Beginning of new things

Tonight as the T9 plays percussion on the windows, I cannot help but ride the wave of nostalgia. It feels like just yesterday that I held you in my arms for the first time, marveling at the tiny bundle that wrapped all of my soul in! You remain the most beautiful thing I ever met. 

And before you say ‘that’s not true!’ Let me tell you, am allowed to be not objective!  It’s in the job description ☺️

Can you believe it? Fourteen candles flickering on your birthday cake, reminding us all that you are no longer a little boy but a brilliant young man. 

First and foremost, let me say that you are an absolute rockstar. Your intelligence shines through in everything you do. You amaze me with your thirst for knowledge and the way you effortlessly soak it all in.  You have grown not only in height, but also in character. Your kindness, compassion, and generosity shine through in everything you do. Whether it's helping a friend in need or standing up for what's right, you have always displayed an innate sense of goodness that fills my heart with joy and gratitude.

So, here's to being fourteen and still leaving your mom struggling to keep up with your brilliance!

Ah, your sense of humor – the goofiness that never fails to fill our house with laughter. You have a knack for turning even the dullest moments into something hilarious and memorable. Your perfectly timed jokes and silly antics always light up the room. 

You are determined to give your best in everything you pursue, and it's a quality that will take you far in life. Whether it's acing exams, perfecting your basketball skills, or mastering that new guitar riff, you approach every challenge with unwavering dedication. Your work ethic is truly inspirational, my baby

As you embark on your teenage years, I want you to live in the moment, be present and embrace yourself, all the essence of yourself and never be afraid to learn and grow and question and go after your dreams. 

You are a stardust of boundless potential, my love, and the planet is that much better with you in it! 

Know that I will always be your home! 

Happy 14th, my goofy ‘crosstridge’ heart! 

Love, Ma 

Copyright©Nee

No method to this madness

Tomorrow this might change,

Tomorrow you might become someone I once knew… barely even  or 

Tomorrow might just be…

Yet today …

In my head your voice is like treacle 

in my head your eyes find mine across the room

Again and again 

In my head all your words feel like caress 

In my head all your fingers  find mine across oceans again and Again

In my head we watch movies, go on hikes, to the museum - agree to disagree, 

quickly forget that and argue finer points 

In my head you resolve the said arguments 

with a kiss - 

gentle and then not so …

In my head the hunger is always

 lurking beneath the surface of logic 

In my head lifetimes and seconds collide

In my head the tentative steps become pirouette 

In my head the fear becomes fuel 

In my head stranger ness doesn’t feel weird 

In my head, the desire wakes up 

from the hibernation of ages 

In my head  the sunshine and meteor showers and spring morning and winter full moon nights

and beach camps and aurora borealis 

make a montage 

all because, 

the way your words flow 

and the way you sound 

and the things you say 

and the questions you ask 

and answers you present 

In my head this is a tiny swirling supernova -

In my head all of me, 

arches up to meet all of you .. 

AGAIN and again 

it’s just in my head…

Copyright©Nee

my toddler grief

most times i hate you, which means most times i hate myself and i hate that i do that... because this hate of mine, it really has to fight the overwhelming heart, that's me. i wasn't made to hate, dad 

remember you said, i had to toughen up? remember you said, i was the best and then remember when you said i would never amount to much because i wasn't following your orders of structure and family pride? and remember when we laughed together on silly things? and remember all the zillion discussions of philosophy? and remember how you would give the shirt off your back to a stranger in need? and beat up your own child black and blue? and remember when you stayed up all night when we fell sick? and also carry me for my Grade 10 exams? and remember when i stayed up all night - night after night on the hospital floors, leaving my child to men who were trying to get to me by playing the child's father? and i hated that i knew that and had no options in that moment? (HATE! that word again!) because i was desperately, helplessly trying to delay the inevitable? and remember when i implored you to let go and not hold on anymore because the body you were in was beyond repair? and remember when somu and i held your hand and began coming apart in slow motion time lapse film, even as you were struggling to breathe? and remember how i was haunted by all consuming presence of your absence? the smell of death that hung in the rooms and clung to me, on my clothes, in my hair, on my skin? and i don't think i have been able to wash it all out yet, and remember when we went to cremate your body?  because that wasn't you - i could hear you whispering inside my head and i knew this was never letting me go? and remember how i never did more than perfunctory rituals and crying, because none of that was for you.... you were not there.... and yet here you are. in all consuming claustrophobia if i let my mind even breathe in the direction...

7 years! practically a toddler, this unboxed grief of mine - am not sure, if this qualifies as grief, even. are the labels and qualifications necessary? 

there are days i still feel you. there i am, going about my day - doing the adulting , the mommying, the politics fielding (and failing) at work and i find you in my periphery or inside my head - in all your narcissist and gregarious glory. 

in the spectrum of grey - am still looking for the colour that can hold you.

quantum physics says you very much exist; do you think, unwittingly, i found a portal to traverse the dimensions?

don't worry though... am sorted, as much as one can be with the glorious mess of being truly fucked up and yet hopeful. 

and don't fret though... it's a detached observation, as much as one can be detached whilst being part of the control system. 

the observer creates the reality, remember?

Copyright©Nee

Saturday Born

 Happy Birthday, Nee!

 I don't think am a deliberate contrarian - it's more of a default state - during my 20s and pretty much early 30s- when birthdays were a reason for sundowners to dawn parties - i shirked it vehemently,

two decades later when it's perhaps a thing not to be touted because, hello - you are not a child or hello mid-life blah blah - i love birthdays - the concept, the occasion; it serves as a reminder that your self was once an innocent guileless pure slate - there still is hope.

I love birthdays, especially mine!

Copyright©Nee

notebook

Most of the time its fragments, I exist in. Fragments of facts, mosaic of memories, pieces of happiness, dots of grief, burst of anger and handful of laughter. Mix it well! 

There, you have the recipe of how I live. Even with words… short phrases…disjointed analogies… dissected thoughts barely fitting into pull-over of grammar. 

Maybe that’s why … I can never see myself writing one whole book… I have some zillion stories, theories, screenplays, poems, ideas… inside me. Like every body else … I am a barely put-together puzzle of carbon base. And, unlike some of us… and salute to all those who can, so glowingly seduce the language to make such exquisite and sizzling stories; I am limited by my run-on sentences. Am limited by my own parentheses and maybe all I need to do is remove them to make the equation simpler? Or does it complicate matters?

Sometimes I can’t say things all the way, the way they are. Instead, the feeling is simply there, welling up. Like smoke in the air, or the boiling kettle.

And, right now, and I wish I could be more voluble about it...

Copyright©Nee