Little dancing souls

“Do you ever miss your father?” I ask my 9 year old student Lhaki when she is taking a bite of sandwich that I had offered her. She shakes her head halfheartedly.

“My angay says I don’t even look like him.” She says after few more bites.

“You are so pretty.” I tell her passing a glass of juice. “Where did you get those cute dimples?” She answers back with a bashful smile.

“My aie has it too.” She says blushing pink in the face. “My baby sister has just one on the left cheek. I think I got it from my mother. I am not sure whether I should be missing him or not. But sometimes I lie wide awake at night and wonder why he left us without even an appropriate goodbye. ”

I stare at her for a few minutes opening and closing my mouth like a goldfish. Okay, a speechless, stupid silly looking goldfish. I have been living with my parents for like, forever. I couldn’t picture how it felt to be raised by a single mother or a single father or just by a loving grandparent or none at all.

It was like deciding to despise everyone I loved.

“Even though he is your father, I think he is one of the most irresponsible human alive.” I tell her. “If he had even a bit of manliness in him, he wouldn’t have had the guts to leave the woman he married to and a very lovable daughter behind and disappear into thin air like the coward he is. But in a way you are lucky. You have the world’s bravest mother to look after you and your grandparents who place you above all the others and love you more than anything in the world while the few others I know have none of these people. ”

“I was just a baby when he left.” She mumbles quietly, sadness etched in those vibrant eyes.

“He missed the chance to watch you grow up into this fine-looking girl. He could have stayed back and witnessed the beauty of your babyhood but he didn’t. If there is anyone I feel bad about, it’s him. I feel sorry for him.”

“My agay says he left behind his useless phone. Maybe he thought we are stupid people after all. “She shakes her glossy hair uncertain, whether to be angry or just let out an empty laugh. ”The one time I met him he barely recognized me. How stupid of me to expect that he might, somehow. It’s my angay who introduced me to him. He hardly said anything. No ‘how are you doing’ or ‘What class are you in’ questions. Just gave us a nod and an awkward glance away from me. And when he did look at me, he stared at me as if I was that one ill-fated coin he’d tossed away which somehow found its way back to him. He placed few hundreds on my hand and left hurriedly. I later offered that money to some of the temples I visited and wished he would be looked after well by his children whom he might actually love because no matter how terrible a person he had been to us, it would bother me so much if I happen to see him suffer.”

“Are you really nine?” I confirm lifting the bangs off her face and peering intriguingly. Her mouth lifts into a sweet grin.

“My aie told me once that if I ever start believing that I am weak and troubled and of less importance, then the people around me would make me feel that way. So I took her advice and even though my family is not complete and wonderful and happy like some of the others, I learnt by heart the brave words of hers and I have tried to be safe in my own ways. I learn new things every day, I work hard to succeed in whatever I do because I want my aie and all the people who love me, to be proud of what I have achieved. And I want him to wish he stayed back all those years ago. I know it’s a wild daydream but I wish he would come back begging for forgiveness.”

“And I am glad that you are. This life, well, it’s never fair on anyone. I am sure by this time around, he’d have realized that he lost something precious no money can ever replace. Everyone has a weird and farfetched dream, sometimes. It’s this madness that keeps us normal and even hopeful some dreadful rainy days. You are full of surprises and beautiful clichés. I am told it’s the absence of things and person in our life that makes us value them more. Hadn’t it been the case, I am sure we would be taking it for granted and fail to be glad about its presence. So, few years later, what if he does come begging you to take him back?” I ask her.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen. He never intended to stay back with us, anyway. For years I watched my aie heartbroken and miserable and weep over a man who treated us like a litter. She would drink to overcome that sadness. I can still picture her face. I can never forget that. My angay says everything is destiny and that there’s no running away from it and nobody has the power to change it. Maybe she is right. She always is.”

“I am sorry you had to go through tragic moments at such young age. You are a brave girl.” I tell her proudly.

