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Birthdays, Festivals and Parties

No longer do I look forward
To wearing my new birthday dress.
Impeccably wrapped gifts no longer
excite me.
I do not cut cakes with numeric
candles glowing on it.
I ignore most messages, pings and tweets,
That remind me of
my birthday.

With each passing festival
I see new trends in the market.
Playing with colors or fire
is not "my thing" now.
I wish no one comes home
with a box of sweets in hand.
I wish not to be wished at all.

I loathe parties thrown by friends,
Their birthdays and their weddings.
Their house-warming and their
baby-showers and their successes.
Sipping a drink in hand and
Reminiscing about chances I had
but did not take.
Wondering about how lost I am.

Where did I lose it ?
At fifteen - when I was blissfully
unaware ?
Or at seventeen ? When I did not
know how to do it.
Or at twenty one ? When I failed to
realize what exactly to do.
Sadly I stopped counting after that.


Enchantress said…
I believe one should never stop celebrating..
Sameera said…
I agree with you. The excitement for birthday diminishes after a certain phase. No more craziness for lovely days, and counting the days months before the birthday.

May be it;s just the part of growing up :)

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I cannot remember my mother,
only sometime in the midst of my play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to
hum while rocking my cradle.

I cannot remember my mother
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air,
the scent of the morning service in the
temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.

I cannot remember my mother
only when from bedroom window
I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,
I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face
has spread all over the sky.

~Rabindranath Tagore
Note : This was one of  the earliest poems I read,loved and cherished.


Concealed by dark clouds
You keep shining.
Bright streaks of light
Dazzle me.
Enchant me.
And keep me waiting..
Waiting for you.

Amidst Soul-lessness

There is smoke somewhere. 
I cannot seem to figure out where. 
The lights are here, the music is here.
Has it been home here ?
Perhaps. Maybe when it did not rain.
Or maybe when it rained and it did not matter.
Maybe when I walked alone, smiling to myself. 
Or maybe when I realized I was okay.
Had it been always like this ?

Not really. 
Things clicked, took effort and blood. 
Did I do it ? Or the beasts did ? Maybe we both together,
Played this game. 
Amidst soulful solitude, it was love. 
Maybe appreciation.
Another journey, another dry spell. 
Will it ever be home again ? 

P.S. : Penned at Candies, Bandra on 11th January 2017