This rainy Sunday, it is Hindustani

22nd May 2011

Kayee saalon se zindagi kuch jamm see gayee hai,

ab waqt hai woh karney ka jo karna padta hai,

lekin jaantey hai hum

key iss doar ke baad, ayengey woh din

jab dil aazaad hoga
aur hum woh karr sakengey
jiski khwaish barson se hai hamarey saath
jisey kabhi tanhaai mein
hum halkey se choootey hain
aur kehtey hain
bass thodi der aur
ruko zaraa
jeena ab bhi baaki hai
(dedicated to my desire to learn the sitar someday, for which my busy life right now, does not give even a sliver of time)

Purple, precious

Grt to see you today, my friend.

your eyes speak of a sadness

that your smile belies

and I do not know

how I can help,

if at all

so I am going to say many things

and hope at least

one or some bring peace:

you are more than a number

silver shines with wisdom

in cultures not as restricting

and

those that we cannot see

are not far from us

we just have to realign our frequencies

and if we sit in silence

they come and softly stroke our hair

the fragrant lilacs

remind me of you

as do the orchids

and silk scarves

you who adore the colour of queens

must surely know that

you are precious.

June 6th, 2011

Packing Day

I watch as she packs up 
her childhood 
into neat little boxes.
And looks at the future 
With the same
Diamond eyes
That shone for me when days were bleak

And I know as did others
That when roots are strong
And wings are too
The flight is joy
And unfettered bliss

As I watch her stand on the threshold 
Of independent life
I smile
As she takes with her
The wish lists of all her mothers
Radha, Kamala, Veena, Niti, Vishakha, Sushma, Suniti, Selvi and 
Me, the one who will write the stories.
22nd August 2012

The laughable hypocrisy of some relationships

They start falling off like leaves in the autumn, these loosely tied human relationsips. They can be those joined by blood, or from a long shared life path, it doesn't matter. The invitations to tea,  dinner, Thanksgiving and what not dissipate like mist in the sunshine. Sometimes, people are so wary of even saying hello while passing me by in a narrow corridor that they look straight ahead. They amuse me, these people who pretend that they care about me and my children, that they are not afraid of the contagion of separation and divorce, They pray at their temples and clap rhythmically at bhajans, they lend their mellifluous voices in collective devotion, yet they lack the one thing that a grieving family needs: they lack courage and they surely lack the honesty to face their own hypocrisy.

With a chuckle in my heart, I say hello to them when they pass me by. This startles them and they stumble over their own self righteous tongues to say hello. OMG, she talked to me, now I have to say something. I cannot pretend I didn't see her: Their eyes shuttered, they walk on by.

Others leave frantic messages on my answering machine when they know that their deliberate exclusions have been found out by the sharing of photos by well meaning friends. "Call me, we MUST talk. We haven't been in touch for so long" they shout breathlessly into their phones. This hammering of my virtual door leave me unmoved. Really.

It's okay, I want to tell them. Don't feel ashamed of your hesitation to invite me or my children to your homes, parties or shindigs. I know you are confused and scared. You have seen death and lived through it, we all have by this stage in our lives. But this is new for you, perhaps. The signing of papers leading to the systematic dissolution of a relationship that was considered to be picture perfect. But I am not washing my hands relentlessly like Lady Macbeth, just so you know. I did not kill anyone, I did not wish anyone gone. I am not contagious, neither is my condition. I am not out to ruin your party.

I have a busy life and a happy one. I know how to raise my children and they know how to raise me. We are okay, in case you wondered about that. The Village Grocer makes a yummy Thanksgiving dinner and we had fun. I am sure New Year's Eve will be wonderful for the children and me as we are happy together, We don't miss any forced bonhomie and shifty glances. You don't have to pretend anymore. You don't have to shout into my answering machine with your hilarious excuses.

You are encouraged however, in the interest of your own journey, to know that life does change. It's changing, even now for you. So don't add to my amusement with your shifty glances please. And please, oh please stop pretending that you care. It doesn't matter, really. Free yourself from this weight.

Amma used to say that when one leaf falls to the ground, new ones take their place.

The kids and I are fine. And better off without the hypocrisy of your pseudo solidarity.

Hissab

Tajurbaa batoar liya hai buss
Itney saalon mein
Tum kaudi kaudi ka hisaab rakhna zaroor
Hum toh yun hi yaadon ko tarashtey rahey
Rashmee Karnad-Jani

Another winter

First snow of the year. Mixed feelings
The passage of time
One more year
One more rhyme
Shovelling, 
Heavy lifting
And hot chocolate
Walks at Milne maybe
And long moments spent reading
First snow
And mixed feelings
(C)
2014

Fall leaves and consoling people

I wonder as I speak consolation to a grieving woman, how did I get to this point? I am at the end of my fourth decade and already have 27 years of parent-loss under my belt and 42 years of caregiving. Surely, I can retire now with full benefits? I am told that "isn't a thing" as teenagers would say. I am not allowed to stop doing what I have done for so long. I just have to keep doing it as long as I live.

I speak of the binary of loving someone so wonderful as a parent recently (or not so recently) lost and the excruciating pain of missing them with every breath. I think of the dissonance of knowing that the striated muscles of my face are incapable of controlling the steady leaking of tears that run out of brimming eyes at the sadness that I see in fall pictures, two brothers walking together in the distance or a green tree behind a soon to be bare one. And I wonder at the swag I have on the basis of having done all this when I was 21. Of being left to fend for many, including myself.

My son explained some economic concepts to me yesterday on a short walk through Main Street where he used big words kindly to share his learning about how the actions of some affect the lives of others. I hear ya, kid.

And as I watch the flurries swirling this Saturday morning, I acknowledge the many parts of me that are jostling for attention in this busy life. I will get to you, I promise.

Until then, there's a fridge to clean, a plumber to call, a roofer to chase, marking to complete, transition plans to write.

I guess it is good, this busy-ness. It leaves less time to wallow. And even less time to bawl. I know that if I chose to do that, it would scare the kids and everyone else.

I am the Elder, I just have to lace up those winter boots and keep on walking.