Happy Gonesh everyone

Ganpati bappa morya. Just a little bit of this and that as I sit in silence after Ganesh Chaturthi. The house is fragrant with agarbati, mogra and a little something called ugdaas.

This brass aarti paler is from Tulsi Baug, Pune. The idol is from Princess Street carved by a little boy we knew who grew up to be a gifted artist. And the fruit from distant places that made their way to Markham. The jasmine flowers are from Scarborough via who knows where. There's a website, I am told. The agarbatis from Ramji Vani in Naigaum bought in December 2010, my last visit there. And the holder is from Panaji, Goa bought from a gift shop near Fidalgo Hotel. Everything is a story.

Pujas and dosa evenings have something in common in my home: they both set off the fire alarm. Today, the camphor set off the hallway alarm and Rani dashed off to spend the rest of the Aarti upstairs in her bed in a huff.

 

Working alone listening to music of the day, I made shira, daali toi, rice, cabbage upkari and cucumber kocholi with rai chi phodni. Simple fare, special though.

 

I realised that I cannot have my Ganpati lunch without the aroma of cucumber kocholi with the crunch of mustard seeds. Go figure!

 

Record time lunch prep in an hour. Made cabbage bhaji as I had no time to chop phansi for gomti upkari.

 

No dabbya khana, I don't have time to make and no one eats more than a bite. I can't make patrado and don't like the store bought patra as its not amchi.

 

Whatever was missing today was felt deeply the heart.

 

All else was here, right where I am.

 

Making new memories is what life is all about nhavein? Else how can we move forward?

 

Happy Gonesh everyone. 

Montreal Home

"At home. Love you"

says a text message

 

following the rule of

Check In With Mamma

 

My heart leaps for joy

pounds a little and

a second later-stills

 

realises that there    

are now

many homes 

Sunflower Tuesday

He's started asking again

At 15 as he had when 5

Mamma, can we plant 

Sunflowers?

He cranes his neck

When we pass gardens

Or see a few lone, strong stems

Wild and glorious

Beside highway 7

Where few admire or even notice

Their brilliance

We must plant earlier, chelda

I explain

Dig deep, set the distance between,

Prep a rich soul

Next year, okay baba? I say

Next year after the last frost

Lets do this together

Sunflowers, life: same lessons

Yet he sighs

My son

When he sees sunflowers

And that sigh tugs at my heartstrings

And embeds its claws deep inside 

The list of

things left undone 

this summer

He doesn't ask for more you know

My son

He endures, rises above the new normal

He wipes down counters

Fills ice trays, takes out the trash

Watches me for signs of sadness

Pats my back like my grandfather did

Teaches me about popular culture

Computers and Broadway

Steers me away from pain

 

So I walked directly to a tub

And bought a bouquet

Had it wrapped in fancy paper

 

And gave it to him

For me! His face lit up

To see fat, golden sunflowers

 

From someone else's garden this year

Store bought

Sunflowers

 

A promise of shared sunshine

With his mother- me

 

Someday I hope

Two hands stronger than mine

Will dig deeper in rich soil

And plant sunflowers

My brother- life itself

Your success speaks

of many routes and roots.
And the price paid

In many places

Of names lost

And renamed

Of tears shed

And dreams 

Imagined joy

Lights at the end 

of endless tunnels

That shone in minds 

and hearts

Today, 

dear brother

Your name: Life itself

Shines for many

As do you

Everyday I have rejoiced 

this summer

To see that name 

glowing there

The board, the people 

and I

Have waited long for this day!

(Dedicated to J, my brother)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Markham Morning

We're are at the dentist 

This morning 

After a Sunday chat 
and cuddle  

With my daughter  

and the peaceful one 

With emerald eyes and ringed tail 

And breakfast at beloved T and T 

 Just now in the parking lot 

A familiar face 

The man who 
closed down the kurti store 

Whose merchandise marked  

The start of my summer
for years 

has opened a convenience store beside Jaffna kitchen.  

So emergencies are taken care of 

a mental note
milk etc can be bought  

on winter days 

When we forget that we've run low 

 we chat a while: Come visit he invites 

I'm just glad I just met him.  

Simple affirmations that this is IT 

 That's what we'd come here for:
Escapees from 
a fattening expat circuit 

Two years per country, 

An IB education 

And friends from consulates and multinationals 

Who smacked
their little daughter's hand 

If she reached 
for a rival pop brand 
at a birthday party 

Who tracked status 
by your car brand 

And the crystal glasses 
filled with good ol' H2O 

We came here: with 9 bags, each other, two children 

And no jobs 

Stepping off a cliff 

Into a chasm
On a belief 

Sold us by 
immigration messages 

To belong, to know people by name, 

to ask about kids growing up 

and to share stories  

of where we're were headed. 

So I guess 
after 11 years 
this is home.

Tears Talk

The first thought of this day 

It's here- the book 

A first,
second,
or fifth- loved just the same

 

Yet hidden in this delight, 

I find a niggling thought
that whispers: 

you didn't say what you wanted to

You said too much,  

you said too little 

You fool, 

you looked terrible  

With tears in your eyes
In that place

And I stand strong 

shut my ears  

and shake my head- I don't listen

to this voice 

today

I was with friends, I retort 

people I came from 

and those who come from me

They don't care 
about more or less
T

hey've let me be 

And for them I spoke 

And for those who weren't there 

That live in my heartbeat, 

each one

Leave, now 

You Sly Critical-Voice-Of-Days-Bygone 

 

I command,recognizing this whisper, 

Let me show you the door 

Don't bother coming back
  

My tears come
from a place of strength

courage 

and as Disha knew long ago, 

at the tender age of 3

From joy

I'm like this only

And it's okay

My Jai-Hind, caught at midnight

Dear compatriots in Hindustan: don't scoff at my Jai Hind
It comes from a place of respect

Where everyday I teach my children
And remind others around me
That there's more to me
Than silk saris and spicy samosas

And everyday I fight against
The mud slinging
When people call us 'those people'

I

 do not stand on a pedestal

I stand with you
Paying respects to the Tiranga
And cheering for our men in blue

I also remember LakshmiBai
And Bachendri, and Usha
And Kalpana
Arundhati
And Shamsia, Sudnya,
Advita, Ipsita, Kaaveri, Vishakha
And Veena
And I think of Tahira from across the border
Who calls me Didi

Batwaara and Azaadi
Two sides of the same coin then!
The lines drawn by unseen hands long ago
Wounds festering to this day

May freedom come
With humility and no caste divides

May no Nirbhaya die

And may we promise
That borders between hearts
Are erased forever
So the master plan of Batwara
Doesn't win over
And over

This I wish us
On this curious day

For both Jai Hind
And Sar Zameen are made of
People and
Their children, so like mine.