So Pure...

I want to call you an angel my little one,

But they say angels have feathers, and you have none...

I want to call you my shining star,

But you are near me, and stars are far...

I want to call you the apple of my eye,

But apples can be sour, and that is why...

I cannot call you this and cannot call you that,

Oh! you are so pure, my words fall flat. 

(Babies are so pure. I realize now that parenthood is such a big responsibility. Parents paint a character into the blank canvas of a baby's mind. I hope we do a good job of it.) 

A Mother to me, A Mother to be

I blinked and dreamed inside her womb

Kicked and played my very first game

While she waited for me to arrive

Bearing the pain, calling my name.

Like the wings of a feathered bird

She held me close to her warmth

You are my little angel, she said

Her eyes shining, her face calmth.

And I know she'll always be there for me

In all the prize and dooms of life

In blacks and whites, greens and blues

In smiles and tears, in less and rife.

------------------------------------------------------

Oh mother! my precious

What you give me everyday,

Words can't express it enough

Those are things I cannot repay.

 

 

p.s. I started this when I was expecting. A day after Mother's day, finally had myself finish this:)

It's snowing in Seattle

Nov 26, 2007: 2 pm

My wish came true. I was cuddled inside the comforter, senses begging to be let loose by the atrocities of this ever wandering mind.....my desire was to sleep, take a quick nap....when it all began. My roommate came rushing inside the room and shouted - "It's snowing outside!! come and see". I lifted the blinds of the window and there it was...small white cotton being shredded by mother nature, it was actually snowing! You might ask what the big deal? But it was an important thing for me. Perhaps the happiness was more brightened because of it being a surprise. I had been wining for quite some days to Sandeep that I wanted to witness actual snow falling..."I've never seen snow...I've never been in a snowfall". So it was really nice to get this so unexpected.

We ran to the roof, those soft cotton balls started entwining in our hair-locks. It was beautiful. It was a very very light snow, but still I couldn't withhold all smiles and gasping. It was actually happening. A day that I want to remember...more like I want to register...for its one more memory I'll cherish for the rest of my life...one more dream, one more wish coming true. And it reminds me that wishes do come true...sometimes it's these sweet surprises, at other times we have to struggle...make them happen:)
 

Famous Five

Once upon a time...

I wasn't a famous girl in fifth grade. We had a half hour dedicated every week to ‘library period’. It was one of those days when my friend handed me a Enid Blyton’s Famous Five.

I was hooked on to it immediately. I can’t recall now what I read before I read the Five. It opened a dream land for me where I could walk in anytime I desired. I could experience someone else’s life, so widely different from mine. I was a very silent girl in school. My teachers first noticed me after grading the unit test copies and seeing good scores.

So I read the first book and then I read them all. All the books I could get my hands on in the library. We got one book allotted each week. I finished mine quickly and started trading with my classmates. My count was 2-3 books a week. I found company in a couple of my crazy friends. I remember we were at a point when we hid the unread editions behind certain sections in cupboards. We use to hide them in sections which we considered boring classic literature, hoping no one would find it there. It seems so foolish now. It was such an innocent childhood act at that time. I finished my homework with more enthusiasm than before, only to get spare time to read the Five. In a way I was having my own adventures.

Our day to day schooling didn't offer much scope for diversion from studies. We woke up, went to school, came back, and then studied. We took breaks but we mostly studied. There would be electricity cut-offs but we would complete homework under a lamp. It is hard to imagine right now how much we studied. Not that there is anything wrong with it! It was so natural at that time. So in such a busy study life, it was really an adventure to steal the reads. Yes! that’s what I literally did. I was a sincere student, but when I had a Famous Five in hand, it took priority over many other things.

I woke up early to study. But when I was ‘Famous Fiving’, I use to hide it under my Science book and read it. I would be in my school bus and read it. I use to take it to bathroom and read it. It is only obvious that my mother ended up knocking the door often wondering what a little girl is doing in bathroom for more than 30-45 minutes. I convinced myself that I would finish ‘this one book I’m reading’ and then not touch another one for the next week. Ah! promises.

Another interesting episode is what happened one fine day. I was exchanging angry notes in a classroom over a dispute with my friend in our spare time. I wrote 'stupid' and passed it to her. What happened next was far from my comprehension. Now this girl blackmailed me over that tiny note for a very long time. She said she would hand it over to the teacher. I must have been very conscious of my reputation and so I listened to her for some time. But then I was tired. And guess what? Some of my good friends and I ended up forming a ‘Famous Five’ gang. We brainstormed a plan. During recess the girls would somehow keep the girl busy. The boys would snoop in at that time and search her school bag. Well, I’m all smiles now as I’m sharing this story. But this is one of the most daring things I attempted in my school time.

