Sunday, January 22, 2012

For Thatha

Locked away inside
is an untold story
of cheating fires
and peaceful surrender

tales lost
under folds of care
kicked aside by hurried feet
and garbled words

digging deeper
funny anecdotes
grown in black rain
breathe new life
to a wrinkled story.


How do you tell the story of a man who's never been to college yet has read Nalayira DivyaPrabhandham twice and could talk to you for hours discussing Kamba Ramayanam?
How many stories can one tell of a wonderful Grandfather who lived to tell many a funny tales to ease troubled minds yet forgot to tell the most important one of his own valour and kindness and left behind aching hearts?

You don't.

You just try to love life as he did and hope your stories are as funny as his.

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Thursday, January 19, 2012

Reading Challenges 2012

Well, because I barely have anything else on my plate and one needs to do sth for the 37 hour days I have :)
On a serious note, unless i take part in challenges I don't seem to read new genres/authors.
And a challenge makes me keep track of the books i read so I can tell my Appa that i beat him coz Appa reads like there is no tomorrow and it is hard to keep up.

Award-Winning-Books Reading Challenge hosted by Gathering Books
Aiming for Silver Medal.
South Asian Author Challenge hosted by S Krishna's Books

Will sign up for more challenges as soon as the rest of the mind gets affected by insanity!


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Monday, January 09, 2012

How it all began...

It's hard to count the number of times I have written something down here only to delete it letter by letter. Bloody backspace key. I wonder if I would do so much striking out if I were to write by pen on paper.
But darling daughter, it is always tough to write about you...to you...for you.
Somehow i feel tongue-tied and I want to run upstairs and sit by your bedside and listen to your loud breathing...just to make sure that I am not dreaming.
 That my Maya is not an illusion but mine to hold, to rock, to giggle with and at times to argue with too.


I have been wanting to write down your cute antics, the way you still say 'Siglan' and not 'signal'...the way you believe volcanoes spit smiley faces and how when you go to Africa to see one both you and the volcano will exchange spit and you'll come back with smiley faces. Seriously if I didn't hear it with my own ears, I would assume somebody was making all this up.

I love that you can always sense that I am frustrated and angry...at times I am too pig-headed to notice your charming way of making me come out of that rut. I am sorry. This year I hope to change that...mind you, i say hope, there are no guarantees. Well when 'a girl who refuses to grow up' has a daughter who is just like her, it does seems like two 4-yr olds are squabbling over a pink unicorn :)


As a young woman I carried this image of myself as this perfect mom...i have no clue what the characteristics of that 'ideal mom' is but everyday I beat myself up for not being worthy enough to wear that badge...but this past weekend changed all that.


Mayalou, I maybe a grouch at times; I might scream at you over a glass of spilt milk and send you off to your room when you grumble about my parenting skills; I might very easily get frustrated when you say 'One last question' for the millionth time and refuse to answer it;  I might make you cry by not buying those $40 sparkly shoes at the mall; I might not read you that 5th story at bed time but I know I've done good when I see you build fairy gardens and believe in magic.


Because Maya dearest, you are Magic!

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