Dear grandfather,

As a child, full of innocence,

Not knowing what to do or what to say

Tathagaru, you thought me 

That intelligence is the most important , be it night or day

You inspired me to learn, 

Encouraged my love for books

You made me feel like I'm allright

In a world which constantly critizised me for my looks

You made me want to know, 

To explore all the curiosities in the world

You made me raise my voice 

Whether in outrage, joy or surprise 

You inspired by your example

And made me want to achieve

You helped me unfold my wings

And gave me the courage to be me

You keep stealing my books 

And arguing with me 

I keep messing up your hair 

But I guess that's how it was to be

Now I'm miles away 

In a different country and culture

But I want you to know this on this day

That to me, you are always a hero

A hoarder's memories

Its when you start packing for studying overseas that you realize how hard it is to leave stuff behind. It's then that you are faced with the hard decision - the nightmare for every hoarder - what to pack? what to leave? 
As I walk around and try to put things in, I am overwhelmed with emotions - How do I leave behind these precious things - time capsules which hold so many stories and memories?

Do I leave behind the small black purse studded with tiny glass mirrors encased in orange embroidery, when it brings back to my mind the time I bought it in Mantralayam - saw it and instantly fell in love with this perfect accessory for the 13 year old girl I was then ? How do I leave it when I can still see how amused my family was when I refused to let go of it for the rest of the trip?

Do I leave behind my books which are tearing apart at the seams because of the countless hours spent reading and re-reading them? These are my friends who I laughed, cried and dreamed with, utterly lost in worlds and lives which are as real to me as my own. 

How can i even think of leaving this old perfume bottle behind? It was the first perfume my dad bought her, over 20 years ago, still full because we are yet to find a reason precious enough to use it .

A part of my cupboard is filled with dupattas - colourful shawls fraying at the edges and faded here and there. After all, these were the very dupattas my mother wore when she was my age -  A tangible connection between two 19 year olds seperated by decades of life. 

Well, what about the decorations on the walls? These colourful pieces of art are the testimony to countless hours of effort. They bring back to mind the joyful satisfaction of having created beauty in different forms.

And lets not forget the furniture. The beautiful antique book shelves and carvings passed on from generation to generation, the sturdy wood table which my father once studied for HIS exams on, the chairs that my great-grandfather used in his office and the most beautiful of them all -  my gorgeous queen sized rosewood bed, complete with 4 pillars and delicate carvings on its high head boards. This bed makes you feel like royalty and has been the site of several games including "lets build a fort" and hide and seek. You see, my mom bought this bed with her when she got married to dad and carefully decorated its many carving spaces with pictures that she lovingly collected from postcards.

Do i leave behind my life sized teddy bear Jaggu and my favourite childhood games ? Or the art supplies bought during my "artsy phase"? The many friendship bands I collected faithfully from the different people who were a part of my life at different stages? The colourful woollen ones I made ? How can I possibly even take this intense feeling of "myness" which I get the minute I step into my room or the warm feeling of home which I am submerged in the minute I step through the gates?

If I think about all the material things I am forced to leave, it will probably run into pages and pages. You see, the objects that we own are precious to us not just because of their physical value, but also because of the tales they tell and the smiles and tears they bring back. They suffuse us with a warm glow when we just spare them a thought. 

But we do need to let go of them at one point right? We need to let go so we may welcome new things into our lives. No, they will not be forgotten for the stories they hold will forever be alive within our hearts. But at some points we do have to let go.
And so we let go....
After all, You cant pack them all! :P

Nostalgia

Seeing it all, as if for the very first time
The green of the plants. the tan of the ground.
The shine of the marble, the beauty of the wood.

The lines on her face, the piece of silk
Covering her chemo- baldness
As she walks around the porch,
In a path unchanged in decades

The silver in his hair, the humour in his eyes
He Makes a grand gesture
As I descend down the stairs.
His way of greeting his princess.

An adorable smile on her face, 
As she turns from the stove
And holds her arms out for a hug.
"Good morning cutie pie", she says
In a tone filed with love and joy

The closed door to his room,
Behind which he sleeps
In my mind's eye, the walls are no barrier
As I see him clearly, sprawled out on the bed.
A peaceful smile on his face.

19 days and counting
To-do lists running into pages
Agitation a familiar churning
Emotions, a confused ball of wool

At this point, excitement is overwhelmed
By a cacophony of sadness, fear and nostalgia
Spinning the mind in circles
But, somehow normal

Part of the process, I realize
Temporary after all
For which girl wouldn't feel likewise
When doors opening require old doors to close?

FOR SHE LOVES NOT A MAN, BUT A WOMAN

Note : Ever since I wrote this poem, I have received various responses ranging from " Are you trying to come out", to - "You're going to hell". Let me tell you why I chose this issue.
The world is ripping apart at the seams with the hatred and cruelty of one group of humans against an other, on various issues. We are becoming so rigid in our beliefs that we hate to see the differences in others which contradict what we believe in. We fail to realize that if we truly believed in something, we wouldn't require external validation. While homosexuality is slowly being accepted, there are still so many homophobic people amongst us who are willing to kill someone for the crime of loving another against societal norms. Instead, lets understand that one's sexuality needn't threaten us just because its different from ours , Lets embrace human diversity and live with each other, instead of opposed to each other.

Her heart is strong, True and warm

The love she spreads, a sheer delight

But THIS heart has erred, ‘they’ say

For she loves not a man, but a woman

She loves not a man , but a woman!!!

Oh what great a crime!

Her days are spent spreading joy

Her time, she gives freely, to those in need

Seeking to add a little bit of shine

Even in times when its beyond her means

But OH NO! shun her, Don’t let her near!

For she loves not a man , but a woman

At work, she’s a Whiz

Her every creation , the fruit of great dedication

Her achievements? OH! Plenty and great!

Her record? Unquestionable!

But OH NO! Shun her! Don’t let her near!

For she loves not a man , but a woman

Her friends know her for the angel she is

Never too far, a constant star

Shes always there- in rain and shine

A strong shoulder,  A sweet smile,  A warm hug

But OH NO! Shun her! Wish her dead!

For she loves not a man , but a woman

A caring daughter, A loving sister

A faithful partner , and a remarkable friend

Beauty, grace, charm, style,

Strength, love , brains – A charming delight

But OH NO! None of these matter!

Shun her, Shame her, Wish her dead!

For you see….. She loves not a man , but a woman !