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The Mother knows

When does a mother feel proud about her child ? 
Is it when the baby walks for the first time ? 
Or is it when the child calls the mother for the very first time ? 
No, it must be when the child runs wildly with glee. 

Ever watched a mother caress a baby ? No blemish or mask.
A pure emotion that awaits a definition. The very next moment, 
The baby leaps out of the mother's reach. Who can contain the 
breeze of  childhood and innocence ? The mother watches. 

At every birthday, a cake is baked. The guests change, children too.
When does a mother feel proud about her child ? Is it when 
The child attains adulthood ? Or when the first earning is put in 
The mother's hands ? I do not know, but the mother knows. 

It is every time the child smiles, every time the child speaks,
Every step the child takes, every hurdle the child crosses. 
Every time the child runs to her for a missing button, some 
Advice or even a hug. The mother always knows.


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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