THE FIRST ONE

 16.30, the phone rings, ecstatic voice of my dad ' it's a girl'

Aug 8th, that evening, a little angel entered our lives

my feet rush to the hospital to glimpse this awaited addition.

She was ours, little Niharika.

The sun, moon, stars, all a blur for our family 

her wails, her burps, sneezes. smiles 

was what world seemed for our family in the next couple years.

Her smile cooling scorching summery Indian afternoons 

her warm hug soothing clattering cold mornings 

every pair of hands eager to hold her.

A stray dog caught her attention

her curiosity caught my dad's attention

and we got Snoopy, a cute fluffy dog.

a four-legged cutie who never left Niharika alone.

Half century of mine and my sis over

yet feels like yesterday her first smattered words

Anna kolakochy and Babuchi.

Her accidental choke on an ice cube 

blue, her lip colour stopped all our hearts for a sec. 

my mum's timely effort saved her, little did my mum knew 

hidden traits this little one would make her practice.

Fifteen years ago, this girl flew from her nest

today, building her own with warmth and love of Jamie.

A boy, whom my Mum adores a lot, maybe if not less

equal to Niharika. 

Jamie, welcome to our family. just as she is our first one

you are like our first son.  

Two matured adults, building their life brick by brick

We may be far away tucked in sands of Qatar

but just remember, there are still many pairs of hands 

eager to help you, hug you both and take care 

if you ever need us. 

Loads of love to the beautiful new couple.............

FOR YOUR EYES

 Thirty-two years over, yet words fumble 

a million images of you twined

in pores of my skin and heart

each visual races others pine

twenty-six letters of the alphabet

inept to qualify to conjure you.

Yet I attempt

a thin, quiet person, an engineer and employed 

elders chose for merger of my soul 

the only four descriptives applicable then. 

All of twenty-seven then, now inching to sixty

where did the years in between escape?

Caught in your warmth, your silly jokes

your rock-solid support, your snorting sounds

your flexible attitude, your snoring lullabies

your relaxed nature, your thrown socks on carpet

your pampered nods and your loud music

Years watch as  

grey hair replaces thick black curls

lines on neck appear for me to gaze

and listen your excited boyhood stories 

and happy childhood lanes.

Each lane traversed by me and Deeksha

multitude times.

A person whom we take for granted, 

a person for whom family matters most

a person who loves his job

a person who genuinely cares

a person who loves his routine

a person who taught us so much.

a person who shies from his own birthdays.

But today, 

a birthday worthy of mention

sixtieth, an year to remember

the last fifty-nine, passed well

lost a few close ones in the journey

 some added, each relation special. 

A mixed journey of hiccups and sneezes

aches and balms at some crossings

hugs and cuddles at others.

Forty more to go, 

oh no - your automated response

yet each new day, month or year

a journey, where if you turn

I would be there always for you.

Happy birthday, Kumar.

HAND IN HAND

 An adorable pair, a cocktail of two warm hearts,

each besotted with love and respect for the other. 

Their open hearts seat everyone they know

friends galore be it in Dukhan, Doha or Mumbai.

His free spirited will, organising enthusiasm

and impulsive streaks are but a few of his charms. 

Sandy explorations to midnight drives, 

hot teas in watery seas to fourteen shots in tow

he, a perfect example to relish life's each moment.

Flowers and leaves, seas and birds, sun and the moon, 

her true besties, all aches and pains dissolved.

Her generous smile, her innocent nature

a trait winning hearts all around.

Her fish curry, her plum cake, each bring a cheer on his face

Dishes alien on her menu before now her expertise

Taste of Shrikhand specially, a sweet reminder of the month of March.

His searching eyes be it in a crowd or a group

constantly caring for her every subtle need. 

His unending helping gestures making 

her journey a smooth sail.

Arul Mama, Vaishali Mami, a duo adored by 

their nieces and nephews everywhere.

We all can never have enough of you, 

you both only grow better and better

just as wine in an oak barrel.

