Advice advice

Sounds simple these three words - "Get over it!"

I am trying to... well almost now...

I have a few scars here and there and a stubborn layer of flab on my tummy.

Strength training is the key...breath in, breath out..."Power" shouts my trainer!

I can feel it, yes! I have lost some...some  unwanted part of me.

Sounds simple these three words - "Get over it!"

I am trying to, well almost now...

As I get into the thick of this writing, I hear the wails of my little one,

leaving aside everything, yes my sanity at times included, I sit besides her.

I ignore the household chores, I ignore my aching stiff body .

For hours together she is on my lap, lunching even when all my milk is exhausted.

I drink water conscientiously  and 'let go' off it only when I can steal time...

Yes, yes its there for everyone to see...

 I am getting over it...every minute of the day.

I am almost there...  almost forgotten those nine months, all the anxiety and excitement,

Almost questioning myself "Come again, what are labor pains?"

I am ready to conquer the world! Bring it on!

"Let's plan your next move in life" - says a small voice in me and lots of voices around me.

I put on my thinking cap and fiercely start brainstorming,meticulously planing the future...

Till I hear her gurgling, making funny sounds, laughing, staring at me...then the sad face (that killer move of the lower lip!), all the toys, the soother, the pampers, my milk soaked clothes, her milk soaked clothes, her new moves, her soft touch...and my heart melts...and I am back to square one!

I do not think I will ever 'GET OVER IT' !!!

The first droplets of motherhood - The days after

After having given birth to my daughter on the 27th of March, I had to spend the next three nights at the hospital. Now this was going to be a challenge since I had almost no one for company. Well of course my baby and another woman and her baby. My roommate and I later on grew to be good friends, she being the one with a bucket full of advises, a second time mommy. I always had company in the form of either my husband or my mother during the day time at the hospital. Nights I used to dread them knowing how difficult it is to handle a baby all alone. The moment I used to sit for my dinner, the baby would shriek out loud. I could simply not put her down. She always liked/likes to be carried around. Since I had some stitches 'down there' neither could I sit properly nor sit properly (I just realized well that is the only thing I could not do! So not that bad eh?) I was deprived of my precious sleep for 3 nights in a row and majorly upset since for all small things I had to call the stranger midwife (each time a different one) and not my mother whom I could at least shout at when upset(oops sorry mom!) The strict midwives kept scolding me and kept pushing me to breastfeed the baby. Yes, I went through a hell lot of frustrating hours trying to pump out milk as I was in no way a natural milk-goddess! Today when I look back I want to thank those midwives for having me pushed into deep waters even though I did not know to swim! Breastfeeding is a special experience given that it is a special baby and mommy time. No one and literally so can produce milk other than mommy dearest.

All was not smooth at the beginning. One week into it and I started doubting my abilities as a mother. I cried and cried during evenings especially when she started to be aggressive and refused to drink milk. Well now I know better on how to handle such instances. Every first time mother has to go through this and learn from the experiences...there is simply no escaping this! Alas!

After about a month into this weird 'new to all of us routine' did we 'settle' into another unknown unpredictable one! Well just that we know better now! This really never changed the fact that a new friend of mine visits me too often - worries of a mother (that is what my mother calls it!). I dream about it all the time! She falling from the bed and hurting herself, I forgetting to take her along, people covering her nose with bed sheets in all the excitement...all of these are my dreams! In every dream my baby is as tiny as her nostrils! People may laugh their heads off but yeah I guess these are a 'mother's worries'. Talking about my paranoia did I happen to mention about my samurai skills as a mother? We went to the garden the other day when I happened to see a spider.The poor thing died in a flash of a second as I did my samurai hand wave and killed it. Yes, without any second thoughts about the same! “Dare you come near her”- I mouthed out to the spidey.  Did I also mention about the times when I check my baby's forehead for fever? I do that a lot...hoping against hope not to 'create' one!

