she could not hug and console her son because the disease had made her bed ridden and in articulate --- but she knew when the hands of death were entering the house ---to take away her son. She only wanted them to close all the doors .Stop death from taking her son away.But they never closed the windows and doors.
Now five years later , the doctors have pronounced her condition to have worsened. --a vegetable like existence they all say it is . Two attendents do all the chores for her.
Now her husband has gone , but she bid him goodbye . While he was battling for his life in the hopital she was at home in delirium ( so the attendents agreed) .She was goading them to go and open the back door " Babu ji wants to come in". They did nothing but reassure her, told her babuji was in the hospital and could not come.They did not know he had died --but she knew .He had come to say good bye.
The heart knows ! even if the brain cannot tell.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
And the Flowers Bloomed!
A garden is meant to be green ,colourful and fragrant. Mine has always been green and would be sometimes colourful , specially in spring when flowers bloom- both invited and uninvited. But for seven long years there was no fragrance-despite the bela and mogra shrubs that I had planted - brought from even far off places like my village which is aflush with flowers ,of all types all year round.
But my bela and mogra unlike their rural counterparts ,definately did not have a profiligate temperament and would be content yielding a few token blossoms - two or three at the most every season , for my supposed satisfaction,which was really a dissapointment.
Then Jasmine died.----last year in March ----- after a protracted illness of diabetes.
We had nursed her lovingly, even when we knew she was on her last lap- after all she had lived her full years . After the vet told us he could do nothing more we had brought her home.
On the last day, and all of her last night , she wanted to remain outdoors .We kept the vigil with her.
A night of grief, the mind and heart choked with emotions not experienced before- we knew she would not last the night - we did not want her to go --we did not know what life would be after she went.
Throughout the night she circumambulated the garden--a hundred times she collapsed on the grass seeking water , which she drank in deep gulps from the chalet our hands proferred . And as if there was nothing more she wanted from this world she would immediately diurate or throw up all she had taken in.
She did not give up , I think because of us. She could have just lay down and rested forever, but she did not ---she kept drinking from our hands - she kept the vigil with us all night .
Next morning she died -we could not part with her --still , so buried her close by , in the shaded green area just outside the boundarywall of our house- the boundary along which my bela and mogras grow.
And then the miracle happened .
A month later -when the season came , the flowers bloomed- hundreds of them--- on my bela and mogra shrubs - so many you could see only white - and the fragrance -- was heavenly .
At last my garden was scented . All season we embraced , nay, inhaled Jasmine's essence .
It is another year since Jasmine died and the flowers have bloomed, in abundance-- on my bela and mogras shrubs. The garden is fragrant.
The miracle continues!
But my bela and mogra unlike their rural counterparts ,definately did not have a profiligate temperament and would be content yielding a few token blossoms - two or three at the most every season , for my supposed satisfaction,which was really a dissapointment.
Then Jasmine died.----last year in March ----- after a protracted illness of diabetes.
We had nursed her lovingly, even when we knew she was on her last lap- after all she had lived her full years . After the vet told us he could do nothing more we had brought her home.
On the last day, and all of her last night , she wanted to remain outdoors .We kept the vigil with her.
A night of grief, the mind and heart choked with emotions not experienced before- we knew she would not last the night - we did not want her to go --we did not know what life would be after she went.
Throughout the night she circumambulated the garden--a hundred times she collapsed on the grass seeking water , which she drank in deep gulps from the chalet our hands proferred . And as if there was nothing more she wanted from this world she would immediately diurate or throw up all she had taken in.
She did not give up , I think because of us. She could have just lay down and rested forever, but she did not ---she kept drinking from our hands - she kept the vigil with us all night .
Next morning she died -we could not part with her --still , so buried her close by , in the shaded green area just outside the boundarywall of our house- the boundary along which my bela and mogras grow.
And then the miracle happened .
A month later -when the season came , the flowers bloomed- hundreds of them--- on my bela and mogra shrubs - so many you could see only white - and the fragrance -- was heavenly .
At last my garden was scented . All season we embraced , nay, inhaled Jasmine's essence .
It is another year since Jasmine died and the flowers have bloomed, in abundance-- on my bela and mogras shrubs. The garden is fragrant.
The miracle continues!
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