Tiny Shoes

I look at the pair of tiny shoes,

Warm and fluffy and yellow,

And think of the times when it adorned the feet, 

Of a sweet little fellow.

These are my little one's shoes!!

I trace the tiger’s face on them, 

And feel the glow in its eyes,

It reminds me of the scare he had, 

And thereafter, his incessant cries!

I measure his tiny shoes, 

Against the palm of my hand,

And then I look at him and realise, 

How tall he now stands.


It is in these shoes that he learnt to walk,

After falling a hundred times,

In them, he learnt to kick the ball,
And dance to melodious rhymes. 

He’d wear these shoes, play music, 

And do a cute little jig,

But time has run so quickly away, 
And my baby’s grown so big.

No matter how large his shoes become, 

No matter they take him wherever,

I know I’ll love him and hold him close,

In my heart forever.

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Written for the prompt "Tiny Shoes" as a part of the Bar-A-Thon - a - week long blogging marathon for bloggers. If you'd like to participate, or read what other bloggers have to say, visit the BAR for more details.

I'm with #Team Crimson Rush!

Caught Red-handed..

Maya sifted through the contents of the drawer, muttering something under her breath.

‘We are getting late. Hurry up, Maya. You know how bad the traffic is.’

‘Two minutes, Ravi, I can’t find my pink lipstick,’ she said now shuffling through her purse.

‘C’mon, put on something else.’

‘It’s strange Ravi, but in the past couple of months a lot of my things have been disappearing – lipsticks, earrings, even some clothes.’

‘Who can steal these things? You must have misplaced them somewhere,’ he said picking up the car keys and heading out. ‘In the car, 5 minutes, be quick.’

‘Ravi, could it be Nakku? I mean, who else is there in the house?’

 ‘’You must be out of your mind, Nakku Bai is 70 yrs old, and she’s been a trusted servant of this house for the past 3 generations. My mom never had a complaint against her. And have you ever seen her put on lipstick? She wouldn’t even fit into your clothes. C’mon hurry up now, can’t we do this later?’

‘Okay, okay, I’ll think about it in the evening. Let’s go.’

Ravi was about to start his car, when she stopped him. ‘Hey, wait, Kiran’s college fees are due today, I’ll quickly go and give him the cheque.’

Ravi made a face. ‘Quick.’

She nodded and ran into the house. ‘Nakku Maushi,’ she called out, ‘Has Kiran left for college?’

‘He was sitting here watching TV,’ said Nakku. 'I think I saw him go to his room after you went out.'

This boy, she thought, he can sit all day watch TV but not remember to collect the cheque for his fees. When will he grow up? 

Maya hurriedly wrote a cheque and scampered to Kiran’s room. Kiran was not in the room. Maya sighed. Let me ask Nakku to give this to him, she thought. Just as she turned to leave, she heard the creak of the door.

Emerging from the closet believing his parents to have left for work, was Kiran, the pink lipstick on his lips, and her blue earrings dangling from his ear. 

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Written for the prompt "Caught Red-handed" as a part of the Bar-A-Thon - a - week long blogging marathon for bloggers. If you'd like to participate, or read what other bloggers have to say, visit the BAR for more details.

I'm with #Team Crimson Rush!

Fragile lives

In to your soothing hands

I offered myself,

entrusting your heart,

to beat as one with mine,

hoping the rhythm of your body,

takes me to the altissimo

and entwines me in an enharmonic interval

before the chords explode 

into earth shattering beats

sending me into rapturous rhapsodies

and the heart into deep content,

lost in your covenant to be merged

into one, and become

ethereal and eternal.

         ****

The  percussion ceases,

even before it climaxes

the cymbals, the timpani, and the tambourine fall silent,

I watch helplessly

as the chords plummet

and fall to their deaths

a double bar silences me even before

we could

quaver and crotchet, stave and clef

the covenant shattered

the duet scattered

dreams lying in the shards

broken not by the treble

but the Judas kiss

fragile lives, with flesh and blood

lie rotting sans vehemence

and now all is still.

it is in this quietude

that I must drown

myself and

that inner voice of mine.

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Written for the prompt "Fragile lives" as a part of the Bar-A-Thon - a - week long blogging marathon for bloggers. If you'd like to participate, or read what other bloggers have to say, visit the BAR for more details.
I'm with #Team Crimson Rush!