Twenty-five years flew by, twelve before my eyes

many more twenty-fives to follow, this enchanting bond 

of a couple whose partnership melted religions, languages

and our hearts away. 

AN ODD RECOLLECTION

 

School summer break, little Indian town

mid noon stares of burning sun on empty streets 

the small iron grilled window up the wall

one nine year and another ten

perched on the long couch below

fried cashews and raisins afloat the milky rice pudding 

my mum's little summer treat.

 

couch jumping a naughty pastime 

mum's reprimand on siblings deaf ears

sudden fear in my eyes replace the frolic

a tall strange rustic face at the windowsill

my sister runs for mum

he threatens to kill my dad.

stone faced; body transfixed

my twin ears hear door latched from outside

frantic steps of my mum from inside 

he disappears.

Desperate attempt to open the door, 

shout for neighbours

their doors latched like ours, 

phones alien in our town houses then

huddled in houses, mum stares out of window

clock ticks, some passersby on street at last

our door unlatched. 

subsequent unlatch of neighbour's doors 

men returning home from work

setting sun has a tale to settle

the afternoon scares shared 

a tight hug from dad, we feel safe.

A thief my dad caught in a house break in.

a different street, a different year

yet his memory strong of my father's face

just like mine today

his revenge found our address

my dessert of raisin and cashew lost taste.

MY IV DRIP

 Mine is a mix of various concoctions

My mind left for a minute spins dramas of fear, guilt and dread

sagas enough to fill theatres all over the world

stories so dramatic and intriguing, many a time spiced unconsciously by me 

it's as if my mind knows me better than I know it 

 a part of me, yet seems so out of control 

it just waits to gallop, tired lands me irritated and angry

relations strained with words that mind spits out.

Mercy of online search engines

picked up one tool for repair

morning pages being my first shield,

exercise, meditation, scripture reading suffixed 

Each seeped into my life

a daily routine I adhere on most days

keeps me afloat

Times I feel abandoned, caught in claws of my mind

I get sucked, old practices ready to engulf me

my new practices throw the anchor

the rope I miss at times

Few years ago, scorecard was one on ten

more than half a dozen years of try

scorecard now around five on ten.

Sudoku, poetry, singing and reading my stepneys

I look forward for my own company

Mood swings now an occasional flu

 medicines do work, 

I just try to remember to 

stock myself each day.

WHO AM I ?

 Who am I, I often ponder

The mind throws a blank stare

startled at this new question

it strings words together

hmmm, 

maybe an amalgamation 

of emotions, thoughts, memories and incidents

or maybe veins, arteries, limbs wet in red fluid.

submerging I picturise the unseen in the brain

some emotions corroded, some eroded in debris

few cheerful as the sunrise

some unwanted gnaw in periods

several in abyss, intellect psyched to look.

Is this my definition,

or labels of daughter, cousin, friend 

wife, mother, acquaintance or stranger identify me.

every label with its own expiry date

some wear out premature

handful may sink in the horizon of amnesia 

each label fattened again and again 

with expectations and desires.

Or am I a nature's spec

just like the trees, the ocean, the hills, sand and mud

each so diverse from the other, yet incomplete without the other

 the mind blank again 

blindfolded vowels and consonants  

grope in self-created darkness.

My visualisation an unsuccessful attempt

I sigh, my midlife query remains unanswered

The doorbell rings, my mind and body 

in a default zone garb the apt label

spec adjusts to the role

limbs enact the part.

FRAME

 

Uneven mighty rock towers the landscape

spraying the clouds its dark shadows

its strewn discarded parts poke out of the froth below

Exhausted sun settling in horizon below

it's trickly rays still sticking out in streaks

completing end of day tasks 

golden reflection on the patch of water below

moon and stars stretch on their beds 

gearing to start night watch

The black layered rock awaits the nocturnal friend's company

lullaby of the dark strewn clouds. 

The solo crocheted pattern, the bed sheet of cloud

a picturesque drape for the mountain ridges

the small black rocks, the foamy vapour

all dreamily lulled into a peaceful slumber.