“I am glad I was sad once because without it, I am sure I would have never learnt what happiness is. My stepfather is a wonderful man. He keeps my mother happy and I am glad I have a lovely sister to look forward to when I go home.” She beams. “I want my sister to have a father she can always rely on. I hope her luck and fate never runs out.”She adds barely audible.

I don’t know for how long we sat there staring in the distance each welcoming the stillness that enveloped us. The bell for evening tea that rang tumultuously was the only thing that nudged us to the present. She profusely thanks me for the sandwiches and scuttles off to join her friends.

I glance out my window just in time to see her blissfully dancing down the road, the heavy burden finally lifted off that weary chest and the unhappy past already slipping away from her determined little head.

 

Mondays and Sundays

Mondays always seem a very lousy day to begin with. Fridays are never better. Saturday ends with a loud and manner-less knocks on my door, to say nothing of the Sundays spent guiltily of having wasted the only day of the week which could have been a cheerful, relaxing one.

Do I regret for having lived this routine for the past 76 weeks ? Of course not. There are joys words can’t express, feelings that gets misplaced every time I pen it down, laughter echoes only in my ears, honesty engraved in the eyes that meets with mine and the innocence that radiates dreamily with a quiet snore in the dead of the night.

It’s still a miracle that despite the daily rebuke and an endless chastisement, they emanate with ceaseless affection. My children teaches me way more than life ever could. There is forgiveness after every outburst of emotion, smiles after a mini tearful drama, fuss about misplaced pencils, broken heart over a broken tooth, heart attack over a tiny cut, fainting at the sight of a needle and frowning at amoxicillin pouch.

 

It takes patience to keep up with their ever growing mind and a little more to listen to their nagging and complains and fault findings, yet some other days they become some grown up you might have never met before.

While Mondays torture me and Fridays make my heart leap a beat and Saturdays get too noisy, I sit at the end of their bed on a fine Sunday morning and stare into those enigmatic eyes wondering which girl I would be meeting up with this time. The one who is always insecure about losing her friends or the one who points out that I have failed to keep my promise twice in a row.

Seeking Warmth

 

“You are cold, grandpa.” I tell him placing my hands over his cheeks. He shivers lightly as the warmth of my finger seeps into his frigid sun-tanned skin.

“I don’t feel anything.” He says vaguely.

“But you are cold.” I tell him while I cover all of his bare skin with a comforter.

“Grandpa, do you want to take a nap?” I ask him as he yawns for the fourth time.

“Yes, I think sneaking into my warm bed would do me good.” He admits bleakly.

With much tugging and pulling, I help him stand on his feet. He holds the edges of the door as we make our way to his bedroom. Other than the uneasy ragged breaths, he doesn’t say anything. After what seemed like eternity, we reach his badly lit room. I could smell the faint odour of antiseptic my aunt had used to eradicate all foul smell that lingered due to inappropriate number of times he had to attend the natures call and the same amount he’d recklessly got entangled in the blankets, taking him forever to empty his excretion.

I tuck him safely into his bed.

He sighs in exhaustion as I heave a breath of relief myself. I pull the sheets up to his chin and stuff it’s corners under the mattress in case he turn and toss in his sleep.

“She’s gone forever, hasn’t she?” He asks me quietly; voice so faint I had to repeat his words in my head few times before I could register what he was actually saying.

“Of course not. Grandma will always be with us. Nobody can take her away.” I tell him shaking my head in horror at his train of thoughts. “We love her as much as you do.” I add mildly, suddenly forming a lump in my throat.

“Do you want me to stay while you are still awake, grandpa?” I ask him when he, instead of dozing off right away stared at the charcoal black ceiling, decorated with endless silver like cobwebs.

“I have been sleeping here by myself all this time, haven’t I??Did your mother ask you to keep an eye on me?? I won’t go out on my own again. Even if I did, tell her I am not a child anymore.” His anger flared up without a head start warning.

“I know it’s annoying sometimes but grandpa, the stairs are too steep. If you topple down, you could get hurt. She worries about you. In fact we all are because we care. Because grandpa, you are all that’s left for us now.” I insert hastily trying to avoid the tantrums he sometimes threw when mother was around, like a kid he pretended he was not.

