The Womb - Poems on Mother , Father , Children , Parenthood - volume 2
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Sheer astuteness compounded with an unbiased desire to make it independently ;
evolving a lavish civilization from threadbare scratch,
Rustic truth which earned hostile foes at occasions more than friends ; but which
culminated into royally satisfying victory at the end ,
Profound love for the environment and wildlife ; flourishing with mother nature in its lap ; without asserting the slightest of spurious power or might ,
A loyalty to spouse whose examples were cited to household’s in strife ; as an
outstanding human saga of real life conviction , faith , understanding and forbearance ,
Hailed as the Supremo of Denim in our very own Manchester of Textiles; Ahmedabad ,
Most importantly a faith in God and his holy messengers which gave him his own
inimitable position on mortal earth ; as he happily jostled in his freshly constructed
Kingsized farmhouse ,
The man turns 59 years today by the grace of God .
And though I have no regrets of not following his marketing prowess and write Poetry instead . I am still proud to have him as my Father .
Here’s wishing you Daddy a Happy Birthday for today , this gloriously enthralling 25th July , 2009
57. MY BABY DAUGHTER’S ORIGINALITY.
Not her daintily bountiful feet- which were the source of life in its uninhibited fullest in the brilliantly sunlit household,
Not her incongruous mumbling in the middle of the night; as she restlessly tossed and turned from one periphery of the King poster bed to another,
Not her vividly carefree artistry- which splashed color and gregarious charm –
resuscitating fresh life into the solitarily deadened canvas,
Not her streak for emulating fashion- earnestly trying to be a trendsetter in her own
pristine self- as she swayed joyfully under the stars in the royally moonlit night,
Not her unpredictable temperament- which flared up at the tiniest of provocation to box everyone around her and then tranquilly quell as a silent stream to eventually merge with the sea,
Not her intriguing genius that captivated the attention of the brightest in the world- as she collaged thin bits of obsolete waywardness to harness new dimensions of creativity,
Not her mischievously uninhibited smile- that led me merrily dancing in the surreal
velvet of clouds - envisaging earth the most blessedly beautiful place to be,
Not her inherently philanthropic streak- her magnanimously diminutive persona which donated without inhibition- even whilst the richest of the richest sneered in contempt,
Not her gorgeously unruffled hair which marked her identity as one who loved to play and revel in the glory of enchanting music- occasionally running the hair comb through her dolls,
Not her sipper which she clung to with ecstatic fervor and unparalleled joy- whilst
suckling droplets of impeccable milk at dawn,
Not her victorious enthusiasm to relish existence to its exhilarating fullest- as her
sacredness was a treasured gift from Lord Almighty to do and disseminate good around her,
Not her pedaling her cycle with new found spurts of energy- as she raced past the
finishing line and immediately hugged me with invincible zeal to celebrate her
monumental feat,
Not her unfettered sighs of admiration as she browsed television- garlanding her
favorite actors and actresses with tiny claps in her perception,
Not her unshakeable flair for choosing the right match of food at the right time - as she was one poignant aficionado of pungent taste and spice- making her meal a vibrant delight,
Not her unbridled passion for adventure as she made new friends irrespective of caste; creed; religion or tribe- explored new and natural pathways lugged on my shoulders in a piggy-back,
Not her artistically molded fingers with which she shaped clay into the choicest shapes of intricacy- and admirably wrote in handsome calligraphy upon listless paper- in a tenacity to succeed,
Not her magnetic ability to grasp things that she liked- and then form a story of the
various characters she perceived- fearlessly reciting the same to adult audience in her
own unduplicated aura,
Not her rushing to me like wounded crop at the tiniest fall which happened quite
inadvertently with the floor- and then I compassionately circled her in my arms showing her the fecund fields outside,
But what bowled me over. Was my baby daughter’s originality.
58. TO MY MOTHER – BEST WISHES ON YOUR FASCINATING BIRTHDAY .
The lady that personified unassailable grace , treading on the most impeccable marble
of her choice,
The wife who was irrefutably loyal to her husband , in the motley situations that the
exhilarating chapter of life had to offer,
The dutiful patron who embellished various spaces of her aristocratic farmhouse , with the choicest artifacts, figurines, statuettes and shrubs that she found with ease,
The daughter who skipped meals sporadically; earnestly concerned about her mother’s health; which was one of her most predominant priority as of now,
The uninhibited shopper who took rhapsodic delight in replenishing the shelves of her household – with the most robustly royal fruits to devour,
The grandmother who absolutely and profoundly doted on her grandchild , fulfilling the tiniest of her demands with toys befitting a grandiose princess,
The astounding philanthropist who would often lend all her meals to brutally famished street dogs and cats – and then cuddle them as if they were an inevitable constituent of her family,
The fantasizer who granted invincibly concrete shapes to her beautiful myriad of
thoughts ; as she persevered in her natural capacity to salvage her very own inimitable
identity on the trajectory of this planet,
The friend who patiently listened to the unprecedented agonies of her mates –
empowered their lives with her intriguing jokes; wit; laughter and congenial charisma,
The aunt who was ready impromptu to shoulder responsibility of the most distant of her relatives ; without the slightest trace of prejudice and malice – and as life demanded her to benevolently react,
The mother-in-law who had her share of irate squabbles with her daughter-in-law which was perfectly natural ; but yet at the same time made her welcome at home as she’d come far away leaving her own abode,
And most importantly ‘my mother’ for whom I was the unconquered best in the world – no matter what anyone said- and her belief in my poetry being the quintessential backbone of my impoverished mortal existence,
Here’s wishing you a very Happy Birthday on this joyously enthralling day of the 24th
March , 2010 .
