Last Night

 

Last night was longer and made for torture or reflection or for savoring of loneliness. Like an ancient tomb where the souls come out gasping for life and searching for potential bodies which they can occupy. The soul with as opposed to them struggles to escape.

I lay taking in the  stuffy darkness of the room.  Everything began to rapidly merge into blackness. Unfamiliar shapes, menacing, uncanny, or merely grotesque began to emerge.

Some prisons don’t have bars, or guards. Such was last night, thicker than any wall, blind, empty and  immensely engulfing . Like a huge gaping hole which slowly sucks you in and  now and then you brush against appalling things that roam and prowl in its chambers. You see nothing. Hear nothing. The murderously asphyxiating silence is all one has for company . 

Was I scared? No. It was a trance like state where you feel nothing or feel so deeply that the pain makes you numb.

An owl screeched and I could imagine it gliding past my window. Stillness returned.

On the opposite wall a pattern began to emerge. The fluorescent hands of the clock like some invisible claws blurred into nothingness and a face of time emerged. The glowing numbers burned holes in my mind. Nothing stirred.

Spellbound by the deep penetrating eyes I lay transfixed on my bed.  Thirst like the scrape of hot sand-paper began to bruise my throat. I tried to get up but something held me tightly to the bed. My eyes returned to the face on the wall.

All the uncertainties, all the questions came rushing to me. Here was Time who had all the answers.

“Only the time will tell ” I was told.

I looked beseechingly , pleading for the answers. None came.

Maybe it wasn’t time for them to be revealed.

So, why was it here, staring at me like a death mask ?

What did it want?

Why it glaring eyes seemed to look accusingly at me, making me shift uncomfortably?

Time doesn’t tell anything. It doesn’t heal. Don’t believe it all you have been told. Time simply crushes you, chains you, makes you its slave and whiplashes you to obey its commands. The answers, the healing comes from either within or from elsewhere. Time just watches the drama and laughs at our misery . Time is the devil to whom we have sold our souls. It is the master , we  mere slaves. Only an inner uprising can bring the change. Only that can create true love, true courage, true self.

Tonight the battle was at its peak but something was amiss or maybe someone and it made all the difference.

I shifted my pillow to the other side but I could still feel its gaze  penetrating   through my skull.  It’s measured ticking reverberating.

With some effort I pulled myself out of bed and removed and shoved the menacing clock under a pile of clothes. The muffled sound of its breathing still audible.

I gulped a chilled glass of water and decided to lie facing the window. The hot summer night-sky claimed me.

The butter-gold moon came encroaching through my window. Suddenly filling it with a calm glow. Spent by my inner state of being I watched as it lingered in deep sky. Watching me with its forlorn eyes.

A jarring buzz vibrated in the small of my back  scaring the wits out of me. The cell phone had quietly slid itself and nestled in the comfort zone away from the events of the night. The led light brought me back to the real world. Reluctantly I opened my laptop to work. Sometimes one is just pulled from all sides like an elastic band and then released. The sting of pain shot through my head as my fingers tapped mindlessly at the keyboard.

The cellphone meanwhile breathed its last. Sleepless and restless I went to put it for charging, took the chair out in the balcony and slumped on it. The moon had disappeared behind the high-rise buildings. The air was still and did not provide any solace. Back in the room I brought the clock out . The hands had miraculously appeared, the face had melted into the fiber of the machine. 3 AM it said.

I could hear an early bird call somewhere.

Sometime loneliness and absence digs its claws deeper than usual and leaves one wounded. Such was last night. The ache hasn’t subsided nor has the yearning.

You and Me – More places where I found you

I found you in the creases of my bed, in the mirror when I suddenly turned around and glanced at it, in silence of early morning and in the stillness of the night, in the rise and fall of my chest, in the warmth of water cascading down my aching shoulders, in my fingertips as they traced upon all that you wrote to me, in the webs between the fingers, in the heat nestled between the legs, in the vodka flavored ice cubes  kissing my lips and dripping down my neck, in the salt of my tears, in the honey dripping from a hot crisp toast as it touched my mouth, in the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, in the box of spices ( cinnamon and clove ),  in the swirl of Bavarian chocolate ice cream as  it melted on my tongue,  in the jingle of the charms of my bracelet, in the kohl that lined my eyes, in the softness of  lingerie that clinged to my body, in the changing colors of the sky, in the delicate ensemble of words, in the early morning drizzle, in the depth of the night sky, in tequila sunsets, in the shadows of dusk, in the tangerine mornings, in the droplets of water precariously clinging to my wet hair, in the blush that rises on my cheeks, in the base of my throat, in the half-open box of crayons, in the edge of the rose-tinted cloud, in the jingle of coins in my pocket, in the swaying sheer curtains, in the prayer flags fluttering in the summer breeze, in the smoothness of cocoa butter as it melted and morphed  into the skin to become my body, in the soft moonlight that filtered through the bare branches of trees, in the paper boat merrily drifting , in the whistle of the steam engine as it turned around the corner, in a folder named “favorite” , in the music that linked us  from across the miles, in the sensuous sweetness of your name when I whispered it in my sleep, in the verses of Neruda as I feasted on them tucked inside the comforter, in scent of cookies baking in the warm oven, in the bowlful of vodka flavored ice cubes and the lemon slice that floats in it, in the smile that struggled through the tears, in the changing shapes of raindrops on the cold glass windowpane, in the heat rising from the city roads, in the fiery magenta, pinks, oranges , whites and yellows of Bougainvillea draped over ancient walls and clinging to the naked trees, in the folds of my laughter and in the eyelids heavy with sleep, in the changing temperature of cold marble floor beneath my burning body, in the thirst that rose in my parched throat and in the  subtle flavours of my life. 