One would ask (as I always did) what is the fuss all about? Why is parenting such a beautiful thing? Well for me, for now, they are those amazing, precious, irreplaceable moments spent with my infant baby - her funny expressions, the sounds that she makes, her tiny fingers grasping mine tightly( I know, I know it is just a reflex...but it does make my heart melt a bit every single time she does that), the satisfactory sighs she lets out after eating her food, moments observing how my partner enjoys spending time with the infant and plenty of others.

I know it may get rough and challenging...I know that someday she may get a fever after a vaccination but  just like I battled those non milk flowing initial days, just like I killed the unwanted spider in the garden, just like I wake up fighting my weird expressionist dreams, I would be able to handle these too...

Love conquers all demons.

The first droplets of motherhood

The Birth - From an aching mother’s view ;)

Since many a days I had been waiting, for things to uncover soon,

For my parents to arrive with whole lot of goodies and for a sunny spring time.

The most awaited part was though the arrival of our bundle of joy and boy was I over the moon...

When past midnight my hormones decided to let loose and release that fountain of mine,

I knew it was time but kept my cool whilst others panicked as if it were snowing in June!

Sat inside the Taxi hoping not to soil the leather seat cushions, I held still

Then quickly followed a swift motion of events  leading us into the birthing din.

Routine check ups followed declaring that ‘true’  labor was yet to begin,

Having heard these words repeatedly was I curious to feel the chills!

A lot of hours into it and the devil was yet to show up, an injection here and an injection there, lead medicine over nature win!

My words at this juncture may be few for my cries in the birthing room were mightier,

“Epidural, epidural”  my husband heard many a times, till I bit hard into his hand!

None arrived even after a few good minutes...for me the world seemed to have stopped

When I heard the midwife's amused voice declare - “Sie steht vor der Tür”!

Oh did I forget to mention the whole drama was in German...who could now take a stand?

For now it was too late for the magical injection since she was almost into  worlds hands

Yet again my words will be few for I was in pain and in some more,

till the animated expressions of the midwives forced me back to reality’s core.

We were pushing and pushing till I could no more,

With might galore keep up with my daughters downward journey,

‘Kristeller Handgriff’ followed suit and there she was covered in slime!

Tears of joy gushed down my eyes and I squealed with pure joy!

All of this happened except for the fact that it did not!

I was relieved that there was no pain, I was relieved that she was fine.

All three of us looked at each other in bewilderment, enjoying the new found togetherness...

Enjoying each minute of our ‘Bonding time’...

Our eyes made love, each time shifting focus, shuffling from mother to father to her… her cries filled our hearts, ‘she’ who is a part of us...

Hairy Tale - Fairy Tale?

Exactly a year ago somewhere in February, I decided that my long tresses needed a haircut. It stemmed more out of the fact that I was mentally and physically exhausted hence my idea of some ‘me’ time was to go to a ‘good’ salon and get some pampering done. I was just done with a research paper presentation and needed some ego massaging along with the usual rituals of a scalp massage that accompany the haircut. I choose to head to a nearby salon in Pashan which was run by a celebrity hairstylist. The name of the salon resembled a drink giving it a little more pep. Parking my scooter right outside my destination, I  glanced down to see what I was wearing. I wished I had picked up something more  ‘sophisticated’ , you know something which would do justice to the mood set up by the salon. Then again I remembered what a month I had had!! Drafting the paper umpteen number of times, still not being sure if I had done a good job, no assurances whatsoever from anywhere. It was just me, my eyes, my laptop, my fingers and the pile of books. My hair smelled rotten and I had dark circles all over my eyes. Need I explain more?