The gang couldn't locate the paper. How our gang finally dissolved fails my memory. That girl left the school that summer. And time went by.

Today..

A story of past is best complimented with a seasoning of present. I still read. I don’t have to steal reads any more, in fact I have to force myself to read now. It is still a busy life now, just that work and family take precedence over everything else. It is a simple reality of life that time simply tip toes without any stories often. Not that there is anything wrong with it. It is natural. But if you are one of those who like adventures, I’ll just say this, go - have one!

Stop Requested

Familiarity often breeds likeness. That doesn’t perhaps apply to all things in life like love or marriages(that I've heard get most unlikely with time). But here I’m talking about my daily bus rides. I’m getting used to commuting to work by bus now.

The first day was like preparing for an exam. I have not traveled in buses much and I just have a most 'wonderful' sense of Geography. The combination is adventurous. I checked the schedule online multiple times both for the start and return trips. I was there at the bus stop 10 minutes earlier. The bus came. I greeted the driver and looked up. All the seats were occupied. There were people of so many colors and shapes, and vividness. My brain ran out of thoughts. I had to stand all the way to my destination and I was simply disappointed. The return trip was worse.

There is an underground tunnel in the downtown area from where the bus needs to be taken. I reached the stop.The setting was apt for a thriller movie scene, where the silence and dullness is about to turn into something nasty. I found a few people scattered in the platform. I could relate them to mobsters in movies or psychopaths or some to just ‘people who scared me for no reason’. I was worried about what would be my reaction if one of them came and showed me a gun and asked me for my laptop. I then thought about ‘what things I have not done or want to do in life?’ assuming this was my last day. I resolved to at least start focusing on some them as soon as I reach home safely. I then circled my eyes around and saw a guy in a cop like uniform standing at a corner. That was some relief! When I got into the bus finally, I had to keep all my senses up and running to watch for my stop. Well as must be apparent from reading this account so far, ‘sensing and judging direction is not my forte’. Well even to say it like that is an understatement of the situation. If I don’t have to, I never try to remember where I’m going and how I’ll come back.

Anyway, so that was the first day. As my ride continued for a week or two, I slowly learned to relax. I started returning smiles from strangers, or even recognizing some of the regular travelers. I learned to time myself better, so that I don’t have to be on the stops several minutes earlier. Also in a way, I started appreciating diversity that the human race brings in society. For example, there is an ‘oval-face-round-earring’ girl who I jump into often. She always sits on the front seats which are to be abandoned for elderly people in case needed. She gets in the bus before my stop and does not get down before me. I see there are other seats that she can choose to sit. But I always find her sitting right at front and standing after few stops, giving away her seat to an elderly person who comes by. That stranger is sure strange!

Those who mostly make the bus lively are African-American people. Women with flashy jackets, braided hair, skin tight jeans, high boots, men with loose jeans, loose T’s, pierced ear and earphones. If a black woman next to me picks up a phone to talk, it makes me nervous. I can’t make out if she is upset with the person on phone or that’s her usual way of speaking. I would not be surprised if my slight shift in seat can arouse her anger on me as well. So I just try to stay still as much as possible.

There are Asian people. You cannot miss them in any journey in US. Bus rides are no exception. I have never been able to distinguish Chinese from Thai, or Korean from Japanese. If I have to refer to them, I default to Chinese for purposes of ease. They are always a subject of interest to me. They are watchful as if the world around them is like a book they are studying. I find them cautious for reasons I have not been able to understand.

I got a surprise from a Mexican man one day. Again, I don’t know what kind of Spanish origin he was, but the sharp features of black-gel hair, fair color, and black eyes gave him enough substance to be called Mexican in my dictionary. So, I was standing one day without a seat and I heard a sound from back. He asked me to sit and he moved on. I thought he must be getting down at the next stop. But no, he was standing at some distance all the time till we reached downtown. And there I was, kind of open mouthed, not sure if I should extend my thanks in any way or not.

I've come to realize that I’m evolving with each bus ride. I have learned how to grab the seats. People in the tunnel don’t overwhelm me anymore. I have learned that there will be fellow passengers with good and bad odors; it’s entirely a matter of luck. I know that an unexpected talk with a stranger will sometimes make my day. The bad rush at some other day will take a homely cup of tea to cool me down. Rest assured the best part of my journey is the time when my stop is about to arrive, and I see a ‘STOP REQUESTED’ sign on the bus. It is a signal for the driver to know where to stop. The sign so inadvertently tags the start of a day...or its end, as life should be lived, in moments, in stops.