59. MY DAUGHTER’S FASCINATING PILLOW .
She hugged it tight to her adorably tiny chest - as fierce thunderstorms and lightening
announced the onset of the profoundly vivacious monsoon,
She carried it like the most invincibly cherished of her toys - fantastically bemused by its spongy texture and compassionate friendship - kissing its rotund periphery with her nimble lips,
She unabashedly chided it for being transiently lost - as she found it after an excruciating search from amongst her plethora of toys of multitudinal shapes and
fraternities - immediately hiding it in her cup-board - so that none could inadvertently
venture it out again,
She cuddled close to it like it was the best of her friends - joyously assimilating her daily dose of several varied colorful cartoon characters and films - alongwith her favorite platter of wondrously tantalizing snacks ; ofcourse ,
She uninhibitedly tossed it high up in the air and then darted at electric speeds to catch it safely in her impeccably dainty arms ; at time
s also allowing it have a free fall and then burst into laughter as it timidly bounced,
She used it as one of her most creative hotspot's - scribbling and embodying its surface with every conceivable graffiti that her innocuous brain could conceive - letting her ingenious kid fingers vividly sketch upon it with color; paint; gratitude and inimitable charm,
She sporadically involved it in her impetuously playful fights - hurling it an incongruous left ; right and center to differentiate her own little toy territory in her room from the rest ; eventually collapsing on the floor in sheer and exuberant exhaustion ,
She proudly brandished it criss-crossed in open space - as if she was a fearless soldier
marching towards the corridors of victory - her very own fantasy triumph which was
amiably frolicking with her parents and savoring her reinvigorating dollops of lime candy ice - cream ; towards the end of the blissful day ,
She mischievously patted it with all her minuscule might - to tease her pet dog as he
patiently knelt on his hind legs as a mark of distinguished respect to her - and then she caressed him on his convivial ears and merrily gallivanted of to play with him
on the open terrace ,
She nonchalantly kicked it to express her frustration as the electricity went out - more
so ; since she knew that neither would it experience even the most insouciant of pain - nor would she harm herself in anyway ,
She used it as her most unfettered and darling punching bag - childishly pummeling
those prized fists of hers into royal cotton fabric - as she relished her earthly freedom to its natural and unfettered best ,
She intermittently took it alongwith her in the car - as she leaned her full weight upon it to perch like a princess and fantasize goodness - as the vehicle majestically sped
through the wilderness of the intrepid streets ; interspersed with motley traffic ,
She made it the most fantabulously decorated roof of her playhouse - with the walls
made of rustic straw, stick, lace, plastic, cap, paper and whatever worthily intriguing
object that she could lay her hands upon - as she entered her thrilling abode with her
impeccably loved friend,
She sank deep within its cozily empowering recesses when tired after the evening's
play - and then beautifully shrugged herself to complete her school work with utmost
sincerity - greet the new tomorrow with philanthropy and astounding creativity,
She deliberately plucked at its stitching and ripped apart its cover to threadbare junk – to roll upon it ; in its gloriously bohemian baldness - and then beautify it with a richly
embroidered cloth of her very own stellar choice ,
She narrated her different stories about her experience with it with mortally unmatched aplomb - which could almost be published as a book by some of the best publishers in the world ; as she happily jostled on the tree on the absolute edge of the magnificently plush lawn ,
She languished in its unparalleled serenity in her moments of silence - then came up
with some of the most comic anecdotes of her trysts with existence - spontaneously
rushing to hug those cherished to her as she felt earnestly versatile ,
I , her father, simply adored her benevolent feelings towards it ,
But she, my cute daughter, truly loved her fascinating Pillow .
60. WHY WAS I AS A PARENT, AN ALL-TIME FAN OF EURO-KIDS VASTRAPUR ? ( eurokidsindia.com ) .
Not because my daughter was studying in its majestically serene ambience,
Not because there stood a gigantic ‘Neem’ tree right in its center, enchanting every dreary nerve with unparalleled contentment,
Not because the sky above it always seemed cheerful-with innocent children shrieks and laughter forever winning its heart,
Not because of its indisputably sparkling floor and walls-the cleanliness that was spectacular in even the remotest of its quarters,
Not because of the English Language which was spoken to the highest authority-acclimatizing hearts at their youngest, with the expression of the World,
Not because of its enormous flexibility- which uninhibitedly heard the voice and whims of every parent and unruly toddler,
Not because it was successively adjudicated the best ‘Branch’ of its kind-from all across its centers in Asia,
Not because it brought about a whole new freshness of ideas, concepts and curriculum, as far as modern day teaching was concerned,
Not because it was one of India’s largest ‘Pre-School’ chains- giving concrete direction to many worried parents-who were otherwise helter-skelter in choosing the best for their blood,
Not because it bountifully showered various intriguing gifts to its students-painstakingly crafted by its ‘ever-hardworking’ bunch of adorable teachers,
Not because it had an amazing eye for detail-regularly maintained an accurate performance list of all its assiduous students,
Not because it magnificently helped your child to undergo the painful transition from home to school—always with a big smile,
Not because its methodology of teaching was ingeniously practical oriented-rather than loading the student with heavy school-bags-and endlessly cramming from text-books,
Not because of its beautifully personalized attention-where its tiny students never felt away from their mothers-infact started to poeticize in their alien environment,
Not because of the wonderfully patient ear-that it timelessly lended to even the tiniest of concerns or complaints from its discerning community of students and parents, alike,
But I was an all-time fan of “Euro-Kids, Vastrapur” ( eurokidsindia.com ) because it was here, that my child found a second home, away from her actual home-most importantly it was here that my child found “Love” & “Respect” for her in every teachers eye—which was the very reason that she longed to go to school, above all her indoor friends and toys .
The End .