tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-128693812024-03-08T07:57:08.956+05:30from my heart......Truth is what comes from the heart... Welcome to my world of scribbles!monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.comBlogger547125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-3143393413324842962024-02-14T14:14:00.002+05:302024-02-14T14:14:20.010+05:30On Valentine's<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He sits there fidgeting with playdoh. Normally it would drive me mad. But today it seems I have some left over patience from yesterday. I smile and take it from him. </span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-798c9dce-7fff-198a-10e5-b498d6ecb273"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Let me make something”, I say. “ And while I make something, you will write”.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He doesn’t write, but watches me , as I mold the red colored clay to a little rose flower.As it nears completion, he asks me, “Is it for Appa, for Valentine’s?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No”, I say, “It’s for you! You are my Valentine!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Not for me.. I am too young!”, he shies away.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You know, Love is not only romantic. Love is maternal too”, I say. “And you are my sweetheart”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He is happy now, and takes my rose. I get the gift of a peck on my cheek. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">And we resume writing.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span>monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-70549252451017077962023-12-08T08:41:00.005+05:302023-12-08T08:41:31.065+05:30Magic<div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Magic</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">=====</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It's dark, cold and just about begins to drizzle, just about to turn bleak.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"It's beautiful!!", you say, looking up, mesmerised.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I look up to see a street lamp we are passing my, and the rain droplets sparkling as they gently fall on me, and it indeed is beautiful, like a thousand stars glistening, just for me, right there. It's magical!!</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Where did this magic come from, all of a sudden?Is it the rain? Is the cold night, or the lazy walk? No, It's you!</span></span></div>monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-80299365011941268592019-10-28T23:08:00.000+05:302019-10-28T23:08:17.936+05:30Different <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I may be weird,<br />a bit of an odd ball,<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><br />a self-conscious one at that!</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px;">
I may have weird head-bobbing,<br />or an accent,<br />or an eccentricity!!</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I may tear up,<br />or stay calm,<br />or handle emotions,<br />my own way!</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I may day-dream,<br />I may sing a song,<br />or dance crazy!</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
But then,<br />How different am I from you?<br />Aren't we all just unique?</div>
</div>
</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-82144405758140671032019-08-30T11:28:00.002+05:302019-08-30T11:28:34.684+05:30Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
She has gone on with about 3 hours of sleep per day for a few days now. The third day, it is begining to show. Her steps slow down, and the smile weakens. Appearing normal is now an effort, she is no longer able to make. Clouds gather in her sky, and negative thoughts make them darker. She envisions herself just stopping, lying down somewhere and going to deep, undisturbed sleep. It makes her smile momentarily. Momentarily, because, she knows like Robert Frost, she lite<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">rally has miles to go before she can sleep.</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px;">
Yet she drives on, for time and life wait for no one. Once at her destination, her eyes close as soon as she can sit. 15 minutes, that seem like an eternity later, she sets to work. It was like she was picking up from couple of mintes back. She smiles at the wonderous adventure that was to be that day. And suddenly, she is fresh as a flower.</div>
</div>
</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-88270139791458211892019-08-06T09:49:00.003+05:302019-08-06T09:50:22.959+05:30Be you!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I know in a fast flowing world, where people can and will do anything to succeed, sticking by ethics and principles is difficult. Sometimes you just want to do unto others as was done to you.<br />
<br />
It's indeed hard to stick by your belief system, when the world would think you a fool to do what you do.<br />
<br />
But you know the best part of sticking to your belief system? Not once, not even once, have I lost anything because I stuck to my belief system. I may not have gained, or gotten any better. But I haven't lost either. :)<br />
<br /></div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-77144856993975724782019-07-24T21:50:00.003+05:302019-07-24T21:50:39.305+05:30Failure <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Failure I think,<br />
Is like vaccine.<br />
You inject that<br />
which is undesired,<br />
so you may be stronger.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
Failure I think,<br />
