#36 - Changing Shades of Summer

I remember a time when summer was

Endless days of mindless fun

As we played in the scorching sun

Without a care or pause.

A time when mangoes lay in crates

The still air laden with their scent

And we ate them to our heart’s content

As the seeds lay stacked in our plates

And when the play for the day seemed done

It was time for books and treats

Under makeshift tents of torn bedsheets

That always had enough room for everyone

With each year these memories fade

The crates replaced by boxes small

Instead of tents, now tall glass walls

As through the workload we wade

And though sometimes the day is cooled

With much awaited evening rains

I do miss all the play, the games

Those days when mangoes and magic ruled!

#26: In Today's Times

I know this world seems a confusing place 

I see the questions looming large on your little face 

As you start piecing together 

The breaking news

Remnants of grownup talks

Theories of your friends 

To plot a map that will

Be your guide. 

But what map can take you past doors locked twice 

Or help you see through all the hollow advice 

We hand out 

Hoping that the devices 

The safety apps  

and the tracking

Will keep you safe 

Knowing that this armour is as unreal

As the virtual world that birthed it. 

And will come crumbling 

The moment you walk into walls

Created by the taradiddle of the mighty  

Beti bachao now seeming more a warning than a slogan of change.  

Dear child, I don't know what lies to sprout 

As I stammer to answer your questions about 

Why anyone would kill an eight year old 

And I want you to believe that  

our streets aren't as unsafe

As the meadows she called home. 

But I know these lies won't  serve both you and I. 

So despite every instinct to hold you tight

I know you'll need to learn how to fight 

These lies, these bastions of blind power 

And for that here's all I can tell

Never be afraid to take a stand 

And speak up though you may be a lonely voice 

Trust the map inside your being

Deciding your own set of truths to live by 

Never resting on what seem like wins

For the best of the gardens always need weeding

And know that past these dark, confusing times 

There would be a glorious sunrise waiting, my little girl 

To remind you about the wonders of our precious world. 

#16: Home

‘Is this what home looks like?’

Her eyes seem to ask,

As she takes in this new, strange space

That she has so trustingly walked into.

Willing to accept two perfect strangers

Hoping to be her imperfect parents.

For two years she's been told a day would come

When someone would come to take her home

And we've been told she's is ready.

Ready? 

I don’t even know what that means

For though I know I've wanted this all along

Will I be all that I need to be

As the tides change for both her and me? 

For many a times, I have stood on these shores

With open arms welcoming the rolling waves

Only to watch them casually wash away the sand castles

Hopes crashing again and again

Until the day we met her.

Has she ever been to a beach before I wonder

Does her mind know of the polarities the waves hold

Gentle and yet tough

Does her heart grasp how I feel now

- at once confident and unsure.

And I watch her, too afraid to breathe

Her deep black eyes shy yet curious

Her movements tentative yet in control

And though she is so small,

slowly and surely claiming her space in our lives.

And I remember to breathe again

as I gently hold her in my arms,

'This is our house, my little one - made of sand and stone,

And with you here today, it finally feels like home.'

#9 The Alchemist

(prompt - a poem that begins with the title of your favourite book)

The Alchemist

is who I seek

Someone who holds in his hand

The secret that could transform this land,

These chaotic times we live in

The mistrust, the misgivings, 

And create a path 

so that we find our way back

to our shared humanity.

For even as I struggle

To make sense
of this insanity around 

I seek 

the science, 

the magic,
that could transform 

Despair to hope 

Fear to joy 

Tedium to adventure 

Isolation to connection 

Hatred to understanding 

Tears to laughter.

For the walls are getting higher

The cries more desperate

Only to drown in the hollow promises

from self-proclaimed messiahs standing tall. 

Only an alchemist 

could transform it all.

And even as I search

In the deepening darkness around

The sunrise reminds me

That what I seek

The science
The magic

In alchemy I won't find.

Instead I need to look

Into the heart of a child.

End of a rough day

My little one was feeling low, she said she didn't know why

First she was sulking, and then began to cry.

I wrapped her in a soft quilt, hugged her for a while

Read her funny Silverstein poems, till she began to smile.

I tucked her in her bed, snuggled and held her close

Then hummed her a lullaby, kissed her little nose

Now my little one is sleeping, so peaceful and carefree

I wish someone could along and do these things for me!

(wrote this after putting Nia to bed one night when she was 9 I think. Its amazong how real sequence of events can lend itself to poetry)