The Niner of a Niner!

Growing up is ubiquitous. It’s everywhere from pencil marks on the Spiderman height chart to the ways you define and understand things. From the way you carry yourself independently to the way you help out with chores. 

And I understand the allure of keeping you a baby in my mind; every night kissing you good night – am seduced by the thoughts of your infant self, the toddler you – the you on whose feet my flip-flops looked huge. The you who could fit in the bath tub and giggled with the splashes. 

And my secret everyday moments of thrill is watching you after you are asleep - thats' when the baby you unveils. The lash shadow on your cheeks are still the same as they were when you were 2 

Am seduced and yet I marvel at the young person you are becoming sometimes despite of me! Haha! Mummy’s self deprecating pot shots at self. I hope you don’t get these from me - but then you do cultivate the ability to laugh at yourself. Your preoccupation of the moment is identifying parts of your self - the tangibles and the habits - in other family members. "Mummy, do you think I got my naughtiness from RY or Soma?" "Mummy do you think are my feet like yours?" "Oh now I know, why am I such a geek!!" 

You are your own person – a discoverer, a giver, a kind-heart with will of steel. 

And as you rush towards your decade now – I am aware the world is going to be a difficult one. 

The world for which you care so deeply because “mummy, do you think we humans are greedy against mother nature?”  - will not be the same as now – its changing as fast as you are – it’s growing up too in a manner entirely unpredictable of all the AI theories we discuss at bedtime. 

You want to be a historian, an archaeologist, a scientist and a musician. You are extremely sincere and fair as a person and my hero. 

And all I wish for you in these last few hours of your 8thyear – that for the rest of your smiling sunrises and dancing sunsets – you remain the man you are becoming! 

A smart sensitive stubborn supernova of a man. 

And even when you see your light being shadowed by the world or by your own evolution lessons – know this – am always a step behind you  - your biggest fan and your first best friend. 

It’s an honour to be your mother, my heart!  A very very Happy 9th  Birthday!

p.s: incidentally this is my 306th post with 27 in draft and 279 published!!

Copyright©Neerja Yadav

Just. Now

Today for no particular reason has been a complete sunshine day!
More so, after a night of sleep which was like trapeze artist hovering on semi-conscious, a melange of dreams – cute and scary. Every few hours I felt like I was almost awake, and, for a moment upon waking after in the morning, I was sure I had not slept at all. Well, I had. Insomnia has been a friend for a while.  Last 8 weeks or so things have been moving with alarming dynamism on event horizon. Everything collided and fused with everything else, feeling rutted and no-tears in sight, no let out - most of the times, I was exhausted both in body and spirit.

What exactly is the colour of pain? Why do we write? Does narrative help? Can all experiences can be distilled into a few extraordinary moments? Closed, undetected in some handy corner of the heart? And, are some moments in life not so priceless that they are worth those other zillion of wasted moments when we ghost walk our existence? The moments that are timeless…

Like the first kiss that stole your heart or the first wail of your baby or the moment they gave you first paycheck or when you were proposed or the moment you see death… Some moments definitely are timeless.

Why do we write? To collect these timelessness, which the “dailiness” of life at times begins dissolving into haziness.

With bad throat triggered by autumn hay fever - i stayed home, tried to be tucked in - ended up taking a hot shower and well books and this space here.The unhurried silence that hung snugly on the whole place. One of those sublimely autumn days, where the breeze is just pleasantly cool, the sun just graciously warm and the sky the color of rich undisturbed blue with occasional wispy white clouds.
I pick up one of the books from my rising tower of un-read pile and settle down for a slow leisurely read. A perfect treat on a quietly perfect day. The whole place just ringing with that bonhomie silence interspersed with voice of domesticity.
The sleepy warmth of sun, I sink into the delicate folds of my beanbag, face upturned drinking up the sun slowly but hungrily. The air cool and filled with fragrance of fall: of falling leaves and welcoming winter

My only companion my book and the flight of those winged creatures… the ones I have envied for their unassuming freedom, forever. I have not a had day like this, witnessing and revelling in the glory of now.

And just like that I snap out of despondency. And, for sure I haven't lost my capacity for joy. My capacity for diving into these exquisite moments, dripping with love, with the unchallenged certainty!

Copyright © Neerja Yadav