Remembrance

Before I even begin, I have to to dedicate this poem to a friend of mine, who scribbled these lines on the paper on which I had written this poem and tossed aside somewhere. I happened to see it only weeks after she wrote it.

“Sorry that I scribbled on this. Its beautiful. I can see through the words but cannot fathom the intensity of the passion coz u R beyond comprehension. But as far as I know u, I love you & this knowledge is enough to love u & remember u. You bring spring to people around you. Its u who brings the lovely smiles on their faces. Freezing winter steals the colour (cheer) from the face. Let the winter pass by, coz it breeds loneliness which is not elegant. It brings along shivers (fears) & numbness.”

Of a day lost,

I wait and hope for,

With wishes uncovered,

And scattered under my feet.

I look out the window,

And see winter go by,

Vanishing elegant loneliness,

The skies turning bright blue.

And what? I ponder;

Spring does bring?

Have I forgotten the spring of mine?

Or hidden it in winter?

A sigh, I take.

Away from the window, I walk.

Not wishing to ponder beyond,

The incomprehensible loveliness,

Of the smiles that now I see,

For, in them,

My spring I find!

Miracle

When I was seventeen, a miracle happened in my life. Something unexpectedly expected. My aunt gave birth to her second son. One might wonder what might be so miraculous about it, considering the fact that I am the eldest in my family and have lots of younger cousins. Since I was having my vacations and since we were in a joint family system then, I spent most of my time looking after him, the one I call my ‘aniyankuttan’ or ‘aniyan’ in short, meaning little brother. I knew the moment I saw him, there was something special between us, something subtle, but present. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t disgusted by baby poop or barfs or anything. I would clean up after him without a grimace. This came as a shock to all, especially since I get extremely queasy when it comes to such things. I would put him to sleep and often he would be sleeping with me in my arms at night till my aunt came and got him. It was very weird at first when he developed affection to my breast, always turning towards them when in my arms. And it still does. He spends most of his holidays with me when I am home and still sleeps in my arms. One of his hands will always be resting on my breast.

Everything between us is magical. The first song that I sang to him was no actual lullaby. I remember how some of the lines from Darius’s Colorblind came to me. I just began humming from the middle, ‘Feeling fine, sublime, when that smile of yours creeps into my mind……. You make me colorblind’. It was exactly how I felt. Often it wasn’t necessary that he even cried for something, I would just know.

Then, my aunt moved away to another part of the city. Naturally, it was heartbreaking to see my little one break away from the herd at six months. I would wait almost clawing the walls with impatience for the weekend to come, so that I can rush to him. Sometimes, my heart would beat so fast and heavy that I know he wants to see me. When the time comes for me to leave him, he usually hides something of mine, my purse, umbrella or just hang on to my dress and wail. I can never forget those wails. It was as if they made my heart stop.

I just know when his heart beats for me, even in my sleep. There was an incident that made everyone realize that our connection was very strong. I had taken a very strong analgesic for my head ache once. Afraid that it wouldn’t be enough, I took another. This made me sleep through better part of the day and through the night. My parents were worried I would have to be taken to hospital. The next morning, according to my aunt, he just sat up on the bed, jumped out and began to change his dress. When asked why, he said that I wasn’t well and he wanted to come and see me. He didn’t know about the pain killers. There is no answer to why we love each other like this. We just do.

The funniest part is, I get blamed for all the naughtiness in him, through these five years. His famous excuse is, ‘Sruthi chechi does it, why can’t I?’. Somehow, I am fine with it. I know it is just not the naughty things I taught him. Even when he could barely understand English, I would look right into his eyes and say, ‘I love you’. One day, while being cuddled by his mother, he looked at her and said those words. (Yes, yes, I do admit that it is not the only thing he learnt from me. The other day he called me a stupid. I asked him where he learnt it from. You can guess his answer. Also, sometimes he copies my ‘attitude responses’!).

Or the time he asked me why I always take his photos and why his picture is the wallpaper in my mobile phone. I said the truth that the only reason I wanted a camera on my phone was to take his photos. He asked me if I loved him that much, I said yes. He looked at me like he was going to choke and silently climbed onto me and held me tight. I would never forget that look on his face then. He expects me to be there for him, even when he is in a very bad mood, crying and wailing and kicking me, yelling at me to go away (those are the times when I remind myself his nails ought to be trimmed, my whole face would be scratched); I would calmly tell him alright and prepare to leave. But somehow, I never get around to the door. He would just pull me near him and cry in my arms. I know whatever he is, whatever he becomes; I will contribute a major part of it.

He has taught me a lot and still does. He has taught me what it takes to raise a child, to control your temper, and especially that yelling never works with children (I often punish him with silence. Deafening silence.). He has taught me that love is not only about cuddling and laughing together, but also about standing in front of the class teacher while she says how naughty he has been and how he is not paying any attention in class and then try to make him read the bed time story word by word till he screams. It is also about finding out that he draws better than he reads or that instead of squashing a flower like most naughty children do (he is naughty), he would admire its beauty. It is also about holding him tight, getting soaked by the waves on the beach (since he wants to enjoy the most even though he is scared of the waves) and realizing that the only reason he is enjoying is because he trusts me and that the only reason I am calculating the effect of each oncoming wave is because I am responsible for him. It is also about holding him up so he can see the snakes in the cages better and standing in front of each cage till he gets answers to all his questions, and my arm hurts but the pain just vanishes when he laughs with delight. It is also about not being able to take a bath without him banging on the door asking me to finish soon and waiting outside till I do. It is also about the adamant stand that at five years old he won’t eat by himself if I am there, I have to feed him. It is also about realizing that he never forgot the first lullaby I sang to him (I still sing Colorblind at times to him.). Most of all, it is about love. Unconditional and pure love. The love that I see on his face when he sees me. The love that he understood when I said that I love him, long before he properly understood either English or Malayalam. Love that I know will not die.

