Have any of you travelled by the NNMT buses here in Navi Mumbai? They’re surprisingly reliable, and have very comfortable benches, unlike the air-conditioned buses which have the most uncomfortable chairs. And all that noise and rattling can be pretty relaxing!
Here’s a poem for those of you who have stopped travelling by bus. Hope it brings back good memories. Continue reading
The colours that change so that dreams can take flight. Continue reading
That temple inside that helps us connect with our soul.
We don’t really need fancy buildings to worship,
Or an outwardly show of this private relationship.
Even on days that are noisy, to clear the clutter from our minds.
We need a pace of life that helps us grow,
With time to reflect, feel the light, let it flow.
‘Cos it’s the temple inside us, that helps keep us whole.
There are so many different ways of reaching the same goal. What’s the right way for each person is different. Because ones ideas, thoughts, attitudes and beliefs can give a deeper meaning and a truth to a way that is meaningless to another person.
I decided to write about this way, because it’s a way that often doesn’t get heard. A way that some follow, but few talk about.
Just one spoon of oil ‘cos it’s good for my health,
Being active and happy is my idea of wealth.
We don’t suffer famine or drought, and there’s plenty.
Unfortunately, it just adds layers to my belly. Continue reading
Feeding her son who is perfectly able,
To eat on his own. He’s almost a teen!
I wonder why it is that she just can’t see.
With a spoon in her hand and love in her heart,
This is her way of bringing him up.
For the sins of their husbands mother,
On that seventh day?
Who never took a break.
Who was an obedient daughter-in-law, who accepted without a fight. Continue reading
Don’t drive your family round the bend.
Take a rickshaw or take a cab.
Is the saving worth driving your children mad? Continue reading
But we both want to do it our way.
With love and respect for each other,
And space where we both have our say. Continue reading
I wrote the following poem many years ago, when I had 2 years of laryngitis due to the burning of garbage on the roads outside our earlier residence. It was common, so an ENT specialist had her clinic details posted on the society notice board!
Diwali, a festival of new beginnings, is the time I don’t walk down the streets. Firecrackers used to start well in advance of the festival, but this year seems better, and I’m grateful for it.
Still, roads don’t usually get cleaned immediately after Diwali here in Kharghar, and the remains of firecrackers and the strong smell is a health hazard for many. This year seems a little different and people are starting to realise that we need to change and find new, non-polluting ways to enjoy the festival. I hope this trend continues.
There’s often a strong smell of smoke in the air.
Garbage collection is not a routine,
And waste segregation still is a pipe dream. Continue reading
The footpaths where we sell our wares.
The junction is where we stop to chat,
Though the signal is green and we’re causing a jam. Continue reading
Nothing to do, nothing to do!
My poor dear wife has nothing to do!
I come home from work and the house is so clean,
She’s sitting around reading a magazine!
The food is all cooked and our ironing is done.
She looks like her day’s been a lot of fun. Continue reading
I need to go down for a walk!
But when there’s sometime and the weather is fine,
I go meet my friends and we sit down and talk. Continue reading
For all that we have got.
If we don’t pay up when it’s due,
It’s gonna cost a lot. Continue reading
It certainly holds good for me, and these shoes!
And today I’ve given in, and shown them the door.
An ode to my lovely pink shoes. I haven’t been able to get the exact same fit in this colour and am feeling quite sad about it.
When I walk past every day.
You start to wish me, with a smile in your eyes,
And I think that you’re friendly and it’s a nice surprise! Continue reading
For 20 minutes each day.
The world will not end if we eat left overs,
More than once in a way.
And we’re not there to serve you your lunch.
It’s these breaks we take and the time we make,
That help us get time before it’s too late. Continue reading
Let it stick to the base of the pot.
Then skim off the top, throw the burned part out,
And not worry about the waste, if what’s left suits my taste.
That makes the dal taste divine.
And looking away is more labour,
Because scrubbing away the burn takes time.
A message to all our visitors. It’s about the floor mat that slants diagonally across our doorway during the monsoon, kept that way so everyone has to walk over it to enter our living room.
Sometimes visitors see that it’s clean and try not to dirty it, trailing all dust and the wet from the rains into our home! The funniest is those who can’t bear to see it slant across the grid of our floor tiles and feel compelled to take the trouble to straighten it out!
This poem is for them 🙂
Wipe your feet as you enter the door.
Don’t try to save me the washing,
‘Cos all it does is increase my mopping. Continue reading
I can sing my own song, of this I am proud.
I can sign loud & clear though it might hurt your ears,
Cos I’m singing a song that’s not playing! Continue reading
I search for the empty that lets me embrace,
The busy that fills me with joy.
I listen for spaces,
For rests that give meaning,
To music that plays to the mood that I’m feeling. Continue reading