is that bitter pill,<br />
you swallow,<br />
to overcome a weakness,<br />
you never knew existed.</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
As with success,<br />
So with failure,<br />
It is but one of the many colors,<br />
In the painting of life,<br />
An experience<br />
in the movie of life,<br />
For tomorrow brings,<br />
Another turn,<br />
Another dawn,<br />
Another opportunity!</div>
<br /></div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-48594881592552133872019-07-16T16:31:00.003+05:302019-07-16T16:31:50.584+05:30Watching a movie<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Watching a movie together<br />
laughing at shared jokes<br />
reminiscing of old times<br />
dozing off, waking up<br />
to realize that we dozed off<br />
at the exact same moment<br />
in the movie timeline.<br />
and discussing,<br />
What an amazing movie it was!<br />
<br />
On hindsight, I realize,<br />
It was not the movie..<br />
It was you!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-59730781738444492382019-07-15T01:41:00.002+05:302019-07-15T01:41:53.315+05:30Missing someone<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"Looks like he missed you a lot..", she says.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It leaves me puzzled. I never sensed that behind that beautiful smile, or that childish indifference in his replies.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"He told me he couldn't talk to you one day. That the time difference was an issue, and he couldn't talk to you. I think he missed you."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It made me sad and happy at the same time. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-80697417715661747642019-06-29T02:45:00.001+05:302019-06-29T02:47:02.599+05:30Pain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Pain conditions you<br />
in ways unknown<br />
It is a mirror<br />
to self and<br />
to others' suffering<br />
A key<br />
to others' thoughts<br />
<br />
Pain conditions you,<br />
For when Pain<br />
becomes a Path<br />
you do not want<br />
others to walk on,<br />
It becomes..<br />
A Path<br />
to betterment!</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-35988873453701725472019-06-11T11:03:00.003+05:302019-06-11T11:08:03.604+05:30Words!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A volcano of words<br />
welling up to erupt..<br />
<br />
Words waiting<br />
to embrace sound<br />
<br />
Words waiting<br />
for a smile, a frown<br />
<br />
Words swelling up<br />
as ocean wave<br />
on high moon's tide<br />
<br />
Words waiting<br />
for that familiar face<br />
<br />
Words waiting<br />
for the next words<br />
to chain a conversation<br />
<br />
Words waiting<br />
for acceptance.</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-52072737148792369042018-02-21T00:03:00.002+05:302018-02-21T00:03:25.273+05:30Here Again.. Why I must continue to write<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Why must I continue to write? Well, sometimes it is better than verbal diarrhea.. as my colleague would refer to my constant nonsensical ramblings..<br />
<br />
But sad jokes apart, I must continue to write for I must not lose myself. I must continue to write so I do not look back at regret for not honing what could have been a sliver of a talent. I must continue to write for I too have a voice.<br />
<br />
When I started blogging years back, social media was not big, blogs were. I spent hours and hours reading blogs via RSS feeds. Times change.<br />
<br />
As I always say, What for is the written word, if there is none to read it?<br />
<br />
Doesn't matter.. It's a nice secluded spot to pen down your thoughts.. to be yourself!!<br />
<br />
Readership or not, I hope I never lose my voice!<br />
<br />
As a busy working mom of two, trying my best, searching the answer for work-life balance, constant updates of one's life is a thing of past.<br />
<br />
I realized I have totally stopped writing what I called poetry. Where are the words? Hmm.. scary!!<br />
<br />
When was the last time I sat down with a book? When I sprained my ankle and couldn't walk for three days..<br />
<br />
Yes, write I must. :)</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-17197091101849223422016-07-25T23:35:00.000+05:302016-07-25T23:35:08.940+05:30Child<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You can take away my toys <br />
and make me wear a suit<br />
<br />
You can take away my joy<br />
and make me wear a frown<br />
<br />
You can take away my freedom<br />
and make me wear a mask<br />
<br />
You can try to kill my spirit<br />
and it may weight me down a while<br />
<br />
But you can't take away the child in me,<br />
the little child who forgets <br />
and finds a reason to smile<br />
<br />
</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-62303304708824535042015-01-15T10:44:00.003+05:302015-01-15T10:44:56.979+05:30Colleagues<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What are you to me?<u></u><u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What am I to you?<u></u><u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Strangers travelling together<u></u><u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Friends as long as journey lasts<u></u><u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then mirages dissolving with time<u></u><u></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-75368505204189976582014-09-22T12:41:00.000+05:302014-09-22T12:41:18.514+05:30Boy child<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I leave to work. I see you playing next door. I call out to you to say goodbye. You say bye and I turn away , for time waits for none, and , well, there is so much to be done. But then I hear you calling me hurriedly. I stop and turn back, nothing can be more important than you. I anticipate you to show me some funny new trick, or some brave new trick. Instead you are running towards me. You climb over the wall, and jump into my arms. And as all your friends are watching, you hug me, and gracefully accept that peck on your cheek that you came to receive.And you make me realize, at 6 years old, how you are still my little boy child!<br />
