Every day is yours Mom
Just letting you know
My heartbeat is your gift I carry
He is the last thing I see before I leave home and the first when I return. In the interim, I am given to believe that he puts his head on my slippers and waits and woe to that person who tries to move the slippers for sweeping the floor or mopping it!
Yesterday, when I got home, no yelps of joy greeted me, absolutely no response to my whistles… Where was he? I wondered. The help informed me that he was out on his evening stroll because it had just stopped raining.
Gosh! How I missed his warm, tail-wagging welcome, his routine of carrying my sandals half way and dropping them unceremoniously, his guiding me to his treat jar because he had waited so patiently and not broken anything the entire day! And also because humans tend to forget directions.. 🙄
Little things are such big things in the daily living of life… This I learn from Bob, my black pug. No routine is boring if you invest yourself in it fully.
When we go for our morning walk, I give his leash to the bhaiya asking him to take Bob back inside, but when I return, this is how I find him… Waiting patiently, in no hurry, eyes peeled on the road down which I had gone. And when he sees me return, his eyes sparkle, he gets new life, as do I…… 😊
Someone sheltered us
Curved their body over
So we could be safe
If we are
Where we are
It could only be
Loved us enough
To take the
Brickbats for us
When they rained
Whether we see them
Whether we acknowledge it
We couldn’t be
Where we are
Without the love
Of those few…..
Presence in the Absence
The absence is complete..yet the presence is palpable. It is there in the form of strewn shoes…an unmade bed…perfume lingering in the air, like a guest reluctant to leave..even the comb wants to hang on to a glossy long hair as a keepsake.
Her presence is everywhere..a silent witness, it winks from countertops and jumbled clothes, it gives away every personality trait of my teen aged daughter..sometimes reluctantly and sometimes with glee..sure in the knowledge that it will get a reaction out of me. I am reluctant to start cleaning and clearing..
enjoying her presence in her absence. I see examples of this girl-woman in little things that looming adulthood has not taken away yet..three magenta colored monkeys keeping Gandhijis lessons alive…a fluffy stuffed toy, a keepsake from babyhood still finds pride of place. Alongside it are photographs capturing the metamorphoses of a baby into a young woman.
She is faraway now… gone for higher studies..that sounds ironical too because she always makes me feel that she knows everything..it’s in the folding of clothes and clearing of clutter that I feel oddly close to my child. This child, who loves paneer, poetry and her point of view all with equal fervour.
Though she is not in my field of vision she’s still everywhere..sitting squarely in my heart and in her home..With every move of my hands that remove the creases from her clothes I say a prayer..be happy..be safe…be yourself…
“Walking, I am listening to a deeper way.
Suddenly, all my ancestors are behind me.
Be still, they say.
Watch and Listen.
You are the result of the love
Linda Hogan, Native American Writer
It was at a retreat that we were asked to look at our hands. To look at them and observe the blessings they hold…..Those of our ancestors, our parents and their parents and so on. Our Zen master asked us to gently put our hand over our head and believe it is our father or mother loving and blessing us. It was an amazing feeling!
The thought of having them with us constantly, looking out for us and being with us, was beautiful to comprehend. Their love is inextricably linked to us and is in our life, if we just become aware of it….. Yet we live in such isolation, believing that there is only what is tangible and visible. If they are not with us physically, we believe that they are just not there…
It is impossible for us to be here without the love of those who lived before us. To believe that we are born in isolation, live in isolation and behave in entirely unique ways is a fallacy. We are the product of those who we know and those we have never had the chance to meet. We behave in ways that some of them might have done in. To take the credit for all that we have made of ourself is erroneous.
I carry my mothers eyes and my fathers nose. I get my sense of humour from my dads side and my love for life from my mother. Who am I really? if not an amalgamation of all the known and the unknown.
To remember that they are in all the good and the not so good in me, attaches me to them in a new way. To remember this gives me a sense of the immensity and continuity of life.
I like to remember that I am the result of the love of thousands. It brings a smile to my lips and I feel a deep happiness envelope me…