I can go on making a list , listing all those dark secret places where I found you , those mundane things that remind me of you like a baby sleeping peacefully in comfort of his mothers arms, his little head resting on her soft breast.

Now I want something Real, something truly your own to  touch and smell and breathe and kiss day and night.

I want to find you in you and in me at the same time. 

Also Read You and Me series here

A Mother’s Memoir.. Kid 1 (NaBloPoMo)

Six feet tall and looking handsome in his black suit, he stood in the doorway ready for the farewell ceremony for the last year in school.

I watched my 17year old with a mixed feeling of intense love and pride. My first born was soon going to be eighteen in few months. How time flies. Kids grow up and one after another they take the challenges of new phases of life.

Adi was born on a fine October morning and all the pain of two hours of intense labor seemed nothing in front of the joy I felt when I held him for the first time. I remember he had bright sparkling serene eyes but there was also a glint of mischief in them.

He was never a cry baby and as long as he was fed and dry he remained a constant bundle of joy. I laugh when I remember all the antics he used to do as a little imp.

Adi was a thin, athletic boy and when he started walking , there was not a single thing that remained intact. The house looked Tsunami hit with the fast and furious driver racing his red walker all over the house. Within no time the walker was replaced b the tricycle and I had a really tough time balancing the various objects that flew in the air as he hit the table, the cabinet, the trolley and whatever came in way.

ADI with me

I allowed him to blossom in his own way but taught him the basics of all that a mother needs to teach a growing child and not only that each day was a new learning experience for me too. Tied with a strong bond of friendship our heartstrings attached to each other we spent unforgettable moments of joy, laughter and tears.

A quite child he would sit for hours glancing through the colorful world of books and splashing the paints on the old newspapers that I gave him to keep him engaged as I worked in the house. He loved to watch the world of nature around him and spent endless hours trailing ants and looking out of the balcony, giggling and laughing as he watched the squirrels and birds and dogs in the park.

He joined the playschool at the age of 2 1/2 and never for a day created fuss over getting up so early in the morning even in the thick winter. The house was always in a tense situation with family issues that took a toll on both of us but somewhere the child was growing mature from within and it was very evident in a few years that he behaved in a much matured manner than his peers.

He had his share pf pranks and fun and was a terror when it came to naughtiness. He locked me in the bathroom, pored the shampoo bottle into the tub to have bubble bath and squealed with joy at his handiwork and did all kind of unimaginable things but they were all part of growing up and although they brought tears of anger at that time but ultimately we both managed to clear things up.

At the tender age of three Adi went through a phase which each one of us would want to erase from our memory. He battled with Nephrotic syndrome and glumeronephritis one after the other. Quietly he would lie on his hospital bed, taking in all the pain and discomfort, not making any demands or throwing tantrums. He would even watch me taking care of him 24/7 and often tell me to rest even if he was suffering.Those days of illness brought us closer.

Life continued as he crossed junior school and started a new phase of his life in the residential school. It was a difficult decision for both of us but it did real good to him as he emerged as a winner in every field.

The hostel life had it’s ups and downs but it made me stronger, independent and brought out the various talents which were buried deep due to the lack of opportunities.

Five years in the lovely hills of Ranikhet helped him tremendously in every possible way and his health also improved.

We often talked about the emotional, psychological aspects of the life he had led since he started to understand his surroundings.

A new kind of friendship developed strengthening the previous bond. we realized we had so many common interests and it became a pleasure to spend time with time with him. Even today we discuss our problems, share our secrets, our joys and pains just like two best buddies will do. This was the time the two brothers also became the best buddies and also partners in crimes

He went back to his previous school and excelled in his academics and developed his passion for fine arts and sketching.

His love for nature and wild life is something I associated with. Like me he loves the snakes and has absolutely no fear of handling even the bigger ones.

It was a challenge for both of us to come to terms with what life offered us on the roller coaster ride we were on but despite the various tides of everyday living we eventually emerged as winners.

Now after completing his school life he is ready to take on the world and pursue his dream of doing animation and visual effects with Frameboxx Animation something he always wanted to do.

I remember as a child his teacher would refer to him as walking encyclopedia and he dreamed of being a marine zoologist but time changed and so did his interest. Even now I am sometimes amazed at the kind of knowledge the boy has.

I always wanted my children to be completely independent, self sufficient and open to learning and curiosity. I wanted them to blossom into good human beings with values that would make them prove their purpose of coming into this world and being part of the bigger scheme of things.

I am glad the boy is sensitive to his surroundings and though he has his normal teenage fancies and desires he has not forgotten his roots.

As I watched him leave for the big day I said a little prayer and thanked the creator for giving me a child every mother would be proud of.

To err is human but to learn from our mistakes and move one step ahead to become a better human being is a quality one develops on one’s own. He has that quality.

I wish him success and hope that as he moves on in life he discovers himself and stays tuned to his inner and to the universe around him.

I always tell my boys, Never do anything in your life, that makes it difficult for you to look into your own eyes when you stand in front of the mirror. Listen to what your heart says and do what you feel is right and for what your inner says YES.

Cheers to Adi !!

To Mom with Love

This is a poem dedicated to my loving mother, my best friend and confidante.

See more at http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1564014/to_mom_with_love.html