I choose to  totally  sympathise with myself and headed with a confident swagger into the glam sham. I had made no appointments whatsoever and had decided to try my luck.  It was a well lit tastefully done decor with fresh flowers which surrounded and adorned a diya right across the entrance. Beyond it the usual counter with some feng shui plants, latest offer pamphlets and their business cards. The lady behind the counter after attending to a call, spoke to me in a divine voice- something that sounded dreamy and full of promises.  I informed her of my wishes to get a haircut and promptly told her that I was there without any prior appointment. She simply smiled and assured me that I need not worry and that their ‘best’ stylist Raj was very much free and could give me a million dollar makeover. I was happy. Flipping through some glamour magazines in the cosy corner where I was patiently waiting for my knight in shining armour with dazzling scissors, I took in all the warmth the place had to offer. Green plants, Fresh tea, colorful flowers and the counters of hair products neatly stacked one above the other. It was a perfect set up! I could buy the expensive jars of products and then take a deep breath and enjoy the fresh oxygen from the plants to calm my nerves.

After a few minutes Raj came and took me over to a big cosy looking black leather chair. “Come Madam,” he said, smiling at me politely. The word ‘madam’ ahaa..at last someone is getting some deserved respect, I thought to myself. He analysed my hair. I looked worried because Raj had huge lines of concern all across his forehead. “Madam, your hair is very dry. Your scalp as well. You should do the anti-dandruff treatment. After which you should do the scalp conditioning treatment ,” he said. “Óh, I hardly get time for all this. But I will surely consider it the next time,” I replied. Now this was a well rehearsed line of mine. I used it every time I went for a haircut, for a facial, well for any beauty treatment. I very well knew what these additional treatments cost and of course these were no permanent fixes! I clutched at my handbag trying to get over a panic attack and hoping that the 2000 rupees I had saved up for this exotic trip of mine were still there and had not magically evaporated.  In the meanwhile Raj took me to another spot around the corner where the hair wash took place. I felt so uncomfortable around the nape of my neck. Yes, the ceramic or plastic or whatever goddamn material that basin was made of, I simply could not stop cursing it and was mentally calculating the minutes for this segment of drama to end. Raj enquired politely, “Madam, are you comfortable?” “Yes,” I spoke hastily - a white lie. Just then I heard some commotion at the reception of the salon.  I heard  a lady  speaking loudly in a shrill voice. “I have an appointment with Raj right now.How dare you give it away to someone else?” She demanded that she be attended to right away. I felt silly, Raj was perplexed but was somehow expecting this. He told me that the manager was new and it was her first day at work today and that since morning all she was doing was messing up all the timings! I nodded along. The lady manager came to me and sounding apologetic  told me she had made a mistake and asked if I could wait for 15 minutes. I had a towel wrapped around my head and was waiting alongside my beloved plants and again reading through magazines. I am a nice human being, I told myself. After a good 25-30 minutes, I was again ushered to the black leather chair. I was already starting to feel cold. Wet hair and a wet towel in an air conditioned room is certainly no good way to keep oneself warm and cosy. Raj apologised and we decided to move on. After a few minutes of discussions as to what kind of a hairstyle I was looking for, I heard yet again a lady in a false accent shouting at the manager. This NRI lady was really very rude and cursed the new manager for letting Raj work his magic on some other client. I cried out loud silently. I was cursing myself as to why I came here at the first place and that too without a prior appointment. Sure enough the lady manager came towards me and started blaming me for not having a prior appointment. She declared I would have to wait yet again. I was furious but then again I paused and repeated to myself... I am a good human being. I took a deep breath and calmly nodded my head. There was no way I could go home in a half done haircut. My picnic was turning into a nightmare. All I could hear was Raj’s voice promising me to give the best look after he was done with the lady. I waited and waited. It was a long wait. By now my dear readers, I am sure you are wondering if at all I could get this one haircut that I wished for. Yes, I did . It was almost evening by then. Who knew a haircut would cost me so much money, time and patience!  

