Blest with a Bundle of Joy

Little eyes, little toes
Little fingers, little nose

So fast asleep
Oblivious to the world,
Holding fast to those dreams
In tiny fists curled.

Your chest moves up and down
Like waves upon the sand
Gentle, safe, secure,
In your dear mother's hands.

There suddenly comes a sniffle
And the cutest little yawn.
Your mother's sun settles with you
As with you, comes her dawn.

We all look on enviously
At those deliciously long lashes
As you blink open to us
And, on your face, a smile flashes.

Toothless, though it is
It brings in such delight,
So infectious, it spreads around the room
It travels faster than light!

You seem more precious than a diamond
As we gingerly pass you around
So wondrous to behold, so fragile,
So much hope, in you, abounds.

As you cuddle into our arms
We take a nice, long whiff
The most comforting fragrance in the world
And we're tempted one more sniff.

Your crown fits into the palm of my hand
As I gently sway you to sleep,
Your mother sings you your first lullaby
Drawing you into a slumber deep.

Little fingers, little toes
The sweetest dreams may you see
When your little eyes close.

Scarred

Do you have any scars?

Do you hide them?

Do you proudly tell their stories

Or do you deny them?

When they are mentioned

Do you brush their truth aside?

Would you rather pull up that collar

Than talk about something you despised?

Do the scraped elbows and bruised knees

Remind you of blissful childhood?

Or was it youthful adventure

That didn’t turn out the way you thought it would?

A glance at some of those scars and you flinch;

Yes, they were not mere grazes.

Those gashes went deep, they burned and throbbed,

Those were unforgettable phases.

Each scar has a past, a history,

That etched its mark on your present.

The tears and lesions filled in

But the emptiness they left are still unpleasant.

No matter how black and blue they look

Or hurt those memories you repressed,

Those scars will heal along with time

And maybe, someday, they'll be caressed.

Those scars are proof that you've overcome

They mean you outlived those times

They are beautiful, they are you

They deserve the spotlight, a chance to shine

The time has gone, the hurt unhurt

The wounds have healed and you've survived

The marks they've left are of your strength

Each one of them are lessons archived

Don't hide your scars no more

Put them up as laurels on your shelves

Show them off in all their grandeur,

Cause each of them have a story to tell.

This time, time will tell…

When disaster strikes or people are hurt, they console each other saying, “Time heals all wounds, give time some time, this too shall pass.” Well, that may be true, but when time itself is wounded, can you guarantee the same? Will I ever heal or be able to move on?

Created in 1887, I am part of a great architectural landmark in a Victorian influenced Gothic revival style. A silent bystander to numerous events since then, I have observed myriad kinds of people in their patience and impatience, happiness and sadness, reuniting with their loved ones or watched them leaved with bated breath while embarking on a long journey. I have been a spot of convergence for thousands of people. With just a glance I fulfil their need, so no one really gives me a second look.

One fateful night in 2008, was so gruesome that it can still make me miss a beat. Though I was disregarded as a witness, I, too, have a story to tell. Two young men walked in to the passenger hall nonchalantly and started firing at people with their AK-47 rifles. They didn’t seem to care who collapsed under their gunfire. Those who ducked or tried to escape succumbed to grenades. As my hands struck each of those 75 minutes of gunfire, I witnessed more than 50 people fall lifeless with over a 100 injured. Those 75 minutes were the hardest to tick by. They turned this architectural landmark into a landmark of a massacre.

I watched while a little girl was shot in her leg, crippling her for life. I watched while people breathed their last and still begged their loved ones to hold on and not give up. And I watched while those two men continued to strike them down without remorse, regardless whether man, woman or child. In that mayhem, I witnessed a glimpse of humanity when a railway announcer saved lives by alerting passengers to leave. I watched while the terrorists used every minute of the police’s inaction to their advantage. I watched while the bullets engraved their marks into the walls of this tremendous structure. I watched the floors covered in blood.

Though my hands kept moving, time seemed to stand still for every victim. Later, I watched the limp bodies of those unfortunate, unsuspecting people being carried away from that bloodbath. The blood was mopped away; the wounded walls plastered; the videos wiped clean. They have been replaced with new trains, new people and new journeys while I still relive those memories with every tick.

A silent spectator, a timekeeper, I will have to do the job I was made and meant to do. I’ll just keep ticking away. I will never be able to forget the misfortune I witnessed, but I realize it is finally time for me to unravel and rewind back to those terrifying hours in 2008.

If you listen closely you might feel those seconds in every second.

  

Keeping watch over you

Picture Credit- Eden Fernandes

When the heavens put up a show

While here on earth
Life seems to be at a standstill
Calm, serene, unmoving, immovable
Stagnant
Stuck in our comfort zones,
Stuck in our rigid routines
Completely unaware of the world outside the world we created for ourselves
If we stop to take a moment
And just look at the skies
You see the heavens rallying for us
Swiftly, smoothly the clouds race by
Completely unobserved by our ignorant eyes.
This act of beauty is not reserved for meteorologists or scientists alone.
But we fail to look up
To pause our busy life
To observe a moment that'll never return
To see the clouds scurry past each other
I wonder if those wisps of vapour whisper amongst themselves
About how blissfully unaware a human race we are
They call for our attention
They grow grayer and darker
They thunder mysteriously
A sudden stroke of lightening sends a bolt through our hearts
Finally we look up to the heavens
While they bless us with little pearls of happiness.
We looked up in time for the final act but missed the rest of the show.

I Live in a House, Not a Home

I grew up in a house, not a home;
You may wonder why.
Is there any difference at all?
Well, if you know me, you'll understand why.

