It is easy to say that time flies. It is still easier to say that we wish it to stop sometimes. But, it is way harder to be in the present and still give the warmth of the limitless love to your child, who you see growing before you. But, it does feel like it was yesterday that she was born to us. Spruha turns 3 today.
Shambhavi and I envy each other for playing gopikas that compete for the love of Krishna. Just that the roles are reversed in this case: Spruha is Lord Krishna, we are the gopikas. From the tiny pink fist that wrapped around my thumb for the first time to the everyday hug that I receive when she sprints toward me as I get back home after work, there is so much more to this story than I can ever share. Here’s that poem for Spruha:
The silence in my speech was Recognized by many. But, she could recognize The speech within my silence.
Each day, the sunrise sprinkled the magic Of beaming glory through countless windows. The happiness that gleamed to me was However, from those sparkling eyes.
What contrast lies between Her and I. For she is happy with even broken toys. And the pains of a broken heart Are visibly excruciating to my eyes.
I was amused, for what I had mused
Was either horribly bad or terribly wrong.
Then it dawned on me that Bad Writing is a rite
For the Good Writing to come just right.
I was devastated, for my thoughts were void.
Was that block my departure from my being?
Then it dawned on me that I mustn’t quit;
For it to pass, I must unconditionally submit.
I was clueless, for I had lost directions.
Were things leading me into the unknown?
Then it dawned on me that I mustn’t disgruntle.
I must ask questions. Seek answers. Rediscover.
I was seeking to rekindle imagination.
To cover more than covered, to rediscover that fire.
Then, it dawned on me that I mustn’t rekindle,
Smoldering afterthoughts sometimes bear more than fancied pyre.
Gogyohka, pronounced GO-GEE-YO-KUH, is a Japenese form of five-line micropoetry that—unlike Haiku or Senryu—doesn’t rest on the principle of the number of syllables. It relies on your power of speaking directly.
Senryū is a form of micropoetry that contains 17 or lesser syllables spread across not more than three lines. Although this attempt isn’t driven by humor, Senryu mostly is used to describe the human aspect on a lighter note.
Dressed mostly in black and white,
I am just another wandering cloud,
I am, sometimes, wild within,
And wild sometimes without.
I am that wandering cloud, my friend,
Who brought with it memories,
Some real, some inexistent.
For lovers and haters, alike
For adults and children, alike.
Making everyone feel empty yet content.
I am that wandering cloud,
Dear Sparrow, don’t worry;
For my poor existence is subject to a flurry.
When I shower blessings divine,
Really will the sprouts entwine
To offer a cushion to your babies
Helping them with cozy draperies.
I am that wandering cloud
O Soul, the resolute.
You can’t keep me under siege,
For I remain a roamer,
Acting upon my will.
A few things, like my soul,
Must only be felt with
And, not be dealt with.
But, above all,
I am that wandering cloud,
O Lord, for the hands that
Sowed in despair once,
Raise up to You,
Rejoicing upon my sight,
Thanking you and making merry.
The same hands had once
Attended to the days
That brought with them
Scorching heat and light.