And that love, for me is a miracle.

The Best

They watch me cry,

And I cry on,

Why? They ask me!

All the answers,

Choke on a sob!

I tell them, I have failed.

Utterly, miserably,

Failed!

Failed at my resolution,

To be the best.

The glorious best,

The best as a parent!

And so, I say,

I cry!

Bewildered, bemused,

Confused and baffled,

They stand!

Tell me I haven’t failed!

The triumphs, the successes,

The victories and the conquests,

Of my children,

Aloud they count!

Careers, wealth and all that matter,

They cite!

Yes…all that matter!

All that matters is life.

And I taught them no life.

Ruefully I smile,

Efforts best of mine put,

For them, in them!

Food, shelter, cloth,

Toys, entertainment,

Education…the best, always the best!

For the best, I bid.

The highest grades,

Topmost ranks,

Trophies unparalleled!

But, I forgot…

To teach them, show them,

Love, humanity!

In my mind’s great rat race,

I forgot nurture,

Forgot friendship,

Sharing and caring!

To love other children,

Children of other parents!

To appreciate their triumphs,

Over my little nuggets,

I was unwilling!

Instead I simmered,

Simmered with jealousy,

Hitting the race a notch higher.

Into my children too,

The simmer, I poured!

Forgot my duties,

To society, to mankind!

To the institutions that moulded me!

Denied justice,

To all else other than me!

And so, my children,

I cry!

I see you,

Groom your children,

To what I was made up,

To what I tutored you;

Apostles of propriety,

Models of political correctness,

Keepers of social stature,

Guardians of hypocrisy!

But, nothing more…

Nothing more!

And with that, my children,

In other hearts,

You cease to exist!

They smile!

Pat my shoulder, walk away,

Whispering to themselves,

‘Senile! That is all!

Our parent, our duty!’

And with that,

In your hearts,

I cease to exist,

Labeled a ‘duty’!

Nothing more, nothing more!

And so, I cry!

Remember me not! ( A stupid, small poem, but i liked it)

Remember me not,

By the reckless words,

Seemingly unleashed!

Remember me not,

By the tantrums I threw,

For the pettiest of motives,

So trivial!!

Remember me not,

Remember me not,

By what I told you I was,

For I am not that!!!

Remember by the sparkle in my eyes,

The careless caresses, unseen, yet understood!

Remember me for the moments you saw me,

not wished to see!!!

And u will see me, as I am!!!

Weddings (thse might be simple words when read, but it a lot more to my friends and me)

Weddings used to make me sick. For me as a girl, the major part of the wedding would be spent trying to get away from ‘aunties’ who ask why am I not wearing enough gold or try and wheedle out family information out of me.( Later of course, I grew up not even caring to answer them, just smile. Or maybe I should try what a friend did. When asked why she doesn’t wear any gold, she retorted that it is because her parents didn’t have enough money.) So, I would be quietly sitting somewhere, not intruding in anything, watching all the rituals, counting the minutes and rolling my eyes when somebody sniffed or cried.

But, then my perception began to change, I began to and still see weddings as a new beginning rather than the ‘going away’ process. I was happy for the couple, sad for the parents who were throwing away such money on a one time affair.

But, a couple of months back, Achu got married. She is a very close friend of mine. She got married with all the pompousness of a typical upper middle class Hindu malayalee wedding! She blushed and looked and was happy like a bride should be. And, standing there, looking at the whole process, I felt nothing but happiness, but, I had to leave early to catch my train back to my university since I had an exam the next day. So, I said goodbye, and the groom, now the husband, came to say goodbye to us two best friends of hers who were leaving. And after the jokes and all (we knew him before, so it was ok!), I just said, ‘Take good care of her, ok?’. And he just laughed and joked about it.

But, the moment I said it, I knew I was choking, I couldn’t breathe. It was a new beginning, a time to celebrate, according to my theory, then why was I sad? Why am I choked up now, remembering the episode? Let that question marinate for sometime.

And then, after a peaceful period, the next one, Suja got married. I was prepared for it, telling Nisha it will be fine, she will be happy, though she will go away to the USA after a few months, it is for the best, etc. And I was happy the day before. We spent the night with Suja, talking about the big day. But, again, I was not ready for the tears that came to my eyes when the thaali (or in hindi, the mangalsutra) was tied. I laughed to her about it and she told me she had expected atleast a complete break down from me. Well yeah, she would expect it. Whenever I get angry at her for something, she just smiles at me till I stop shouting and break out laughing. She knows the power she has over me. Again, I had to leave early for an exam (I do have to tell Nisha not to get married on a Sunday and especially not before an exam!) and this time, I was a bit relieved I wasn’t there when she left with the groom. Perhaps I may not have been so stoic there as I wish I could be.

And now, another close friend (not Nisha) is getting married. And I tell her that she shouldn’t expect any mushy stuff from me. We also talk about the adjustment issues, we speculate over the future, another great friend cries over the idea that she wouldn’t see the ‘old you’ anymore after the wedding, you know… the whole girly girly stuff! And even as I tell her that I won’t cry or anything, I can sense something creeping up in me, something unknown, something that makes me do these things I don’t want to. And I realize what it is. It is just love. I love them so much, I am happy for the whole new beginning, and it is this happiness, the anxiety of how they would fair in their new lives, the sadness that I cannot perceive my friend as she was before – a single human being, and feeling like some body is ripping a part right out of my heart and taking it away on a platter that makes me so weirdly sad.

And I decide that I should let that sadness be there, after all, it is a part of my happiness.