Different

She: I see animals in the clouds, shapes in the rocks and faces in the gnarled roots of trees.

He ticked on special wing, padded rooms.

Parenting is another name for karma

Every time I start to yell at my girl
For not getting up on time
For not cleaning up after play time
For not eating right
For being sassy
For being rude
For whining

An ever present elder nods sagely and informs me, this is how you were when you were younger, imagine how your mom must have dealt with you.

Whoever said Karma comes back to bite you on your ass, I do not like you.

Touched by angels

Not all relationships have names

These nameless relationships

Are at once love, friendship, admiration and more

They come and they go

Leaving behind a whiff of something intangible

And yet so infinitely important.

Unintended

I thought of her yesterday
When I was giving my girl a bath
I thought, she would have done it for her daughter too
And I felt a little sad.

I thought of her late at night
When I was reading a message from a friend
I thought, she would have giggled at the words
And I felt a little sad.

I didn't think of her this morning
As I was aimlessly surfing through various social media platforms
I didn't think stumbling on her name
Static and cold would cause so much hurt,
Beyond sadness, beyond pain.

Permanent

I look at a stone and I think of you
I hear a song and I can hear you humming along
I eat a spoonful and I imagine you dipping into my plate
I see a puppy and I know how you would melt
I feel the rain and I see you dancing in it
I sigh at the mountain and I feel your awe

Sometimes I forget
You are just a memory
But then again
Memories are a fine thing
Because you are in them
Whole, beautiful and alive
And most importantly,
Forever.

#memories

The fool's folly

There are days like today when words seem to come from someplace else.

He reads and worries that the words are from a well that is deep and damaged.

Untrue and unfounded

Baseless

I argue

Because these words are not mine

They don’t belong to me

I am but a tool

The fool is someone else.

And a fool’s folly

Is in waiting for the inevitable to happen

And

To hope against hope

For a way to stop it

Because the fool’s heart

Believes in miracles

And sometimes

A fool’s prayers

Can turn the world upside down

And the tool’s destiny

Is to watch the inevitable destruction

And write words, deep and damaged

Stranger in the mirror

What are your colours today?

Orange, yellow and red I said

She laughed and laughed

And called me a liar

And pointed to the grey, blue and black

No, I insisted

No

The all knowing stranger in my mirror,

She laughed again

At my denial, distress and dismay

Grey grey grey and black

She repeated

Under the farce

Over the lie

Is your colour true

And that, is black so dark

It is blue.

Be still my beating heart

The vagaries of the heart
Is never clearer
Than when you sit and stew
And brood and vent
For hours and days and months
But forgive and forget
And dive right back in the deep end
Because the phone rang.

Hooked

Like an incomplete painting
She has got a piece missing
And like the incompetent amateur
I fail to see what it is

Is her nose a little wayward?

Her pose, awkward?
Is it the clothes she wears?
Or the way she stares?

I miss the eye
The key to see
The flaw may be in her
Or maybe, it is in me.

I try to ignore her
And sometimes, to out-stare
She wins, she draws, she pulls
Always and eternally, my incomplete muse.

word.

How does a stone cold diamond outweigh the depth of a warm couplet?
Words woo. Words win. Every single time.

 

Jump

You must be a remarkable person to know what the other person is thinking, what the other person is, by simply looking at them.
You must either be a great psychic to possess such detailed insight into a stranger's character or a seer who has read it all from the stranger's eyes.
You must be beyond brilliant to know what a person will do in a certain situation even when the person in question is still struggling with a decision.
You must be God.
You must indeed be.
God of Assumption, Presumption and Jumping to Conclusions.

my people

When nostalgia sneaks up and threatens to choke you

You reach out and grab a fistful of the virtual
And curse every God in every reality

For writing different destinies

Then, they come in bits and bytes

Talking, sharing, saying silly things

And you thank every God in every reality

For writing them in your destiny.

Simon, go back, really

If all you want to do
every day
every minute
is to crib and moan
about a country
and its people
while not moving a finger
to do anything about
the sorry mess
I guess it would be wonderful
all around
if you got your sorry ass
out of the said country
no?

a bird in hand

She wondered often
how it would be
to be loved with a passion
so furious and all encompassing
that it burnt like an inferno

She wondered often
and overlooked
the steady calm flow
of a river of love.

Be a jewel bird

There are these tiny birds that fly around busily where I live. They are really small, the size of my thumb with a beak that looks super sharp. These little birds come in several gorgeous colours; emerald green, bright blue, glossy black and a few shades in between. I don’t know what they are officially called, in my head they are the jewel birds. I love watching them as they furiously go about collecting food, looking for bits of string or such to build their nest. They go about their business separately, but occasionally get together and chatter awhile before getting back to work. In the evening, they all get back home to a common tree. Chaos ensues before calm falls.

These birds remind me of women, not because they are all female, but because of how different each of them looks and yet, like us, they share something deeper, something so unique. As women, our strength, our fear, our love, our angst are all woven together to make such a remarkable entity.

It was then that a thought occurred, if the women got together, stuck together and stopped being each other’s worst nightmare, who would dare to stand up and do them harm? Who would dare speak against a woman when her fellow females stood rock solid by her?

I would go to war with the women I call my friends by my side. They are my pillars; they are women who have immense inner strength and a beauty of being. They are rough and soft and sweet and sour and catty and humorous and frivolous and deep… they are a glorious multifaceted lot who can make and break the very fabric of this society.

This women’s day, could we all hold up our hands and say we would stand by each other, through thick and thin, better or worse? Could we respect the amazing spirit each one of us has been bestowed with and give a friendly boost to others whose light is flickering? Could we be like those little birds, each individual jewels, who together, are a minefield of beauty and joy?

Let us choose freedom over the petty and stand by each other, for together, we are a truly formidable bunch.

Happy Days, Women.