Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Belief?

A young boy of 10
unshackled yet
full of life and desire
happy and carefree.

Yes! he said to life
camps, sports or Arts
everything he wanted to try
one life after all.

I saw him grow
creativity was his potential
engagement was his approach
and grit was his friend.

He fell a few times
learnt to rise every time
with the same charming smile
happy and carefree.

Pride I felt
as I saw him
become a man
my work done.

He went his way
into an exciting world
to seek more of life
to create some of his own.

years later,
met him as a man
full of purpose, determination
and the same toothed smile.

Pride I felt
as I saw him
be the man.
my work done.

Yet, something
didn't sit right
the choices
he chose to make.

Abandoned his brother
with decisive finality
who chose to marry
outside his religion.

'We don't have anything to do with him!
he didn't care for us
our religion,
our reputation.'

Shattered,
I sought a chair
a moment longer
let it sink in.

Opportunities
Safe environments
role-modeling adults too
Everything and more...

...That one day
he would be a better man
creating
a better world.

Yet,
Here he was
choosing hatred
over love
choosing divisions
over humanity
choosing religion
over family
choosing...

The same toothed smile
but a different man
It didn't make sense.
have I failed?
Did something go missing
in my commitment
in my role modeling?

How could it happen?
A young boy of 10
Had become a man
that worried me
scared me
overwhelmed me.

What world did he enter?
Who did he meet?
Experiences he had?
That he became a man
unknown to me.

Is it Belief?
that shapes a man
beyond his childhood
in the dark chambers
of his being.

Belief,
where does it come from
I know not anymore. 

Thursday, April 12, 2018

Nostalgia

In a disturbed early morning slumber
a brewing desire 
and then it came
Nostalgia.

It's sweet fragrance
wafting into my senses
the pleasure of pain
from a time in childhood.

My senses beckoned me
I sought it out today
the familiar taste
Yum. Lemon rice it was.

The just crisped onions
the almost friend peanuts
the sweet tingling lime
simmered in a yellowed rice
ah! The lemon rice from my childhood.

It was a Sunday ritual
from our favourite joint
It had no name
like most good places.

Just known by its owner
Ranganna, he was
A balding, paunchy man
with a busy smile.

A packet of the glorious yellow
with a stingy sprinkling 
of spicy chutney
perfect for a Sunday morning.

Most times it was dad
who made the trip,
on his rickety Bajaj
sometimes, inviting me to join him.

We could never have a full packet
for we had to share, 
learnt to share
knowing to stay within our means.

Sometimes mom sneaking her share
onto a our emptying plate. 
while we savoured every bite
of the delicious Lemon Rice.

It was that kind of memory today.
While I got the lemon rice
the experience of family
on a Sunday morning
sharing the ritual
was sorely missing.

Each could have a packet-ful
and more
and yet, I sat there alone
eating my fill, amongst strangers. 

Wishing, pleading, seeking
my childhood to come back 
just for a moment
just for a moment.

so I could fret and fume
that I had to share 
and yet find joy 
in the sharing.

A silent prayer 
gratitude
to my father
for this childhood memory.

A memory
that rekindles Nostalgia
known only to someone
that still seeks.