<br />
I realize how nothing could ever be more important than this. That no matter how much you grow up, you will still be my child!</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-35095307793546282442014-09-08T13:02:00.002+05:302014-09-08T13:02:40.204+05:30A year in a few words<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I haven't even visited my own blog for so long. It's been busy busy year of being mom of two kids. The good news is that I know I am through the toughest year as a working mom.<br />
<br />
Been through my set of ups and downs. Been emotional struggle of balancing two kids. Been through grief of learning that my mom had cancer. It was stage two, and she is in the fag end of her treatment. As always felt hope and had faith.<br />
<br />
Been through the tough two months of exclusively breastfeeding younger one and working, and also managing to take care of elder one.<br />
<br />
Been through learning that I cant do it all on my own, and letting others help me. And at times, summoning up the courage to ask for help as well.<br />
<br />
Been through sibling rivalry , and now Sanjay beginning to love his little brother, well, a little bit.<br />
<br />
It's been eventful, to say the least!!</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-26485442289188865482013-11-05T14:40:00.001+05:302013-11-05T14:40:23.119+05:30And we make progress..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I don't know about others, but for me finding motivation within myself is quite difficult. Sometimes I do. Like the day Koushik was born, and he was in NICU, I cried. And then the physiotherapist walked in and told me of exercises to do, and then I began to practice them, so when the baby came along, I would have the strength to feed him. And then here I stand at the end of my maternity leave, I would have given up or relaxed on my plans of exclusive breastfeeding, but for my friend.<br />
<br />
I got a one month extension for maternity leave. And then when baby is 4 months old, in December , I have to get back to work. For my first son, I managed to get leave with and without pay for 6 months. but now I just have to get back. I have a friend and former colleague. I know she managed to exclusively breastfeed her baby for 2 months after joining full time work. And so I told myself , if she can do it, I can too. She was actually getting back from divorce at that time, and tough as that might have been, she didn't find that a reason, to no do the best for her baby. I always tell her, she is a very good mom.<br />
<br />
And please don't get me wrong. As a mother of two, I have learnt not to judge other mothers. we do the best in our given scenarios, and if you choose to supplement your baby's feed, you probably have a reason. The pediatrician for my elder son was so adamant that I must exclusively breastfeed my baby for the first six months, and I have seen Sanjay get a terrible cough, when I tried giving him cow's milk when he was 5 months old, fearing I may not get a leave extension - that I will try my best to exclusively breastfeed this baby till he is at least 5 and a half months old. That's the plan for now.<br />
<br />
So I get back to work on Dec 2. I am excited about it, but I am sure I will miss the little fellow. but he is in good hands, so I wouldn't need to worry.<br />
<br />
and why do I say all this, so some mother looking for motivation finds this a little useful. :)</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-30959525655252181632013-10-21T21:10:00.000+05:302013-10-21T21:10:15.686+05:30Story so far..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Koushik’s birthday was a dramatic one. I wondered before I
got myself admitted to the hospital if I would cry this time, when they showed
me my baby. I cried for joy when sanju was born. I had become a mother and the
joy was overwhelming. The surgeons asked me if I felt any pain, I didn’t reply
, and my gyneac, a lady, understood and said “she must be emotional”.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This time when I saw koushik for the first I cried too, only
they werent tears of happiness. The first time, I laid my eyes on Koushik, he
was in an incubator and it pained my heart to see him that way. Nothing scary
though, he didn’t breathe as soon as he was born and they had to resuscitate
him, and he was in NICU till his breathing steadied down. But it was the
toughest day of my life. I cried and cried, for the fact that my baby was not
near me. The image of him in that incubator, searching vainly, for nursing,
pained me so much. He was on drips, and they allowed me to feed him, only after
they were sure his breathing steadied, and then after 12 hours in NICU, my
little miracle was handed to me. It took a while for me for to forget that
sadness. But all is well that ends well. Hes fine now and that’s all that
matters. Thanks to God and to the doctors. It’s not a big deal, the doctors
say, but for me it was. Phew!</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And I have been making progress as mom of two. My sis gave
me this advice, she said, after two kids, one cannot hope to spend exclusive
time with each kid. And that sort of eased me. Well, it’s not all rosy yet.
