In the stillness of the early morning hours, the empty page stares at me. My pen is poised, ready to chart the course of the flight of my thoughts. The pristine whiteness of the page soothes my mind. Even before I have written anything, I am calm. With the process of writing I get in touch with that part of my soul which is nurtured by silence and blossoms with the light of attention.
The wheel is rotating at a breakneck pace and on it my pile of clay is dancing a merry, uncontrollable dance. I clamp my wet palms on it firmly and angrily in a futile bid to get some shape out of it. I already know that it’s a wasted effort.
I want to write something today. I want to write something using words that are fresh as the summer rain and evoke happiness and joy. Yet, try as I might, the right words elude me, whatever I write seems trite and clichéd. Is this really what I want to convey,
When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound. In fear of what my life and my children’s life may be. I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water and the great heron
She grows up listening…you are weak not strong On your own, you just won’t last long Here, hold my hand, come, take my support You have no one else, I am all that you have got Being too young, she does as she is told Always dependent…as her life does
Some people are like ladders in our life. Their very presence elevates us. They make us rise higher by giving us solid support and a leg-up. In doing so, they show us that newer and more beautiful vistas still exist and need to be explored. Their presence helps bridge chasms
I am driving my car and trying to come to terms with what I am feeling. These are alien emotions, I have never felt them before. They are a curious mix of awe, tenderness and inspiration. I have just finished a one hour art group and have been amazed with what
The absence is complete..yet the presence is palpable. It is there in the form of strewn shoes…an unmade bed…perfume lingering in the air, like a guest reluctant to leave..even the comb wants to hang on to a glossy long hair as a keepsake. Her presence is everywhere..a silent witness, it
Time is a tough guardian. It makes memories fade away like writings on sand. The freshness and excitement of a new experience, once so enchanting, dulls like the ink on prayer flags high up on the mountains. Try as one might, one cannot hold on to too much for too
Thank you dear mother for giving me life…To believe that after two boys, a girl in your family would be niceTo take that decision, so many years backWhen your two sons were already like a lively wolf pack!To plunge headlong once more, into active motherhoodKnowing that your time would be
