The blurb ob by blob...

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Mother, writer and daydreamer. Also chocoholic and chick-flick lover. But mainly mommy. To two boys, at that! When not escorting my Elder One (EO) to karate class, I'm trying to get in as many cuddles as possible from my Younger One (YO). And when not doing either, I'm hard-at-work trying to maintain a steady relationship with my laptop. And as for the Man I Married (MIM), well, let’s just put it this way – even though we share a bedroom, our most meaningful conversations are held over the cell-phone!

Thursday, May 31, 2012

My Heart Over-floweth...

About a month ago, when the MIM I married was away, WW3 was in progress in my bedroom...both boys were fighting for the middle space, so that I could sleep next to one of them. I said I'd sleep in the middle and then they could both get me. Nah, no good. They were not in a mood to share. Of course I had my way. I pushed them apart, put my pillow in the middle, said "Good night, I love you", switched off the lights and left the room. I took a peek some time later...they were fast asleep, the middle had been kept empty for for their clasped hands across the bed, resting peacefully on mamma's space.


Mornings in our house, are normally filled with least on holidays. A couple of weeks ago, while one boy was listening to music on the iPod & singing along ('Phantom of the Opera', if you please), the other was singing from a book of Disney lyrics. My heart and eyes were ready to burst!

Aaah! The difference a few days can make! Lately, all they're interested in is listening to the theme 'music' of their favourite WWE wrestlers. Sigh! As if there's not enough noise in my life already!

But then of course, the EO's words this morning acted like a balm on my very frazzled nerves..."Mamma, I want to learn the words of 'Purano Sei Diner Kotha'..." (a famous Rabindrasangeet)
Sigh! I guess I can live a little with 'Veil of Fire', 'Booyaka', Andrew Llloyd Webber and Rabindranth Tagore co-existing peacefully, side by side.

Friday, May 11, 2012

Sing a Song of Me

Maybe I'll paint my nails today.
Or go to the salon for some pampering.
Maybe I'll wear a sari today,
with silver jewelry
and line my eyes
with kohl
and laughter.
Or maybe I'll just stay in my pj's
the whole day
with clouds of perfume
dancing above my head.

I'll probably buy some chocolate
just for me
and eat it up whole --
every last smudge of it
and that too
licking off the melty bits from the
shiny foil.
Maybe it'll be Lindt.
Or Guylian.
Whichever one it is,
I'll do it guilt-free.

Perhaps I'll let the whole day slide away,
from one frame to the next,
minute by minute,
second by moment,
and I'll just let the ironed clothes be,
leave the books open,
and not care if the wet towel's on the bed.
As usual.

I won't care.
I won't.
I refuse to.

Maybe I'll write poetry today.
Or read some at least.
Buy a book.
Or three.

I'll stand in front of the mirror,
and accept myself
and my body.

My body,
with gravity-loving breasts,
dimpled cheeks
(of the derriere),
those blasted hate-handles
and that big mound
of quivering,
jelly-like lard
and NOT
mourn the decade past,
when I was younger
and definitely beautiful,
but just didn't have the wisdom to see it,
own it
and know it to be true.