“I miss her.” He sighs heavily, pain visible in every single pore of his skin.

“I miss her too.” I admit weakly. “Promise me you will not go out when we are not around. Do you?” I ask him softly. He doesn’t reply to that. Well, not right away.

“I want you to stay nearby. ” I nod half amused at his stubbornness. Seconds later, a peaceful snore floats about the room.

“Goodnight.” I whisper aloud; a smile playing on the corner of my lips

It was a FAIRY TALE

I’m a tiny little princess

Of a kingdom far away

Lovingly i’m engulfed

With the biggest crowd ever.

My maids bow down before me,

They envy my breathtaking tiara

And the overflowing ball gowns.

How they wish to be be

And walk down the aisle

In my shiny Cinderella slipper

To be me,the most beautiful of all.

But that doesn’t end my fairy tale..

With ‘Happily ever after ‘

All those moments seem vague

To my weak human eyes.

They say i’m a repulsive monster..

An ugly gruesome beast.

And i fear to see my own reflection

The farther i run,nearer it comes

Following me noiselessly all the while.

I’m inside a dark,smelly dungeon

Clouded by my own shadowy past

And a completely dark future

I force my eyes shut to be awake….

And to be awoken by a charming prince,

Who’d say “Wake up milady,wake up…..”

Soothing me that i was dreaming the whole thing..

The whole time…………..

Timeless

I started this off as a letter.

A letter composed of hurt,

pain, rejection, heartbreak,

melancholy, nostalgia.

I recollected the moments,

the memories, the minutes.

i felt low; misery already drowning me.

The pain pierced deep

seeping in raw and flesh.

Hurling in shards of glasses

Piercing, breaking, wrecking.

Pieces falling off the edges,

I don’t hear a feeling.

seconds, minutes, hours

Seeming like an eternity.

 

SARAH KAY

To write about you after you are gone is

to lie back on a snow bank, feel

the freezing crunch of swinging arms

and legs, silhouetting angels

against an endless white, and then–

to wait until July to try

and describe the silver moon, the

crisp breath, the goosebumps on my arms

from flakes slipping up my sleeves.

 

To find hollyhocks boasting blooms

of pinks and whites and burgundies,

arranging them in a bundle,

watching them explode the dining

room table with perfumed color,

and then– to wait until they have

wilted, died, crumpled and been cleared ,

to try and explain to someone

all that this empty vase once held.

 

To shout at the mirror, the rain,

the wood burning in the fireplace,

knowing no amount of hindsight

can heal what had to unravel,

knowing no possible warning

could have prevented it. Knowing

that rain only knows how to hurl

itself headlong to the pavement,

knowing that a log, already

on fire, splits it’s body open to

offer more of itself to burn.

Heartless moment

I don’t think goodbyes ever hurt before

not as much as the old wound

that’s cut open, bare and bleeding.

Blood ooze out heartlessly,

wrecking whatever part of me is unhurt.

But it’s this stupid tears that’s bothersome,

dripping down where everyone can see,

leaving stains; giving away my pain.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

I chant silently

I hope it doesn’t hurt as much as it does now.

So no, I am not at all a morning person

 

The day greets me with breathtaking fog that rolls in every morning; the aftermath of the rain we’ve had in the wee hours of the dawn. My stomach growls as if to remind me that I had early dinner last night and that I have curry that would last until the next breakfast if I skip it now. I half grumble at the very thought of the kewa datshi I readily cooked in for lunch yesterday.’When was the last time I didn’t not have kewa in my plate?’ I ponder loudly. A month ago?

‘Ha.’ My mind sneer nastily. I quietly look out the window and fall my gaze on the little bed of kitchen garden I and a friend had worked so hard the entire Sunday few weeks ago. I smile in triumph watching the beans germination in three’s. Why three’s? Hey we didn’t want our energy to go in waste if the seeds did backlash us and refuse to sprout. Three is indeed better than one. Rows of tiny spinach leaves relished the morning breeze.
The light flickers on and off so as to dilute my light mood.