By the time Raj had given the final finishing touches, I looked really glamourous, my hair not smelling rotten anymore. The thousands of mirrors in the salon celebrated my beauty in which they showcased my perfectly falling tresses. I stole glances at myself but could not keep up for more than a few micro seconds. I can never pout or pucker or pull in my cheeks and stare at myself and my beauty when there are other people around me. Too embarrassed I guess! Alas… completely my loss. Finally when I reached the counter to pay I realised there were some hundreds missing and hence offered to pay by card. Of course as the day and my luck would have it, the card swiping machine was not working. The manager slowly pushed in an apology for all the mishaps of the terrible afternoon. I walked towards the ATM and laughed out aloud - half out of despair and half out of amusement.  Everything need not go according to plans, not even at the best of places- I derived out of all this! I went back, paid up, my inner voice telling me to blast that lady right away. The other part of me was convinced that the poor lady had  had enough insults come her way for the day. I took a deep breath and vowed to myself never to come back to this place. Well yes that was what the salon had ultimately lost out to- a customer ! Surprisingly the majority of me felt satisfied and happy with the way  I had reacted to the entire fiasco. I choose not to make her day worse. Human revolution anyone?

Questions

Why am I doing this? Well, really why am I doing this? Why do my fingers itch and I cannot lessen my urge to update my status. What shit does anyone give to what I have been doing my entire day. It turns out people are very concerned. They do ‘like’ my activities. ‘Just back from the shed- cleaning pig shit was never more fun’ – Yes, this is my status and just after a few seconds when I am finally about to log out after all the surfing hard work, I see those red bulbs flashing against the blue backdrop. My ‘pig shit’ status has received more than ten ‘likes’ within a few seconds. My heart felt like it was about to burst out of happiness. Suddenly beating faster, I quit my attempt to come out of the world. As an action-reaction gesture, I start appreciating the pictures or wordings of my wise friends. I also wonder if appreciating something can be much easier than this. Seriously, just by click of a button can anything be appreciated? Is it not sad that the beautiful summer bees and flowers and butterflies don’t have a button attached to their wings? I would really want to appreciate them, time and over again. Damn, how can I forget that they live in the actual world?

Pushed this funny thought out of my rotting brain and moved towards enjoying some narcissistic pleasure. Does it improve our self confidence? Does this virtual oneness not pressurize us for the perfect profile picture, for being the wisdom giver? It is again here that I ask – Why am I doing this? The only answer that comes to me is this- I, as a human being need constant attention and appreciation. I am a full grown child. Praise me, like me, talk to me. Do whatever but please react, for I am living on solid ground where the concept of exchange of positive words of appreciation in the real world seems to be extinct. I would rather not loose myself in the familiarity of my friends or relatives voice over the telephone. I would rather wish them a very happy birthday here, in this very oneness platform. I would rather not meet people over tea and coffee for eye to eye discussions. I would argue and try and prove to my point, then again argue, in this very oneness fortress.

I will share this article. It is once again here that I ask – Did you LIKE my latest update ;)?

Jingle Jangle

We braved the hot winds blowing across our faces,

To lay our hands on the target, we fought the fiercely competitive races.

For, to conquer is equal to surpassing many hardships.

Quoted price – 400, negotiated for 200, bought it for – 250

Our hearts do a small salsa dance along with words of admiration puckered on our lips.

The diagnosis

One evening while coming out of a suburban train station my eyes caught hold of an image. Among several images that I subconsciously happened to chance upon and then discard, this one had to be given a second glance. It was a normal summer evening with lots of hope and wishful thinking for some cool breeze but alas my wishes remained unfulfilled. Replacing this wish for the cool wind was this picture in front of me. It was sudden, refreshing and kind of unbelievable given the surroundings or the situation. It was a tree, but not a normal one. The tree had blue leaves!  a blue bordering on green. The leaves glistened through and caught my maximum attention. I was in awe of what I saw .I simply could not believe it. It was straight out of some fantasy film. My mind wandered for a second thinking maybe I was in some LA-LA Land. Finding myself there I was thrilled and content. Sure there was a spring in my step. The sparkling blue leaved tree gave me happiness so much so that I forgot where I was and missed a step while getting down the platform bridge. Smiling sheepishly I continued my downward spiral almost feeling like an intoxicated drunkard.

