The aroma of the biscuits and the freshly delivered newspaper hung in the air heavily.
The father sat there with a pencil and a pad,
Eager to accomplish the most desirable feat by any dad.
In small boxes, black prints, the entire marriageable population seemed hurdled.
But then again not all would do for their loving girl,
Educated, charming, pretty she stood there with lovely curls.
She was fit for them all but then wouldn’t be the desired fair bride.
After decades of uptan and tubes of those lovely fairness creams,
She just couldn’t be the lady of their dreams!
An opened email read out in Shakespearean words her bronzer tone and grace.
She wondered if it was just another mail that would cease with time,
After all her mother always said that dark beauties were worth nothing but a dime!
How many times today since morning have you wondered what to post?
How many times today you have thought about a perfect Monday theme/post and then changed your mind to post something else?
How many times today you wished you had scheduled a post last night?
How many times did u take time off work coz you know it’s Monday and people will post?
How many times today has Blogspace made you smile and forget that it’s a mundane morning?
My answer to the above – loads of times, once even cracked up during meeting checking comments on my PDA (if you tell my boss I’ll kill ya!) …. Mondays are no longer Mundane now and surprisingly I like the colour Blue too
Stroking your hair watching you sleep,
Feeling your snuggle near my heart,
A lump forms near my throat,
Leaving me bewildered from where to start.
A new morning awaits you,
Filled with life and zest,
But tonight I want the moon to shine long,
As I talk to you about not living life in haste.
I want you to scale new heights my child,
Just like all mothers do,
But let the heights be not interpreted to mean summits,
For your carefree childhood years are few.
I want you to sail across life, amidst sweet winds,
I want you to travel across the globe to discover the wonders that are in store,
But let the travel not be alone in a quest to record a sail,
For then it becomes an imprudent rush to settle a score.
I want you to excel in what you love,
I want you to follow your heart,
But then again I want you to enjoy the blessings of childhood,
And not lose little joys and innocence in the pretext of an ‘early start’.
If at 16 you are not old enough to vote, marry or drive,
I also know that you are not suitable for low-oxygen hardships, courtroom drama or sponsor appeal,
For the teenage is the age when you should laugh run and yes have the first brush of ‘crush’
Not sloth away blogging at the mid sea, battling depression and being a part of the media reel!
I hold that true even if you read Well’s at the age of six,
For at 14 you should be into Harry Potter and not debate on micro physics
I know the peer pressure is huge and the competition large,
But then shouldn’t you remain ignorant for a little while more before learning to decipher life’s tricks?
I want to discover more scrapped knees and lasting mad mud-football sprees
I want to probe into that blush of the cheeks and that ‘you are grounded’ stage,
I want to think about fun summer camps and peppy adolescent talks,
I just want you to remain a child till you are allowed by your age.
There’s a lot of time my child for you to make headlines,
There are a lot of moments left to discover the thrill of achieving milestone days,
Let your world now be filled with fun maths, summer treks and leisure trails,
For what’s the haste you would grow up anyways to be absorbed into the mad rat race!
I had promised to myself to keep my blog as light and funny as possible on Friday, after being told so sometime back that it sets the mood for the weekend, but then the Hindu Editorial and the prodigy child news somewhere led me to think whether in the rush of creating news we are robbing our kids of the childhood fun and as kids affect me the most, I couldn’t help the above muse!
The title of the post is one of my old MLTR favs
City of Evil Eyes,
Never to be visited land
Victim of your love – S