Raaha

As cotton weaves its magic,

a smile is stitched with each thread.

And the borders are all lit-

colours of traditions spread.

How graceful she is when draped,

and flows like musical notes.

Her designs don soulful shapes

of passion and fashion coats.

She is Raaha for all age-

emblazons our heritage.

My Little Thinker Twenty Two

How fast these years have sailed

waltzing and riding each wave-

from the time when she first wailed-

unaware what joy that gave.

Now, she speaks with twinkling eyes

which are ever so agile.

Gobbles up chocolates and ice,

and hides the mischievous smile.

She has a soul pure and true-

little thinker twenty two.

Pappaji (1938-2018)

These last years that he lived
just to see her walk around.
Her word was all he believed-
which to him was love abound.
He often called out her name
with such mischievous romance.
Wish were their memories framed
to watch them flicker and dance

And now they both smile from miles-              

living in their world erstwhile.

Brave / Strong

I’m not brave so much as I appear
nor can put on a face when tears roll.
Heart wrenching it is the unknown fear
for misgivings deceive the poor soul.
But when fate flips the cards on the table-
it ends the drama of whimsical twirls.
Then some power makes me strong and able-
steers this mind-wheel of the emotional swirl.
The brave dare the anxieties of this play,
and they ebb not presaging the outcome.
The strong bear but find the will and a way-
unruffled they stand as others succumb.
I’m not brave because I lack courage.
But I’m getting stronger as I age. 

Mummy (1937- 2018)

There is a soft mist in my eyes today
that blurs my vision but not her image.
She is somewhere near though far away-
talking in my thoughts quoting her adage.
Come weekend, and my phone would promptly buzz-
her Friday-call for our ritual dinner.
What would I like to eat ? - she would ask and fuss,
then wait for me with ado and eager.
But now she is gone, and I sit and wait-
her absence so abrupt with least fanfare.
I ask her - couldn’t you have left little late? -
But the time comes soon though appears unfair.
I miss her laughter and spiced-up gossips.
She smiles from beyond as the red sun dips.

Bizarro

She treads the path that few take,

walking miles for a just cause.
She braves the odds and the aches-
undeterred without a pause.
Strong-willed of whimsical mind,
but heart melts to others’ griefs.
A woman one of a kind
who stands up for her beliefs.
She is more a friend than wife

I would want in every life.

Postcard

On my birthday each year,

he would send me a postcard.

Tiny yellow souvenir

of love, wishes and regards.

For as long as I recall,

my day began with his post.

Red- penned in his usual scrawl

would be the ritual toast.

Now his image stamped, impressed -

blessings from a new address.