The onward journey to my apartment continued. My happy thoughts were interrupted when I saw a swanky sedan by the road side which apparently had an engine break down. “Wait a minute, how could this be possible?”, I seemed to almost ask out aloud. This car looks brand new and must have a ‘no engine breakdown’ guarantee of some sort. The owner looked towards me, almost as if he judged my thoughts. In a very displeased manner looked away instantly. A bad day he probably had, I thought. Carefully moving along, avoiding the cement left over adorning the roads, admiring my skillful hop-jump routine, I almost bumped into someone. Ready to use some cuss words, I happened to look upon. A familiar face stared at me. Both of us were trying to recollect each other in the mini seconds that we had. The conversation started with the ‘H’ questions

A: “Hiiiiiii. Long time (Yes, because I cannot recollect your name). How are you (seems important to ask)?”

B: Hiiiii (should I also include a hi-five for more drama?)I am good

A: Blahh Blahh

B: Blah Blah

A: Bla Bla

B: Bla Bla

A Nice J

B: And some more Blahhhh

A: Bye.

B: Bye.

Feeling overwhelmed and guilty for not able to still recollect her name, I walked the ‘walk of shame’ almost sprinting to get out of the situation. All of a sudden it dawned on me that we were ‘friends’ on a popular social media website.

Happy that I was able to recollect the roots of our ‘friendship’ and glad to be back into this aura, I walked and walked. I suddenly felt hungry. I wanted to have a cheese cake since long. Sure I knew a place that housed some sweet goodies. There it was the perfect blue berry cheese cake sitting inside the cute butter paper that wrapped it. The cake looked so perfect. Its different colored layers nicely complementing each other. I bought it hastily and bit into the seemingly perfect piece of heaven. After the first bite came a startling sense of disappointment. It tasted horrible. My other half of myself seemed to argue meekly “It did look good though”.

Chucking away memories of the bad cheese cake, I made my way inside my small little world shell shocked at the way I managed to keep my apartment so untidy.

That night over a cup of hot chocolate I pondered over the day that was: The breakdown of the luxury sedan, the awkward minutes of my life spent chatting with my ‘friend’ and the disappointing cheese cake. Something seemed very right at first about them. But every bit of these experiences left me at some level, disappointed and unsatisfied.  It was at this point that I was yearning to know if the tree with blue leaves was for real.  I simply could not wait any longer, grabbing my house keys I rushed out. After a few minutes I was in front of that magical tree. I looked carefully at it. Yes the leaves were blue. My optical focus shifted a few meters downwards. There stood a medium sized hoarding with tube lights inside it. I was a tad bit sad. It was after all the neon rays of the hoarding that gave the leaves all its magic. For the magical tree with blue leaves to be simply a tree with leaves all it needed was a shift in focus.

Feeling content with my genius diagnosis I turned back. One question popping up in my mind “Is it what seems to be or is it what it is?”

Teile / Parts

                            Teile

Herr  geht morgens spazieren. Seine Frau fragt wozu ?

Braucht man keinen Grund  zu haben, keine Antwort , kein ‚Dazu‘

Ein Muster ist nicht alles , was gemacht wird.

Es macht das Leben lebbar – Das Wirr – Warr.

Teile des Auges reflektiert das Kaleidoskop,

Teile sind manchmal schöner, nicht das Ganze !

                                          Parts

The need to go for a walk in the morning hues need not be justified.

A reason, an answer is far from needed.

Whatever is done is never a pattern.

It defines life – The Unplanned.

It’s just a part of your eyes, that a kaleidoscope reflects,

Parts are sometimes more beautiful than the Whole. 

Ohne Sonnenschein

Es ist schoener ohne Sonnenschein- heisst es ,

Schatten ueberall auf der Erde.

Zusammenzuzucken brauchen meine Augen nicht.

Es gibt es nicht - die Sonne !

