What if we get to live twice? Would it feel like a bonus prize? Will we live differently with perspective? Will life be sweeter in retrospective? Second time, I will play, stray and smile more, Will not let petty problems disturb my core, Understand life’s a tapestry of encounters to explore, Some to cherish and others to endure. Second chances are given on many day(s), If not in entirety, then in some small or big way(s), Key is to quickly understand and play, Hopefully, the second time we can better sway. Our children also help us relive our lives, In their choices, we can vicariously thrive. Sometimes we wish they would take the ford, Then we have to remember-its for them to choose their road. Chances in life are resplendent and rife, Many say-the biggest lessons come from dear wife, God willing, one learns and remembers without many strife, Trick is to grab second chances and not be stuck in life.
Wardrobes don’t just house clothes, They are a time machine that can bring forth, Smiles, laughs and emotions in drove, Some items are a treasure trove, Recently, while rearranging dresses, tops and shorts, I recalled a shopping trip where we bought, A dress for a prom an year, And shoes to match the gear. These reminiscences are not unique in their plot, Yet, lived differently for each parent and tot. A red coat that we together got, Hangs in my closet with the lot, Celebrated its 10th without a spot, My teen had said-“this looks hot", A deluge of memories of worn and wear, Even amidst some torn and tear, Makes ordinariness of life- special and dear, And in hindsight without a peer. So if you wonder, "does time truly fly?" Isn’t it a relative phenomenon that goes by, Open a drawer, a closet or a chest, A find might open a memory door-the very best.
I remember as a child losing a favorite toy, Nothing said could bring back the joy. After tears, tenderness and time, I accepted the loss, And learnt a vital lesson of acceptance and moving across. Letting go is a complex art, Attachments are like sweet and sour tart, Detachment is not something for which we have a draft, Yet, life and living demands that we embrace this craft. Though generations before us have walked this path, Yet, each individual is on one’s own swath. Slowly we learn not all lost can be restored, Sadness and sorrow have also to be endured. Loosening some chords can cut sharper than a knife, Yet, holding on is against the natural order of life. Since losses in life are rampant and rife, It does not help to put up a strife. The sojourn of acceptance, Is not bereft of inner agitation, Can challenge many a disposition, But eventually leads to affirmation and personal evolution.
Someone new asked who are you? Tell me more about you. This question set me thinking, More like deep data linking. I have varied identities, And all are my realities. There’s not one me, But many in me. Working from home has further complicated this equation, Mishmash of tasks, duties and relations, Sometimes within minutes I have to change roles, And report with precision like someone on parole. From work meetings to household chores, The list miraculously grows evermore, Everyday seems to be a delicate game of juggle, I wonder if you also feel this struggle. Mindset shift from a work problem to one at home, Makes me feel going against human genome. Our minds work best when we focus, Not when we keep shifting our locus. So to who are you? Multiple answers are true. A mother, a daughter, a writer, a sister, So many identities are in one me, mister. Which one would you like to meet? Each is unique-some a bit more sweet.
When someone withdrew from you, And changed their focus from thou, It was half truths that got them away, Lack of openness to waylay. Its not always lies, but unshared information, That breaks the fragile bonds of connection. Reactive rather than proactive communication, Is not the hallmark of strong and lasting relation. We have learnt Love is sharing, And sharing translates to caring, Good-bad, happy-sad, subtle and blaring, All of it- falls-frailty, dreams and daring. When we speak without restriction, With feelings and lack of friction, With a desire to share and care with conviction, Bonds grow stronger with each diction. Lack of true and regular exchange, Can lead to heart change, Living together should not feel like a bondage, Relationships are meant to make you fly and not cage.
Inter generational conversations are an art, Topics and exchanges are a discrete craft. Older folks have a tendency to get preachy, Younger ones loathe anything that too teachy. Good conversationists find a middle ground, To keep chats going around, Is give and take necessary in every round? For all to feel valued, without feeling bound. One learns, good talks start with trust, And are carried forth with shared interest(s). Cemented with understanding multiple pretext(s), And honoring mutual context(s). Interactive dance of experience and youth, Can flow like a well rehearsed tango-clean and smooth, And the dialogues can really calm and soothe If effort is made and honored with courtesy and couth, Topics and talks mould as children and parents grow, Conversations are a boat that all have to together row, Good-bad, pedantic.didactic, comic-tragic with high-low, Beautiful moments and memories emerge from this flow.
