Random musings - I

It happened to be the fifth time I was asking him to pack his project properly, liquid separately and the other items separately, and when he still didn’t budge from his place and went on his talks with his brother, I couldn’t hold my tongue anymore. It never works you know, soft words? You need to raise your voice put in an extra stress at certain places to let him know that you are an angry bird, and don’t stop with just the instruction, go on and on for a few minutes until he finishes his task.

When he was almost finished my dad turns up and rants on how the kid is perfect unlike his own (*rolling eyes*), there was enough time for things to be done and so on, and the kid looks at me accusingly like I was over reacting. 

It does hurt me too, but then did I have any option? As I try changing my mood listening to some music, positioning my headset, I find a tribal woman asking the woman seated next to me for some water to drink, which she gives. I close my eyes and remember that I have forgotten to bring my water bottle.

As a few songs go on, and I feel a little lighter, I open my eyes to check the station, and I see the tribal woman breastfeeding her kid. I close my eyes again and tears form ready to trickle bringing back the morning events, only now I feel my son wasn't wrong. One moment you have all reasons favoring you, you feel at peace, and the other moment something just punches you under the jaw.

As I switch off the music, I see that the tribal woman has left the train, and the old woman sitting across asks the one near me how could she offer water to that woman. She seemed to be surprised that the woman would ask and this one would give. The one who offered her the water said she was taken aback naturally, but how could she say no? What would people think? The older woman said she understood, and suggested the woman throw away the bottle.

The voice inside my mind grows louder and chants Krishna! We have countless stories and theories right from Vedas to Tolstoy that say God manifests around us in all beings, yet we would sing his praise, fast, act altruistic, thinking we are demigods, only to reiterate that we all still remain immature, insensitive, callous and grossly unsympathetic deep inside our hearts.

The warning

A crack, snap, hiss,
and he falls,
singed and scorched,
discolored and destroyed.
"I loved your frizzle",
I am startled.
And turn to see.
"Wasn't that you,
who sizzled?" he asks.

"Are you listening?"
he chuckles,
"I am talking to you",
he taunts.
My heart sways,
or is it a shiver?
Transparent wings,
splashing hues of
bright red and blue.

Seething in between
shades of yellow.
colors that danced,
that looked so pretty
swaying with style
until it cracked and snapped.
"What a gorgeous sway!"
he quips merrily as
I try to smile.

"It's not me,
it's the wind", I retort .
"Yes! It was the wind,
but since it is
I who say,
it must be you."
"You think I am
burning for you?"
I chortle and giggle.

"You entice me
with your colors,
you invite me
with your warmth"
he plays with a hiss.
"that sounds accusing,
Blue ghost*" I smirk.
"You know me?"
"I have seen your likes."

"You may have,
but they were likes
not Me" he guffaws.
He sneers and steers
close enough, and
I shout, "Stop there!
You are foolish!
Stay back, don't
you come near"

"Woman, you are here
to hear, not order"
he stares with
an anger so intense,
"You pride yourself
of your uninviting sway.
And yet with a
slight flicker, I ask you
for tonight not forever."

and so I stopped
my shouts and retorts.
A foolhardy male
never heeds a warning.
Though I go cold
his transparent wings
turn sparkling yellow
and with a crack, snap
and hiss he falls,
singed and scorched,
discolored and destroyed.

*Blue ghost - a type of firefly.
** My note - The narration is by flame and this is dedicated to fireflies whose memories remain just inspirations. Words keep adding to this, and I wonder if I should write a part II.

When I was little I believed

When I was little I believed that
all that I was doing and
all that happened to me
were things I was reciting
about my past from a future.
Who was I in the future?
To whom was I telling my past?

When I was little I believed that
all that went wrong and
all that wounded me
were things that were leaving
as the new day dawned.
Is it still night?
Or has it dawned?

When I was little I believed my
bent halluces were normal
and never did I shy
though a little sad for those
I thought were deprived.
Was it insolence?
Or was it ignorance?

Back to school!

It is a great relief every time the new school year starts after the summer break. Since the kids leave home early, I manage time better. My ears are relieved as I hear less of the loud explosion sounds from their gaming. I get to kindle more now, as they would not be downloading too many books that literally erase my books from view. I don’t have to plan their vacation – movies, restaurants, gaming, toys or places? I don’t have to call up often and coax them into eating the food that I packed and kept right near the desktop.

But this year something in me is worried. Just a day for the school to start, and I ask can’t it be one more week. Maybe I would start crying the moment they leave to school. God! Do I need a day off to cry or cover myself with enough work to forget about them, I wonder? Is it the guilt pang that I was not able to be with them to my heart’s content? Is it because they are growing up or because I am getting old?

They seem to have grown up, more understanding of my lack of time and more accommodating of my temper tantrums. They are more like friends now, sitting shoulder to shoulder lying on the couch watching TV, shouting with excitement every time our hero kicks the villain in the butt, laughing uncontrollably when the silliest of things happen, rapping and making dance movements, exclaiming how people watch silly soaps, discussing why that book had such a plot or this movie had such a dialogue. Every time Tom Hiddleston makes an appearance there will be a snide look-at-your-Loki remark.

And of course, the never-ending questions my younger one asks about the Harry Potter series. "If only a true Gryffindor can see the sword inside the sorting cap, can Ron Weasley see it?" he asks. I think about it and mutter, "Well! possibly. Why do you ask?" and he retorts, "all the Weasleys are in Gryffindor that's why." The other day he says, "Snape looks so sweet, if only he smiles he'll look even sweeter don't you think?", and I am so enthralled that I reveal what is in store in the last book. He immediately gets so excited and says, "I knew it already!"

Yesterday as I was watching teenage mutant Ninja turtles on screen and screaming with the kids, I was surprised how my interests have changed. I have never loved action movies and loud sound. But here I am feeling an adrenaline rush and a loud laugh every time the turtles punch the bad guys. I have never liked the ninja turtles leave alone favoring them. But now I am googling their names and history. Maybe the kids are approaching the teen phase, and that is having its impact on me, as the welcome hugs and kisses as I step in from work are replaced by a wave of the hand and a hi Ma!

As I keep reminiscing all this and feel heavy, chances are they come up with some mischief today and I end up wishing the school starts a day early!