Woraus ich meine Kraft ziehe? - Der kuehle Wind, der kommende Regen, die gewoelkten Wolken

Ich warte geduldig -  ich , ein durstiges Ich.

KL- 9414

This June brought me a trip to my old buddy, my native roots - Kerala ! After a heart stopping scary flight from Mumbai to Coimbatore, I was very close to reaching Gods own Paradise. Yes ,  flights are scary. I believe people don't admit it. The mere thought of not having a firm grounding beneath, sends me scouting for banyan trees, behind which i can hide so peacefully! Take offs are adrenaline pumping in a bad way and landings, well they are just about finding ground and applying brakes way too hard . I will surely dedicate some day a detailed article regarding the nightmare called Plane journeys.

Coming back to my original story. I reached the winding lanes of  'Nalepilly', a small village near 'Palakad'. With open arms I welcomed the sounds of coconut trees swishing from left to right and then again right to left. The heat in Kerala reduced to a mere negligent level, it felt great to be a part of this side of the country.
I remember how we used to crib as kids during our Kerala trips. My grandmother lives in a very primitive house. Its so primitive that the mud house welcomes all kinds of creepy crawlies, has an anti - tube light policy, is far far away from any restaurant, far from anything city like. We as kids with our half baked Malayalam, snobbish attitudes of being 'Bombaykaras' (people from Bombay) , we used to wait desperately to return by the next available Kurla- Coimbatore express! These memories make me laugh so hard.

This time around it had been a little different. Beginning with my grandmothers tales of Mahabharata and Ramayana, i was once again a kid, listening with awe and an improved concentration span.
   I never really cared to observe the rich flora and fauna that my grandmothers place offers. It, being so far away from civil world, the birds in all shapes and sizes and colors flock the lemon tree that stands so tall in front of the house. I wish I knew which birds these were, just like my niece and nephew, who know all the different species of birds that exists ever! Really the birds were a lovely sight and so were the elegant lizards, the chameleons and even the dogs that were housed in the huge bungalows. The bungalows remind me of the short visits we made to all the relatives houses. 12 different ones (Ha! Beat that). Eating and drinking refreshments 12 times in a row, talking about the weather, the next kid to be married off, etc took a whole lot out of me ! I was exhausted by the end of it. A thorough pleasant meet i must say after these many  months.  Well we 'Bombaykaras' are after all real experts at making these flying visits.

I wonder how healthy the people in Kerala must be, for they breathe oxygen freshly produced from the greens around. They consume fresh coconut oil , do not eat junk food. God bless Kerala !

My cherry on the top of a white chocolate cake moment was when i spotted a snake gliding away graciously around the mango tree :)

PS :- Just in case you wondered what the title of this write up means- well its the number plate of the royal white ambassador in which we roam around since childhood whenever we are in wonderland Kerala !

One fine Morning

A hot summer morning- a cuppa in her hand,

Stretching the tired muscles she reaches out as high as she can.

A look out of the window with a slight smile,

 Sips of the morning elixir, smoothens the pillow creases across her face.

She peeks, bends over slightly to catch a glimpse of the little yellow flowers.

The little yellow flowers on the concrete pavement they lie,

So fresh so cheerful, so oh my my !

They fall from tens to thousands, graciously from their green abodes,

The world around them smiling- the good old dancing Uncle John tree,

 the chimneys and  the squirrels running from hither to thee .

O what a wonderful sight it is for her to see- the pleasing nature in all its glory.

She peeks, bends over slightly to catch a glimpse of the little yellow flowers.

The little yellow flowers on the concrete pavement they lie,

So fresh so cheerful so oh my my !

About ‘Being’!

About ‘Being’!

The sun shines hard through my window pane, but I am cold.

The colourful spring is on its way, but to me the world is all black and white

Am I alone, even if I am with someone?

There certainly is a difference between ‘I’ and ‘us’.

Is it for me to ignore or to realise?

That I am always going to be alone in this world, even when I am surrounded by many. 

