To My Dear Daughter

To my dear daughter,

As you grow, many boys will enter your years. They will speak words of love and passion, of wanting you–all of you.
Their sex will be lacking.

Believe me, dear girl, I know what crazy hot lovemaking is made of. Until the boy can assure you of the following, it is not true passion.

If he can patiently wait for over three years. From pregnant to nursing to pregnant to nursing, with your hormones fierce, and desire often dead. “Please, just let me sleep. I am so tired.” will be your common response. Until he can love you still, choose you still, it is not true passion.

If He can call you beautiful when even your feet are swollen from baby belly. Call you sexy when your legs run thick with varicose veins from the same. Call you perfect after your belly hangs loose with skin and your eyes deep with bags. Until he can still call you these things, it is not true passion.

You may throw things at him, yell words of hate and shame as you feel the hormones of post baby blues run deep. Until he can love you even deeper, piercing through the pain into your heart, it is not true passion.

He will go to work where there are other women, pretty women. Pretty women with no children and varicose free, high heeled legs. I know the way they toss their pretty little hair to and fro.

He will come home to you, your hair pulled back into the frizziest of buns, a baby on your hip, spit up down your arm. Until he can come home to you–you with no makeup–and express there is nothing as wonderful as seeing your face, it is not true passion.

You are touched by his love, and whisper tonight you will return the favor. Tonight there is a crying baby and a feverish toddler who just joined you in bed. Until he can laugh, fully laugh about this, it is not true passion.

Can a man like this exist? Yes, dear girl, and you call him your dad. He has shown me what true love is.

The hormones have faded. I am not pregnant. I am not nursing. My own passion has returned. Can I truly say “returned?” I really had no idea what passion was. So intense, so raw, I cannot put it fully into words.

I am not in love with just another man. I am in love with the father of my babies. The one who called me beautiful through nights of ugly, called me strong through days of weak, called me valuable through days of uncertainty. The one who waited patiently for me. Who washed the sheets of vomit as I bathed the fever infested child.

This is love dear girl. This is passion. It is being one with he who is going to be there for you, till death do you part, regardless. It is something mystical and unexplainable. It is something crazy. It is crazy hot sex.

Wait dear girl. Wait for him. There is nothing so beautiful as finding your heart in his, the one who will wait for you–even after marriage.

Love,
Mom
(Source: Web)

The Walks Of Life

A long walk in the beach made me realize the different moods of the sea. At a certain phase the waves were so nice as it was simply wetting my feet and calmly going back to the womb of the sea. The breeze from the face of the sea was a soothing effect to my mind as well as my soul. I thought of a poem by Sarojini Naidu, 'Coromandel Fishers' (http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/coromandel-fishers/).

Slowly the breeze turned to a wind making the waves play to its tunes taking them a little more higher. The waters rushing in was not only wetting my feet, but my legs too. The water going back to the sea didn't have the energy to push me down or pull me into the waters. The feel of wind in my face had my thoughts diverted out to the waves whose count was steadily increasing.

The wind no more intended to quiet down, but started bringing in huge waves. My loved ones joined me and the fun increased as we started tumbling on each other and falling into water yet we are firmly on the ground and not slipping into the deep waters. We were bathed in the salty waters and the sunset leaving us laughing and playing and pulling and pushing each other. This simply reminded me the childhood days...:-)

I returned back to my refuge but there is yet another face of sea that I didn't see but I am well aware of it. The rough sea which certainly leaves everything in shatters. It makes the fishermen, the people living on the coast, the admirers of the Sea Lady etc. move out from the proximity of its anger. The sea no longer cares about the limits assigned to it. Tsunami is the worst , the sea can give destruction from its side.

In the twilight, the walk reminded me the Chapters of Life. The ups and downs of life... a simple roller coaster ride. When the circle of life is seen, the ups and downs are simply to balance the life for a straight line. At a point the sea meets the sky from where the sun arises the next day or the sun has just set in today. Life is indeed beautiful!!!!!!