‘Whatever’ I shrug and fix myself a lemon water.

‘When did you become so self-conscious?’ My cousins would definitely ask. Who wouldn’t when you live on top of the hill and it takes almost 200 flights of stairs to reach the staff room and after reaching home, all you do is collapse happily on your bed totally bummed to do anything but nap. I tear down the stairs when the first bell goes off. Crap! I curse under my breath. I badly wish I hadn’t worn heels at times like today. The thought of stumbling and crashing dramatically down the footpath, gave me all the creeps. I walk down perfectly poised and sure of myself. But then big pellets of rain suddenly drops on my head slowly dripping down my nose to the ground. I groan in annoyance. I am not yet accustomed to the unpredictable tantrums of nature. I duck my head in surrender.

“Good morning ma’am.” A row of students greet me in unison.

“Morning” I greet back; relief gradually washing over me. The stack of ill luck I had been going through, banishing to the deepest corner of my mind.

‘Hay! Good morning to you as well.’ I tell my grumpy self giggling quietly. Maybe there is something really good about the mornings you wake up to.

‘Whatever’ I hear in my head.

Dearest Lilemo,

I am so sorry for not thanking you right away for that beautiful piece of affectionate post on my birthday. You can rebuke me for being really irresponsible and reckless. So as you know, I wish I was as inspiring as you say I am but to be pretty much honest, I cant help feeling good hearing it someone; that someone who happens to be a someone i have known these few years and whose inner beauty is even more striking than the adorable face i have hot acquainted with. No number of “TBH” can equal the gratitude and exuberance your existence invoke in my dull life. thank you for letting me know that you read a lot and that you look forward to my not-so-interesting-but-silly scribbles. i bet you nobody has asked me for this in decades. i will inbox you whenever this stupid network is at its best. i am extremely sorry for not being there at your worst. but despite any hardships that block your pat, remember to stay beautiful and shine the brightest, live fully and don’t ever take that endearing smile off your face. wear it like its priceless. oh darling, it is invaluable.

I don’t know how it feels to have someone to share what i feel, be grumpy about when life gets worse, act insane together, keep endless secrets, not be afraid to break rules, argue unceasingly and feel stupid later and all in all , to have someone whose very presence can raise a smile even on a gloomiest day. But one thing I am sure of, I will enjoy every moment of my life knowing you. Be the same wonderful self.

TBH: The most beautiful people do not need to tell anyone they are beautiful, they show their inner beauty just by living and let the world figure it out.

Dearest Lilemo

I have no idea what you must be going through in losing what I know, is the strongest pillar of strength in your life. I  know your mother was that to you too and with this loss came so many layers of heartache. Mothers are our first careers, our first playmates, and our first real friends. She’s the woman who rocked us to sleep when we were babies, breastfed us, patched us up when we hurt ourselves playing and dried our tears when we had our heart broken for the first time. They are angels on earth, superheroes in dresses, and miracle workers,. Your mother was an extraordinary woman who gave of herself so unselfishly. I hope you know that so many people love her and that she will be terribly missed by all. I think about you and the pain you are experiencing right now. I pray that you will be comforted by the stories of your mother and that you will have the strength and the courage to move forward. I see so much of her in you, and I know how very proud she was of you. She loved you so much and I hope you know that there’s nothing that she wouldn’t have done just to see you happy. The loss is beyond words and that the pain you are feeling is indescribable. I can’t say I know how it feels to lose our mother but I know your heart is broken and I wish I had the magic words to take away all the pain. But I can only share in your pain and sorrow and hope that you will find the peace and comfort that you seek during these challenging times and that the memories of your mother will ease your pain as you move forward in life without her. I hope that you will be reassured by the incredible love that your mother had for you and your entire family. Say not, in grief , that your mother has gone, but always remain thankful that she was yours. If there comes a moment that you cannot come out of your house of darkness, I hope I can be the person you will depend on, to come pull the shades up and let the light in. I am here for you. Always.