What you don't know...

I happened to listen to this funny and yet hard hitting 1950s song written by Herb Magidson and sung by Doris Day.

You work and work for years and years 
You're always on the go 
You never take a minute off 
Too busy makin' dough 
Someday, you say, you'll have your fun 
When you're a millionaire 
Imagine all the fun you'll have 
In your old rockin' chair!

Yeah! That could be me, I remember thinking, imagining a wrinkled me sitting on the rocking chair, thinking of all that I didn’t do!

Why, it could be anyone of us, don’t you think? I have been infinitely putting off all chances of having fun. It has always been tomorrow, next time, sometime, not now… That’s all that I have been promising myself. And I’m sure that’s exactly what you have been doing too! Worrying about what you don't know,  and sometimes about what you do, but worrying nevertheless!

We haven’t given a thought to how that ’morrow will be…perhaps, err… like this?

You're so afraid that you will bite off 
More than you can chew 
don’t be afraid, you won't have teeth 
When you reach ninety-two. 

Next year for sure, you'll see the world,

You’ll really get around
but how far can you travel when

You’re six feet underground?

It made me laugh. It made me tap my feet, but then it also made me stop and take a moment to contemplate when she ends the song with,

Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy yourself 
it’s later than you think.

Indeed, it’s later than we think!What were we thinking!

So stop what you are doing for a minute. Stretch yourself, take a walk to the garden and smell the roses! Look at the sun glide down the horizon. Look at the flock of chirping birds fly homewards.

Take that road trip you have been planning to take for ages, and no, don’t let that important meeting get in the way. Imagine, if you are dead tomorrow, the meeting will still go on, perhaps the team will observe two minutes of silence in your honour!

Call your parents, spend time with your loved ones, and collect the memories. You don’t want to be left without memories tomorrow, do you? Nobody waits for your tomorrow, not time, and definitely not people.

We see people leaving the mortal world every day and yet we like to think that we are immortal, like we have been guaranteed an extended stay on this earth! What makes us think that we can postpone everything today and hope to do it “sometime later” when we have the time? How are we so sure that day will come? 

How can we base our entire life on what we don't know?

If the right time to do anything is there, it is now. So what are you waiting for? You know what to do, don’t you?

Enjoy yourself it's later than you think 
Enjoy yourself while you're still in the pink 
The years go by, as quickly as a wink 
Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy yourself 
it’s later than you think.

Listen to the song, I'm sure you'll enjoy it!

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Written for the prompt "What you don't know" as a part of the Bar-A-Thon - a - week long blogging marathon for bloggers. If you'd like to participate, or read what other bloggers have to say, visit the BAR for more details.  

I am with #Team Crimson Rush! 

Stranger than fiction!

Twelve bananas maketh a dozen, not six or nine or seven,

I wondered why, that seemed so strange, as I looked upward to heaven,

The stars told me the story of the zodiac signs, à la twelve,

The sun and moon with their twelve-hourly clock, further made me delve.

 

The Chinese, Hindus, Hebrews, Gregorians, in twelve they measure their year,

Twelve Olympian God’s and twelve Jyotirlingas, say you’ve nothing to fear.

Twelve Alwars have the Vaishnavites and Twelve Imams succeeded Muhammed,

Twelve apostles carried forth Jesus’ work, after His blood was shed,

Twelve Swarastanas in Hindustani and Carnatic, form a musical octave,

The function keys, the telephone and face cards, yeah! twelve are what they have.

Twelve pies made an Anna, twelve ounces a Troy pound,

Twelve pence made a shilling, and a foot, twelve inches long!

Twelve cranial nerves and twelve pairs of ribs, make the human body strong,

Zwölffingerdarm, as the Germans say, the intestine is twelve inches long,

Twelve’s a single-morpheme name in English, did you have a clue?

And in math, a sublime number and superfactorial too!

Ain’t all that interesting, ain’t that stranger than fiction?

Twelve Rashis are what, will make your life’s prediction!

From math to science and English, to art and God above,

Isn't it strange how everywhere, the number Twelve well behoves!

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Written for the prompt "Stranger than Fiction" as a part of the 'Bar-A-Thon' - a  week-long blogging marathon for bloggers. If you'd like to participate, or read what other bloggers have to say, visit the BAR for more details. 

 I'm with #Team Crimson Rush :)