A Lifetime of Togetherness

The rose never knew the pain
The thorn was undergoing.
The thorn knew it had to suffer
If it to keep the rose safe.

The rose dazzled in the sun
The dew on petals was equally tantalizing.
The thorn was so proud of itself
That it was guarding such a beautiful creation.

Both did experience very bad times
Few plucking hands, few eating mouths,
But both survived all the trials
And they were standing out among the lot.

Pain the thorn was going thru’
How hurting it is when others are hurt
And the hurt is because of oneself
But it couldn’t be help too.

But the dusk was not pleasant as the dawn
Both felt the journey being together is gonna end.
The evening took its toll on the pair
The gardener pruned the branch off.

The rose felt everything ended,
The thorn felt it hadn’t fulfilled its purpose.
But then the evening looked most glamorous
Both were neatly snuggled in a bride's bouquet.

A Nostalgic Poem

Though it has been years leaving the school, there are times I remember those benches, the playgrounds, the laughs, the fights, the lunch hrs etc etc etc. The list just goes on.

One particular thing I remember is a poem from the 4th Std Hindi text, Hum Panchi Unmukt Gagan Ke. We were asked to by heart this poem and repeat it in the next class. So as told we obeyed. Teacher explained the meaning of the poem in the view of a bird. How a free bird is seeking for the freedom though its in a golden cage. The poem was learnt, by-hearted and forgotten.

But passing through years when I remember this poem I still am able to recall the lines with out any errors. But the meaning of the poem has changed from what was explained to us in the class rooms. My teacher knew that some day the real meaning of the poem will be understood by the children who learnt it and who remember the same. Today as I relax and think, its true. Many times I think, though the responsibilities are nice and the joy given by the same is good still some where down the heart I wish for a fly in the open sky. The little is better with joy than be surrounded by more of unhealthy competition. Don’t wanna go into much depth of the meanings. I just paste the copy of the poem in this blog for a change:

Hum panchi unmukt gagan ke,
Pinjar bandh na gaa payenge,
Kanak teeliyon se takrakar,
Pulkit pankh toot jayenge

Hum behta jal peene wale,
Mar jayenge bhooke pyase,
Kahin bhali hai katuk nimbori,
Kanak katori ki maida se

Svarn Shrankhla ke bandhan mein,
Apni gati udaan sab bhoole,
Bas sapno mein dekh rahe hain,
Taru ki phungi, par ke jhoole

Aise the armaan ki udte,
Neel gagan ki seema paane,
Laal kiran si chonch khol,
Chugte tarak, anaar ke daane

Hoti seema heen shithij se,
Inn pankho ki hoda hodi,
Yha tho shithij milan ban jata,
Yha tanti sanso ki dori

Need na do, chahe thehani ka,
Aashray chhinn-bhhinn kar dalo,
lekin pankh diye hain tho,
Aakul udaan mein vighn na daalo

By ShivMangal Singh Suman

Indeed a nostalgic poem......

The Great Indian Dream

The mascara to hide the lines of an aging face
The thinned tarred road to cover the pot-holes
The bundle of Roses to hide the number of late hours
The chocolates to make up the lost time with a child

How long will the mankind do to cover its mistakes from each other? An easy compensation to curtain the mistakes or short comings or a cover-up for the faults committed for the selfish gains. These provide a temporary relief to the person accepting the same but in a long haul the texture of the same is lost.

As the lines go, these are like building a glass house which ultimately will break down and everything will lie bare and naked. Man should learn from his mistakes...this line has just become an old saying which sounds good in the books. Time and again he does the same mistake thinking that at least one time he shall surely get for what he had been committing these mistakes. But alas, he still stands in the same position with no difference but more guilt and sorry for himself.

The rains come and wash the mascara off to show the lines that were the years wasted achieving the momentary happiness. The roads are still bumpy, which was tarred for a jolly good ride, but the ride is not smooth as it was suppose to be. His own child has grown fast enough for not understanding the momentary happiness which he has gathered over years. The reality will finally sink and will crush the man and he will wake up the world of loneliness......