Some days, I feel like a failure as a mom, like when Koushik’s weight gain
wasn’t as much as I expected it to be, and the same day Sanjay comes home with
1/25 on maths, and I feel I have failed both of them. And then there are days
like today , when Koushik’s infection seems to have gotten better, and sanju studies
a wee bit more and watches a wee bit less TV. I take it one day at a time.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The current pressing concern is extension of maternity
leave. I believe in exclusive brest feeding for the first 6 months, so I am
wondering what to do. But taking everything one day at a time. Hoping for the
best.</span></div>
</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-13180369436114017442013-10-15T09:52:00.003+05:302013-10-15T09:52:58.654+05:30Mommy twice over<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I delivered a baby boy on august 3. I have been super busy since then, dealing with all kinds of emotions. I think I had some sort of post partum depression.. I cried when I came home from hospital with Sanjay and I felt a little depressed this time too. May be it was the fact that Sanjay was not with me for one month. I am staying at my mom's place, and Sanjay stayed back with my Mother in law. But all is well now. I have been busy learning to be a mom to two kids , and doing justice to it. I have been getting on mode to get back to work(getting my hands on things other than baby things that is...), though I plan to stay home till baby is 5 months old. I got a new laptop, and net connection at my mom's place, where I will be staying till baby Koushik is six months old. :)<br />
<br />
Koushik's birth story would warrant a post by itself and I would do it once I find some time. hopefully I will be more regular here.<br />
<br />
hope everyone is doing well. :)<br />
<br />
</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-1203342789566837582013-05-15T13:08:00.003+05:302013-05-15T13:08:55.537+05:30Today!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So I pull out the new outfit just my husband recently got me. My mother looks at me, and says, in what has become characteristic of her, “Why are you wearing the new dress today?”<br />
<br />
<br />
Her point being, why spoil all new clothes, keep them for a special occasion.( I am staying at my mom’s place the whole of May, and I go back to my husband’s house in June.)<br />
<br />
I tell here, nonchalantly, “Because, it’s my birthday today.”<br />
<br />
When your parents forget your birthday, you realize, you have become really old! Sigh!<br />
<br />
And then my parents rushed to wish me, gave a gift (what else but cash).<br />
<br />
I am 30 years old today. I was excited about it, but then today is just another day. Kid is going for his first trip without me or the husband, and it would have been the perfect day for us to hang out. I wanted to catch a late night movie..<br />
<br />
But well, I have the case of low-lying placenta again, and I really don’t want to do any roaming around. But it’s fine.<br />
<br />
I am wearing new outfit shaped like a tent, airy and roomy. Friends still remember me and wish me. Sis speaks to me to wish me after a major fight. Job’s going fine.<br />
<br />
Next birthday, I will be on the wrong side of 30, but on the right side of life. I would have settled in to a life with two children, and hopefully manage it well and fine.<br />
<br />
Thank God for the blessings and the opportunities.<br />
<br />
PS: And this blog is 8 years old! :)</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-16266190295253536562013-04-30T19:05:00.001+05:302013-04-30T19:05:28.500+05:30Running Away<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ever felt the need to run away? Sometimes, when I am pushed to a corner, frustrated, irritated, when my efforts go waste, when I choose not be honest and have to face the consequences, and am judged for one mistake than for the million good things I do, and I could go on.. But there are so many times, when I feel like just running away from it all.<br />
<br />
I just picture myself, getting up and screaming and waving my hands randomly and running away, just like that, to some place I do not know. <br />
I picture that, and it makes me smile, the image of me running like that.. and even more funny to think of other people's reaction..<br />
<br />
and then I think of the life I have painstakingly(Ahem!) built .. all that I hold dear, right till my job.. and I know that this too shall pass, and that I would have learnt a valuable lesson, I will carry for life.. and All will be well at the end!</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-19995025459526624242013-04-29T17:54:00.001+05:302013-04-29T17:58:39.513+05:30Cleaning, Memories and Change<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We are cleaning our house. We are going to have it painted, and have been clearing out stuff.. in the process come out lots and lots of sutff that we don't need and memories. And some of them have to be discarded. I don't do it with a heavy heart, for with age, and a certain sense of contentment, comes the maturity to accept that change is the only constant thing in life.<br />
<br />
I do not hoard much, except for some of my clothes that are in good condition, but don't fit me. I keep those in hope that I will reduce some day, and I have been able to get into a few of them, mind you, just a few, the rest are passed on to my sister, who is eternally thin..<br />
