Posted in People, Poem

Grandpa’s Hugs Are Now A Bit More Warm

Source: Unknown

He is tall but used to be taller
Weighed down by responsibilities, shrunken with age
His ego has now ebbed away as he brims with pride-
Ah! Those grand children and their glories he cannot stop talking about or may be try and hide.

Done with his fair share of responsibilities
Still anxious to make his children and grandchildren succeed
He wishes to see their next conquest and subtly even great grand children.
Passing on the tradition from one generation to another-
He aims to keep the lineage pure
But embraces the changing times with a clear scoff.
Stubborn just as am I, we know he is kind
He is made of experience and days that were a little too harsh.

In turn of events life played the inevitable turncoat-
Left him alone with people he loved
Each day he silently sheds a tear-
As his wife who rested her head on his chest now rests in peace.
He is strong but used to be stronger
Calmness harboured by him-
I hope it never reaches stillness
Now he scolds a little less and hugs a little longer
My Grandpa’s hugs are now warmer.

Posted in Doodles, Experience, Poem

The House In The Village

After years of dodging; every occasion with a more bitter excuse
Finally came a day when somehow the visit just couldn’t be refused
From far away, that house in village stood still and tall
Now haunted with lifelessness
On inside did it suddenly grow small?
Or was it the memory of it that brimmed with grandeur?
The windows creak
The walls reek
Spiders smile weaving a trap of nostalgia
The garden once full of roses and lemons is now musty;
Haunted by emptiness somehow braved through my grandmother’s beliefs-
Evident by the statue of Shiva I remembered since I could remember;
Survived lessons from my cousins teaching me to play games-
While I stood there being timid, young and shy.

Monkeys in the yard
My aunt’s smirky remarks
Talking to uncles altogether a hurdle-
I knew I never would fit in there,
Now affirmed.
Yet the lullaby from past lingered longer
Singing to me of a wish why did I let go so easy-
So early at an age so tender!
Alas! Now it is too late to return
Only reminscence, what hath been done cannot be undone.

Posted in Experience, People, Poem

My Grandma Is Now Old

Painting: The sitting woman by Rabindranath Tagore

Watercolor and ink on paper

National Gallery of Modern Art, Delhi

Whilst I write these words down- I am tired
But not half much as her.
As this thought stops by- I quiver
But nothing near her de-morphing shivers.
Her skin is now pale
Colours of youth long gone
Her experiences now shrunk to creases manifold
Each wrinkle has a story-
A few narrated; Many left untold.
I look at her tiny stature-
Barely walking; And wobbling more
That is when I realise my grandma is now old.
After years of delayed meetings
I might be here just in time
Scared and terrified charred by generation gap
A victim of brutal awkwardness
I stood there to realise that my grandma is now old.
Her glasses are heavier than emotions she carries
Her eyes- now they glitter no more
Her hunch rests as a heroic mark of responsibilities she took care of,
As I glance at her toothless mouth
Her mummed lips curl to become a smile
That is when all my uproaring torments die a silent death
And I know she shall nurture always
Yes, my grandma is now old
But her aura is enough to uphold all our souls.