The Hands that always remains soft

The Hands that always remain soft

The Night in its full glory, so dark just as her life

A peep into her ‘Home’ - The vessels waiting for her and somebody waiting for the fresh dinner

By day transforming herself and rushing to work after the fulfilled commands

By night preparing the sumptuous dinner and then letting his naked body on top of hers

Time for a break? No way...

Early morning she must fearfully remove of what stinks, of what remains

Can he make something very elementary, like tea for example?

A mirror in front of him he must hold and slowly observe himself,

He is rotten, he is black, he is full of guilt... and his hands?

They are but of course soft and will remain so.

Of many a small things

Of many a small things 

my yellow nail paint speaks to me , 

my tooth brush tries to do the same,

i just tell them let me be,

because without you it’s not the right game.

the trees dance and so do the small twigs,

the flowers try to hold on,

of what feels like strong alchohol,the winds take too strong a swig

i wander alone , incomplete without you , through the lush green lawn.

what do i admire ?   the stars, the moon?

its not there , your intense gaze , your kiss,

the hands that hold me , its not there ... that boon..

i am longing for you ,  waiting to experience that pure bliss.

its not a poem , its the song my heart sings,

of loneliness , of separation , of many a small things.

come and hold me , come and hold me , for if you will,

tears will swell up and my heart will burst out crying... 

Just when you thought....

Just when you thought....

Taking a right turn on a busy street is no less than manoeuvring ones way within life. Pause, look here and there, and proceed carefully. But hell no! Who does that? We race the accelerator, hoping no one comes our way. Well hope is a good thing. We have succeeded several times and many a times crossed the junction trusting our instincts and trusting others instincts more so. But the law of Probability takes over and just when you thought no one was around there comes a much expensive and faster one, closely whisking past you. You have your moment thereafter, a warm jittery feeling spreading across your chest. One is a little shaky at the wheel, but survival is something you truly understood today. The feeling vanishes within 30 seconds and you start breathing polluted air at a much normal slower pace.

Cheers, cause you have survived one more day..

So there is ‘ YOU’, crossing the same old junction. Crosses it and achieves a great sense of satisfaction, only to be behind some other bum. Ah ! Finally an empty road and surprisingly a bus waiting by the sidewalk, not in the middle lane! YOU wants to go past it, go past the big fellow and just when YOU thinks he had almost done it, the bus starts to move.

Now you should not be surprised, because this is how it works. So yes it is always going to be you, who runs over glass shreds on the roads of the battlefield called ‘Life’. You need to make way for others at times. Braking need not necessarily curb accidents. Whereas ‘letting go’ may. At the end of the day though a visit to a garage is a must!

For the English readers - Water

Water

When I wish to feel you, you are cold.

How deep you actually run, you never let me know.

You are to me, sometimes a tear, sometimes Thirst.

But what a sense of calm you gift me, the moment I see a reflection of the golden moon on a glittery night, in you!

Von oben nach unten

Von oben nach unten

Was ist diese Vogelperspektive?

Keine Ahnung, da ich keinen Vogel bin

Einen direkt zu fragen,

habe ich mich entschieden.

Ich ging oben auf die Terasse um zu schauen, wenn ich einen finde,

Da wartete er auf mich, auf meine Frage.

Ich zu ihm : „Oben im klaren Himmel müsste es schön sein ?

Mit entbreiteten Flügeln kannst du hoch und fortfliegen, O du glückliches Vöglein!

Nur wir müssen alles auf die Erde ertragen , wir Menschen

Ohne Flügel, keine Fliegen. Nur eiserne Bände im Herzen“.

Er zu mir : „Manchmal ist es auch grau im Himmel, manchmal scheint die Sonne hart.

Die Blaue bleibt nicht für immer , mein Liebchen.

Du in deinem Leben, ich in meinem,

Das ist doch die Gottesart !“

Auβer des Horizonts.

Warum ist es mir kalt, auch wenn die Sonne draußen hart scheint ?