A sari box got opened, And a revelation got made- Definition of a sari in a dictionary is wrong, Its not just a garment that’s about six feet long. It’s a harbinger of memories, A drape in its weft, weave and wrap carrying stories. My saris are not just cottons, silks, georgettes and chiffons, Each one carries memoirs-soirées and songs. A grand mother’s advise, An aunt’s surprise, So much in guise, And then-conjectures and surmise, These old saris have opened a floodgate of sorts, Pouring a deluge of memories- an entire lot, Taken me back to the place of my youth, An upbringing of caring, culture and couth. New fashions and fabrics may come and go, Some old ones are like a seasoned pro, Shapes and styles mold as one grow(s), Yet, a few can still make you gleam and glow, Reminding that though life’s like a river in continuous flow. Sometimes it’s better when you stop, savor and slow.
From a life that seemed like a constantly moving mill, A never ending hill. Allowing no time to stand or sit still. Demanding one more chore, one more bill-a constant drill. Lockdown provided time for contemplation, Away from external and nearer to inner connection, Hours were spent in reckoning and reflection, And also in self suggestion and correction. I cherished and appreciated the rush-free time, Rare, precious, and sublime. Early morning hours of mine, Allowed me to connect with self and divine. Beyond worldly concerns and care, I could sit back and inside stare. Think of twists and turns in life’s line, And recall events in the churns of time. Suddenly there were hours to pursue a dormant hobby, That for years had no lobby. I read some old books, stories and lore, Wrote and rewrote like years before, Delved into some old diary pages. Reflected on them like sages. Thought about life’s many wonders, And how to fit in, without blunders. Spent and cherished time with loved ones, Strolls in nature were second to none. Technological advances helped hear and see, Voices and faces of other dear ones and me. Some days were gentle and tender. Others had rain and thunder. Accepting both without protest. Continued to be the biggest and toughest test. My way to beat the blues was to work and rest, Think, read and reflect with zest. But one abiding tenet of my nest, Laughter together is the ultimate savior-the very best.
From the texts that teach, To the men that preach, Faith lies in between. From fervent declarations of love, To blood thirsty hate, Control like a trapeze artist balances in between. From zenith of joy and happiness, To depths of despair and sadness, Equanimity satisfies in between. From playful, carefree childhood, To pensive, responsibilities filled adulthood, Life is to be savored in between. From quiet contemplation, To intense discussions, Wisdom searches a niche in between. From passions that overcome obstacles, To indifference leading to humdrum, Vast majority live in between. From follies and frivolities of youth, To sagacity of the golden years, Moments and memories of life are lived and made in between
Today’s events turn to tomorrow’s stories, Tales recalled of shared experiences and soirees. Build today that you’d want to reminisce as you age, Many remembrances can be relived as you turn a page, Fill your life with a legacy of love and grace, not hate and rage. Construe memories that bring smile and satisfaction at any stage. As you sit back and remember events from the past. A melting pot will emerge of people, travel, work, and talks that you hast. Moments we cherish are not just special occasion. But ordinary turned special by a kind word, a thoughtful action. Best are days filled with shared goals, collaboration and rejoicing, Small and big achievement that are enriching and enticing. In the book of life, some days are happy, others sad, Some good and others bad, No one escapes life unscathed-lass or lad. Your reactions determine an overall card of glad or mad. No one has only a happy yesterday, Love, longing, losing-are all served in life’s tray, Consciously choose positive. Nip in the bud, the negative. Simple lessons of life include to be proactive, Not just reactive. I cherish time spent with special and simple people. Honest, humble, humorous, not sitting on a steeple. Many have helped lighten my load. Gratitude is due to many special mentors on life’s road. Books, paintings, travel, sculptures and show, All compete and complement mind’s space in tow. Recollections are random, don’t flow in a row. Many remind of riches of creation, to which I bow. Thank you Lord for all that you teach and bestow. Life’s a game of catch and throw.