The house had bricks and mortar
It sheltered parents that I love,
A sibling to take care of me,
With blessings from God above.

Yet I feel most at peace 
Far from these mortar and bricks,
The world seems more understanding and open
It doesn't expect magic tricks.

I do have weaknesses
I'm not perfect, I'm me.
I try my best to reach the sky
And swim to yonder seas.

Care, appreciation, trust and concern
Were what I was looking to find.
Since I didn't find them in the 'house', 
I had to broaden my mind.

I slowly tried to spread my wings
And tested unknown storms
Learned new things about myself
And watched myself transform

I dared myself to break the limits
And watched them crumble before my might
I realized that I had the power
As long as I could put up a fight

As I return to the 'house'
The place of mortar and bricks
"Aren't you glad to be home?" they ask me
And that's when the pain really pricks.

A momentary lapse, I tell myself,
There is no gain without pain
I'll break free and climb new heights
And build my 'home' again

So This Is How My Day Ends!

On his way to school, he furtively looks around
His mother had warned him of some men, who shot down anyone they found.
He hoped it’d be safe, being a school route
Yes, they were terrorists, but surely, they wouldn’t shoot!
He hadn’t done anything wrong, he just wanted a better life
Earn well and help his mother and not perpetually live in strife.
His worst nightmare came true as a couple of burly men walked on to the road
Bang!
“So this is how my day ends!” he thought to himself, while from his chest the blood flowed.

Yet another, in a metropolis, a deemed University,
Availing the best of education and the finest hostel in the city
He had everything he wanted. At least to others it seemed
Yet he was unhappy and in silence he screamed.
He didn’t have anyone to call his own, did they not understand?
The money didn’t matter; he needed someone to hold his hand.
He suddenly wished himself in place of those boys far away
If nobody would miss him, why on earth should he stay?
He took the thought a step too far; hurling himself out of the window
“So this is how my day ends!” was his last thought with the final blow.

Somewhere, far away, a teen wrote his last board papers
It was time to begin life with fun and capers.
Partied with his friends, delicious dinner, he returned in spirits high,
Home again, he switched on the television with a tired but happy sigh.
The news channel flicked on and he cringed in dismay at the gory view
Of obscured bodies of innocent students that the terrorists mercilessly slew.
In the next minute, a suicide case flashed at the bottom of the screen
“So this is how my day ends!” he muttered, all the day’s happy memories wiped clean.

Fate deals everyone a unique and different hand,
What matters is how you play it, if you dare to make a stand.
Sometimes you lose or take yourself out of the game
Sometimes it makes no difference and you live life just the same.
You have the choice to take charge and give it your very best
Make a change wherever possible and let God take care of the rest.

Handle with care

When people brushed past her, she flinched

The touch of another’s hand would often cause her to cringe

Her brown eyes would follow their footsteps intently watching their way

She’d learnt her lesson in her younger days, she wasn’t going to fall prey

Though her mother missed her, she liked living on her own,

She was glad she had left her nest and away from it, had flown

Her mother had showered her with love and provided her with care

But the thought of home brought revulsion, there was no way she was going back into that lair

This was her own turf where she had to fend for herself

Away from the place she had fend off monsters who had hurt her little ‘self’

The memories of those monsters had left her bruised and scarred

She tried to hide them under her clothes and her tired but brave façade

She remembers when she was four,

Awaiting her cousins sitting at her front door

Hunched in a circle, they would tell each other stories at night

But these couldn’t compare with the ones that gave her fright

The youngest in the family, the apple of everyone’s eye

Pampered and loved beyond measure, then, she wasn’t shy

Of all her beloved relatives, her paternal uncle had been the best

Bringing her gifts and food galore, he cared for her, at least more than the rest

He came visiting a rare day, when she was home alone

Bringing delicious jalebis, fond of which she had grown

No one refuses such sweet delight, to herself she had thought

As she gobbled up and enjoyed the entire lot.

But then her whole world went hazy. Had she relished it too much?

She fell to the floor, and then recoiled, as she felt her uncle’s touch

There was a look behind those eyes that she had never seen before

A tighter grasp that roughly caught her and pulled her off the floor

Her hands went numb and feet went cold, she stared blankly, totally aghast

Seeing his face inches from hers, was the moment she remembered last!

When she woke up to her senses, she felt so ashamed

What was she to tell her mother? Could she be the one blamed?

Her body wasn’t hers any more, it felt impure and defiled

She felt dirty within her own skin and couldn’t wash away the memory even if she tried

Her heart pounding, she made her way to her mother’s room

Hard as she tried, she couldn’t describe how she had just been consumed

Gradually she lost her voice and turned into a shell

Barely alive, she was living a different kind of hell

Her soul had been tampered with, it could never again be whole

With her body and her mind, her innocence, he stole

She tried to come to terms with it and bravely faced all

When he turned up home again, with his usual charm, calling her a doll!

The terror that ran through her heart, she hid away petrified

She tried to speak to her mother again but remained tongue-tied

“How can that demon stand there, so brazen and so bold?

His desire has turned me into an object, an empty shell, so cold”

The words remained in her heart and did not make it through

His terrible act kept recurring till the age of twelve she grew

Bearing this heavy burden, she had turned into a ghost

She had lost faith and hope in the people she loved the most

Since she couldn’t find the words, in a letter she wrote

That she couldn’t live life anymore and planned to slit her throat.

This set off the alarm and brought attention to her call

Her parents found the letter and saved her before her fall

Now she lives in the city, she has left behind her past

A meagre income, a simple job, but enough for her to last

The memories still haunt her, she cannot get over the scare

She now walks around with a signboard saying, "I’m broken. Handle with care.”