Creeper

Near my home is a building 

Unfinished. 

Slowly rotting , ruined.

An ugly sight, a reminder of dreams

Promised

Unhonoured. Never fulfilled.

We have covered it up with sheets

Neat. Perfect

Hidden from the eyes

We go about our lives. Leaving it

Unseen. Unloved.

Not caring that it grows wild

There is a creeper growing.

Zesty. Strong. 

It fears not for life or love

It keeps twisting around the ruin

Feeding. Growing

A beautiful messy wild shrub

The creeper is healthy, strong. 

Climbing

Wrapped over the ruins and more

It's climbing slow and steady 

With stealth

Towards chaos, furore

It's peeking over the covers now

Curious. Naughty

A life grown from the dead

Tired of being a part of the ruin

Hidden. Forgotten.

It's ready to be loved instead

Remembering Ms. Puri

When I was in grade 6, I was blessed to get Ms. Puri as my english teacher. The very first day Puri ma'am was horrified that my h and n and b and d and p and and q all had same tiny length of the standing line !!! Oh my ! How upset she was. I remember her threatening me with a 'lappad' if I did not make those standing lines longer and uniform. She was relentless in her pursuit to improve my English handwriting. Surprisingly, I didn't resent this meddling, in fact I started working towards improving my letters. She used to sit in the ground floor staff room beside the headmistress' room. Everytime I would visit the staffroom to drop some notebooks or pick up some, she would make it a point to ask me 'Piyu, how is the handwriting practice going?' She took individual interest in my mental health and well-being at a time when these words were not fancy social media terms.

In 1997, just about to pass out of school, one of my poems ' My dear old Lady Irwin' got published in the school magazine. That afternoon during break, I was on duty to send the middle schoolers back into their classrooms. As I was running around middle school, rounding up the kids, Ms. Puri came walking towards me with the copy of the school magazine open to the page with my poem. 

'Piyu, how are you my child ?' She had bent a little with age. I was taller than her now. ' I am doing fine ma'am' I replied with a smile. (I was still in awe of her.) 'So , how is the handwriting practice going?' She asked with a smile. ' Fine ma'am. Thanks to you'. 'You wrote a beautiful poem Piyu. I am so proud of you!' She said with her eyes moist. I touched her feet to say thanks. My eyes teared up too. 

That's the last time I met and spoke to Ms. Puri. Life got busy after school and I regret that I never took time out to meet ma'am. I have had a neat and beautiful handwriting ever since Ms Puri made me practice. Everytime I am praised for my lettering, I send out a thank you to the universe for bringing Ms. Puri into my life.

The Mood Algorithm

 The watch on my wrist

measures the heartrate

and stress. 

It calculates my mood

algorithmically.

The dial glows green today.

A smiley emoji,

'Low stress' it says.

It's a Monday

A new week dawns with

new possibilities.

The brain refuses the score.

Am I fine ? It asks

Where is the worry then?

and the whine ?

The constants have become

a part of normal score?

The heart smiles

This happy emoji, this low stress score

It's a fool's paradise.

But paradise none the less !

The Laughter Show

People are waiting for the laughter show to start

Edgy, impatient 

Looking at the closed doors of the auditorium

People are out here to laugh

Snort, Shake

Silently let out all anxieties in the funny forum

Yet they wait with eyes glued to screens

Frowning, silent

Waiting for a release which can come to them with ease

Wish people would look up and around

Smile, Slow down

It's easy as easy can be, to replace the frown :) 

That Afternoon

 

* Butterflies and bees buzzing somewhere.

* Faking the calm with nonchalance.

* Colours, and the audacity to carry them with style.

* Eyes disappearing with smiles.

* Long fingers which fold over the upper lip.

* Eyes poring, right into the soul

* A glass of water sipped slowly.

* Humour laced with depth

* Or sarcasm laced with humour.

* Words spoken and unspoken.

* Thoughts going deeper than surface.

* Knowing more than showing.

* A simple ‘I know’

* Afternoons warm yet chilly.

* Wanting to leave and wanting to stay.

* Block and unblock.

* Hold it in and then say it all.

* The helplessness, the hopefulness.

* The dejection, the anger, the gratitude, the heartbreak.

* Overwhelming guilt. Yours. Mine. 

* The pull, and sheer loss of control.

* Desperation on things out of control.

* Normal, going back to routine.

* A whirlpool hidden under thin ice.

 

Just one afternoon……….. a timeline full of emotions.

The nights have been freezing ever since *****