What do you call a home? A place to rest after you roam. A pad to share with those with a common genome. Or is it firstly and fore-mostly - a feeling, a syndrome? Rooms, furniture and furnishings make a dwelling, What makes a home a deep, special feeling? With what and how much effort and intent? Are homes sustained despite consent and dissent. While each unit runs on different principles and note, Home is ideally where members care and camaraderie devote- On each other to feel unequivocally loved, With space to exist as individuals-without being judged. So many emotions are at play in each home, Good, bad and ugly-to which we are all prone, Sentiments are teased and tested at regular doses, High and low feelings exist with and without proses. Happy homes run on large heartedness, Dollops of forgetfulness and forgiveness, Not on dominance and oneupmanship, But on positive vibes and lasting friendship.
Teen daughter recently said, your writing is sanguine but serious, She suggested, I write something simple and spontaneous, Not didactic, yet delicious, Preferably funny and humorous. I promised to try. But mostly to get by. She has given me a task tough, As if my writing is not enough. Our children are our biggest critic, Some say, they, us mimic. I think they develop their uniqueness, In some traits we might see likeness, In others, clear individualistic starkness, But surely, unabashed perkiness. Our dear children that we have had the privilege to rear, Soon become harbingers of new ideas from far and near. Not on everything do we see eye to eye, But fresh perspectives open new doors by and by.
Pure, unadulterated silence of early morning is mesmerizing. The quiet all around is energizing. My prayers are uninterrupted. Observations of my surroundings-undisrupted I can feel more keenly. Sip my chai serenely. Sun will soon rise without a din. Sounds and sights of the day will begin. Chirps of birds will fill the air. And morning will be announced with flair. Soon, my home too will wake. One by one, the members will rise and shake. Quiet kitchen will stir and take, A new avatar- a fresh make. Appetizing aroma will announce a bake. My gals might wonder- is it muffin, bread or pancake. Morning tea will flow. Several times in a row. Outside, an early riser might mow. Another one may tow or stow. Humdrum of the day will start. Nothing new, yet an art. To feel and appreciate with a full heart Gratitude towards life-gifts and darts.