On a busy street.
May be lost.
Wondering, of course
Not meaning to scare you.
It's a street after all.
From where the street is long
And never ending.
(Write about a time you left a group or a time you stayed while others left)
A theater group where I grew
Many left while I stayed back
Now I am inactive and new faces I see each time I visit
From being a senior now I am only a guest
Or maybe this is just how I see things
For I might not know what is happening there
I still do my bit from wherever and however I can
Words written by another has awakened this within me. Let me
not concentrate on it. Let me not shoo it away.
Why should I write for you to understand? Shouldn’t I write
as if I were dancing? Why don’t I dance anymore?
Those words have nudged this little person within me. They have
nudged her beauty, her free flow, her swiftness, her ease, her charm, her calm,
her stupor, her softness. I can see her now. Should I say hello? Should I greet
her? Will she smile at me or just stare blankly at me? Will I find accusation
in her eyes?
What is this I smell? Ego? Is that what it is (of mine) that
won’t let her dance?
I wish she would smile. This blog is only for me. I am
sorry, or may be not if you don’t understand. I surely do owe this dance to
I can see rain through her window. Maybe if it was open, the breeze would enter. Should I go open it? Will that make the music louder to
I can see her on her feet, they have begun to sway. What she
wears is nothing extraordinary but only a soft pink long garment. Her hair, she
always liked to leave open. She is not as fresh or happy as she looked when we
gradually started breaking apart but I think this dance will help. I think I see
hope on her face now. Her window, she has sprung open and let the breeze flirt
with her. Oh, she always adored that. It has been ages since these two danced
together. Tonight, I won’t stop them. Not for the fear of anything or anyone,
not even you.
The stars have missed her too. They are twinkling brighter
than an hour ago. The trees are swaying too. It is a masterpiece. It is the
perfect stage, her own perfect stage.
There she goes into her stupor. I hope she continues even as I intrude into her thoughts and I do hope I won’t stop her even as you intrude into mine.
Oh, I know how she has missed this freedom. There I see
those lovely feelings and thoughts encircling her and how they accompany her,
You can’t see this dance, may be you can attempt at
describing it but I would suggest you don’t. You can only feel it. Just feel
it. I can feel it.
And not for the love of fame or the need of money, neither
for the need of acceptance or the fear of criticism must I forget her.
My niece Mishti was born on march 3, 2012 at 21 hours, 43
minutes and 52 seconds. Since that moment, I have been a part time mother with
the only disability of feeding her.
Today is the first night that I won’t sleep by her because
she is visiting her paternal grandparents.
I remember feeling strong desires of having a little
brother/sister to take care of when I was hardly five. I vividly remember
having decided my daughter’s name when I was 13. Of course, now I am open to
I am not sure if it is Mishti’s innocent eyes or her
curiosity of the world around her or the fact that such a tiny person can even
smile and laugh and utter syllables or just her pure presence that has filled
our house with happiness that we have never known before as a family.
I had always been closest to my sister and Mishti has
strengthened that bond to great lengths, somehow. My sister and I now converse
and discuss our lives in spite of an age gap of eight years. My dad is finally
smiling and laughing more frequently every day, after many, many years. My
brother, well he is happy and away in Singapore but he sure did cry when she
I am sure this is the case with arrival of babies in every
house. A baby can make you feel real happiness and can easily calm your anger
Since our mother is not with us, I am the only support to my
sister. Our lives exclusively revolve around Mishti and depend on her bath,
feeding and sleeping timings. Mishti loves to be taken for a walk. She has not
learnt to walk yet but she keenly observes what she sees on the way. She is a
friendly baby who will smile at you and respond to you if you talk nicely
enough. She cries only and only when she needs something—mostly the reasons are
‘I am hungry’, ‘I am bored’, ‘I need a walk’ and ‘I am sleepy, put me to
sleep’. You figure what she wants by knowing what she has had already and
trying the remedy for each need one by one. I have never experience joy like
this before in caring for someone, except for Shiva who is closely behind in
I almost always imagine Mishti as a 3-year-old or a 5-year-old.
I imagine what clothes we will make for her and what activities we will do with
her. I am waiting to listen to all her stories from school and answer all her
questions about this huge complicated world and life. I am waiting to see her
apply her knowledge and sometimes present a wonder by explaining or reminding
us the simple truths of life. I just can’t wait to see what in life will become
her passion and I am all geared up to push her in that direction. I wonder if
she will dance like I do, I wonder if she will love to cook like her parents, I
wonder if she will paint all day long like I used to. Whatever it is that she
will want to do we will never keep her out of touch with that. We want to make Mishti
a confident, free person who will learn to take decisions and face the world
without fear from the very start—something that at least my sister and I lacked
for a long time.
Sometimes when I talk to my wonderful baby niece, I get a
feeling that she knows it all—she knows everything we know and don’t know.
Sometimes I feel she is patiently listening to us and asking herself “Why are
these people talking so stupidly to me?” or telling us by her toothless smiles
and laughs, “Haha, I know. I agree with you”.
As of now, my Mishti can perform a number of activities. She
continually turns her head around and when something catches her attention, she
stares at it. At this point, I think to myself that she is developing her
philosophical side, even though it sounds stupid. She follows loud sounds and
makes eye contact. She rubs her face, kicks her legs every waking minute, moves
her hands and has recently started flexing her fingers. She coos and gurgles in tones we are familiar
with. She has successfully tossed herself to her sides and once to her stomach,
too. She also produces explosive farts. It is hard to believe that a small
person like her can produce such huge farts. She can cry, of course and she has
also begun leaving her little pink tongue on the threshold of her tiny, pink
lips. She is even blinking now and then. I think she recognizes her mother
which is why her eyes follow her or just sit at where she sees her mother last.
She must also recognize me and what my duties are because each time she needs a
walk, she looks at me while her hands and legs get all restless.
That’s my little baby Mishti. There is so much more about
her like how adorable she looks in frocks, how blissful it feels to hold her
and hug her, how she smiles when we kiss her as she is asleep, how she likes to
sleep on her side and how she unbelievably looks like a grown up in that
posture, how she loves her super little bum to be rubbed and how she hates to
wear a diaper.
Each time she comes back from her vaccination shot, watching
her cry seems like the most impossible thing to do. And all we can think of is
reducing her pain, just somehow.
Today she needs us. I know that as years go by, she will
need us for lesser hours and lesser deals. Someday, she won’t need us except
when the situation is out of control. All I know is we will bring her up to be
a strong person and never hold her back because we love her so much and feel
too attached and too protective to let her go see the world on her own. As much
as I want to see her grow, it’s a shame that day by day she is moving away from
being such an adorable little baby of ours.