Alles ist mir schwarz und weiß, auch wenn der farbige Frühling ankommt ?

Bin ich doch alleine, auch wenn ich zu zweit bin ?

Es gibt doch einen Unterschied zwischen ich und wir.

Ist es zu bewältigen oder es einzusehen?

Dass ich immer auf diese Erde allein sein werde, auch wenn die Gelächter tausender Menschen sich um mich herumlaufen ..

Winter-nächte

Winter-nächte

Neblig ist die Nacht

kalt du und ich

der wehende Wind zu uns kommend

murmeln unsere Kuesse dazwischen..

Der goldene Schmetterling

Der goldene Schmetterling

Wo die Häuser eng und klein sind,

Wo das Leben ziemlich tot ist,

Wohnt eine Familie mit einem Kind.

Eine Frage klar auf seinem Antlitz

“ In schwieriger Zeit wohnen wir nicht?”

Keine Freunde die Kindheit zu genieβen,

Spielte das Kind jedoch mit Einsamkeit,

Die Mutter mit Sorgen riesigen,

Der gelbe Stern auf der Brust getragen, kaum mit Neuigkeit,

Erbarmte sich mit dem Kleinchen.

Das Ganze, ein Schmetterling aus einer Ecke sieht,

Hoppelt mit Freude zu dem einsamen Kind,

Den ganzen Tag mit ihm spielte und blieb.

Zu Hause war besser jetzt die Luft und der Wind,

Da, sang die beide ein glückliches Lied.

Nachts schlief die Familie unruhig.

“Kommt der Einbrecher morgen und nimmt uns weg von unserem warmen Zuhause?”:fragte das Kindchen.

Der Vater : “ Mein Sohn, morgen wird die Sonne vielleicht scheinen, setzt dein Leben fort trotz, sei tapfer und mutig”.

Mit dieser neuen Hoffnung schliefen der Schmetterling und das Kleinchen,

Warm und ruhig neben einander.

Der Sonnenaufgang ziemlich blaβ,

Kam den nächsten Tag voller Nebelstreife.

An dem Fenster das Kind saβ,

Er bemerkte : “Ach, solch eine Nebelstreife? Die Sonne raucht vielleicht eine groβe Pfeife!”.

Auf dem Schulter des Kindes wartete der Falter auf den erwarteten Einbrecher.

“ Sie kommen, sie kommen” der Schmetterling zu dem Kind rief.

Frühstückte die Familie ungewarnt – hätte der Falter eine laute Stimme!

Die Türe durch die Einbrecher abgebaut, Haβ auf ihrem Gesicht so sehr tief.

Lieβ ihre Brote, die erschrockene Gesichter,

Und leise fiel das Wasser aus ihren Gläsern runter.

Die Gewalt und Zwang der Mächtigen,

Nahm die Familie weg von ihrem warmen Zuhaus.

Keine letzte Chancen.

Der zerbrochene Teller, das vernichtete Haus,

Verlor seine Seele, verlor sein Gebrauch.

Das Kind zu sich leise verspricht,

“ Du hast noch deinen besten Freund. Du hälst ihn ja schon warm in deine Hand sanft”.

Das Kind öffnet seine Hand mit Gefühlen gemischt,

Da lag der Falter behindert und dampf.

“ Er will mir was sagen” dachte das Kind.

Nahte sein Ohr und hörte eine leise Stimme,

“ Überleben wirst du alles, mein Freund, verlor keine Hoffnung,

Was aber unrecht ist, bleibt nicht für lange,

Der Einbrecher hat die gefährlichste Weltanschaung,

Da, er bis jetzt die Welt nie angeschaut hat.

Tränen in Augen, nahm der letzte Abschied das Kind,

Von dessen, der ihm half, in Freude und Not.

Wie die Sonne, ein hoffnungsvoller goldener Ring,

In seiner Hand, lag er tot,

Der goldene Schmetterling.