<br />
So I didn't keep any of Sanjay's baby clothes. They were not thrown out, but were merely given away to other children. While cleaning, I happened upon few baby clothes that I still had, I was happy. I wanted the baby to wear some of Sanjay's old clothes. It may seem weird for cultures, where babies wear new stuff, but for most of us Indians, babies start out by wearing hand-me-downs from other well children. Sort of a belief, and I am glad that my baby gets to wear some of Sanjay's stuff.<br />
<br />
I will wash them and keep them safe for when my baby arrives. I show Sanjay that these are the clothes that he wore as a baby, and he looks at one nappy and asks me if he can make the baby wear it. I say yes, and smile.<br />
<br />
I look at all cute girl baby stuff and wish for a girl, but I am sure , when I am through with my delivery, all I will care to ask is if the baby is well. :)</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-46292017603113212102013-04-20T07:22:00.002+05:302013-04-20T07:22:19.187+05:30Accomplishment<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I can move mountains,<br />
scale great heights,<br />
move up with brilliance,<br />
do well, earn respect.<br />
<br />
I love my work,<br />
on most days,<br />
and I could,<br />
Shine like a star some day..<br />
<br />
But if in this lifetime,<br />
I don't do any of that<br />
But bring you joy everyday,<br />
It would suffice<br />
<br /><br />
</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-17524407041512309412013-04-16T15:14:00.003+05:302013-04-16T15:14:39.313+05:30On walking down the staircase on a dark night<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
You hold my hand tight,<br />
<br />
and guide me as we walk down<br />
<br />
the staircase<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You instruct me <br />
<br />
to hold on to railings<br />
<br />
to step slowly,<br />
<br />
one step at a time<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You know my special situation,<br />
<br />
and I sense the pride in your voice,<br />
<br />
you feel so grown up,<br />
<br />
to guide your mom.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I play along,<br />
<br />watching your every step!</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-29213593458053015912013-04-16T15:04:00.002+05:302013-04-16T15:04:26.891+05:30Life, beautiful Life!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Life, beautiful Life,<br />
with all it's despair,<br />
<br />
and sadness and pain,<br />
<br />
is still worth living.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
For it would be so sad,<br />
<br />
to waste this beauty of breath,<br />
<br />
breathing life, breathing thought,<br />
<br />
breathing love, breathing hope<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Life, beautiful Life,<br />
<br />
with all the misery,<br />
<br />
with all the terrible terrible loss,<br />
<br />
is still worth living<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
For it doesn't stop,<br />
<br />
for you or for me,<br />
<br />
it goes on,<br />
<br />
nudging you to move on,<br />
<br />
to LIVE life..<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
For each day is a blessing,<br />
<br />
in which much can be done,<br />
<br />
When there is hope,<br />
<br />
and effort,<br />
<br />
Show me one, anyone,<br />
<br />
Who can stop you!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
That is the beauty of Life.<br />
<br />
Life, beautiful Life!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
PS: Always the optimist, I can never think of a reason to never go on. Once saw an interview of old people waiting at a holy place for death. It gives them Moksha apparently. but how sad is that life? For no matter how old you are, your life, your breath in itself is a gift. And there's something you can do with it.<br />
<br />
Also inspired by reading review of the movie Saraansh. :)<br />
</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12869381.post-39107845433734231262013-04-03T16:39:00.000+05:302013-04-03T16:39:44.844+05:30Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am in love with you<br />
<br />
<br />
with everything you do<br />
<br />
Yet sometimes, <br />
<br />
I get very mad at you,<br />
<br />
and even more mad at myself,<br />
<br />
for being mad at you..<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I cry when you don't watch,<br />
<br />
tears stolen from you.<br />
<br />
At times, I look at you,<br />
<br />
with wide eyed wonder..<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I steal time from life,<br />
<br />
and memories from time,<br />
<br />
and watch you over and over again<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I recall our talks,<br />
<br />
our jokes, and the play,<br />
<br />
and the laughter..<br />
<br />
and feel like I were,<br />
<br />
floating amongst clouds<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It's amazing how much more you give me,<br />
<br />
than I could ever give you<br />
<br />
And I'm in love with you.<br />
<br />
PS: Love of a Mother!
PPS: I am all poetic today. Inspiration, the Lukka Chuppi song</div>
monuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16778024859373563303noreply@blogger.com1