It's like cramming for exams

I monkeyed all day, that day about 6 years ago. I had a History test the next morning and super confident that I always was, I kept from my books, "for just another 15 minutes".

Then 2am was upon me and I stood in front of my dear pal Mira asking her helplessly,"How am I going to cram all this in the next 4 hours? I am soooo sleepy!"

She said," Just do it". She waited with me, kept vigil with her snores and finally drifted off to sleep as I thumped my textbook shut. 

Umang has taken over Mira's mantle. As I wait in REM mode to hear my Ayumi stir awake for her mid night feeding session,  I always think about those numerous History exams that have ruined my night sleep for so many years. Nights are for sleeping. No thoughts, words or deeds, just plain simple sleep. Some white noise and mild dreams with non-dramatic imagery.

My mom and others say that I shall never sleep in peace again. It's one in the morning. My last thought and non-dramatic image: Ayumi feeding in peace, her white noise is my beating heart. Her sleep is mine.

Ayumi

I'm back..No, I'm not attributing this long absence to my pregnancy (though it did seem like a lifetime) or to the fact that I have been completely wrapped round my baby Ayumi's (have to write "ole baba go" and "guccha poochie" after her name) chubby fingers.  I am calm now. Realization has dawned that I am a mother now. 

Ayumi is perfect, no two ways about that. My biggest moment and probably my everlasting memory will be her eyes looking up at me and smiling while she feeds at my breast. She looks at me straight with unadulterated affection that has a clear message," Thanks, fellow human, I feel much better. Food's good!" 

Ayumi is very clear headed. She has a lot to say and she says it out loud and quick and doesn't stop till she's made her point. I don't know yet what her point is; she's two months and two weeks old. But whatever it is there is batter to the babble. She frowns and looks skeptical when she deems it right and refuses to pose for the camera. Her stunned expressions are my most beautiful photographs, so are her grimaces at being tossed and mauled by eager family and friends.

Ayumi gives me a sense of startled awareness. I have to get up and GO. There's no time to regret and fret. There are things to be done and goals to achieve. Ayumi has to have a good life. She's my fervent mission and the greatest love of my life.

Stolen from a friend

A writer -- and, I believe, generally all persons -- must think that whatever happens to him or her is a resource. All things have been given to us for a purpose, and an artist must feel this more intensely. All that happens to us, including our humiliations, our misfortunes, our embarrassments, all is given to us as raw material, as clay, so that we may shape our art."

Jorge Luis Borges

Ennui

This is a time to gloat 
we are such pieces of work
This is how we go about
our daily Ennui

We bathe in the Sun
We Love, eat and try to gain Respect
We then amble along
Gnawing into space

We hate the sound of white noise

"This is mine, this is yours"

We croak until hoarse,

scratch until bleed.

We send our children

Into prompt assemblies

to ask for wisdom

good thoughts, words and deeds

We build our castles

And etherise our air

Then ask for allegiance

to our whimsical gods

We broker peace

Sober in solidarity

But hide our rancor

To light a wayward fire

Love Goes On

He and She

Sat across open windows

Once in a while,
Over the shoulder
Glances were sought,

Not completed.

That was a long time ago
Between rushed breakfasts
Keeling over happily

From fast moving bikes
Rushing through sentences
Proclaiming loud love

Not completed.

Now there is dry earth

And songs sung

Distractedly so

Still melodious though

A walk in progress

A smile at work

Still not complete

Have you time from Bellow and Whatman

Looks like you need
A cold compress
To soothe the errant bigwords
That run by your tired eyes
That giant sized

Nietzsche

A couple of crippling sonnets
Riding once smooth, but now
Beaten down
Or does Greer look at you
In scorn
What about rags
Do they stick out their cursive
Tongues
"Read us your random thoughts"

Do you switch back then,
To rabid cherry pie recipes
Alien but niggling
Or rant along with a shrewd
Adapted
That won some praise sometime

Come on, give up now
Surely, its relaxing
To swim with the tide
Try to make your peace
In the bright glow of your
1 GB
Amongst other Bellows and Whatmans

Elizabeth

Elizabeth is not a mistake
So what on a rough, edgy morning,
Tumbling
On a tablefull of stale bills
On a bed, groaning with lost hope
Around a shrinking therapist
Amidst pressed aunts and
Pasty moms
Drilled by starved minds and
Most uncreative soccer dads,
You gave in and gave up
Lizz, you are not a mistake
So don't make one