Skip to main content

Nonu -Two months old





It is a great sense of love, admiration and pride to watch the young one growing. She has started showing some signs of knowing me and her mother as she stretches her arms upwards as if to attempt to cuddle to me. I do not know if she does it with the intent of hugging me, out of love, or it is just her way of exercising her limbs, it any which way looks so endearing. There is one thing however, which one as an adult can learn from a kid, which is guilt-free happiness of Epicurean order. Even when so small to depend on others for all her practical requirement, the baby is not the one to make compromises, she will smile only when she is happy, not to make you feel happy. So much honesty and trueness, hope she will be able to save those smile because I want to smile in times to come, as she slips into Dale Carnegie smiles, at least for her Papa, or Baba, whatever she decides to call me.


I remember, I used to spend long afternoons with her mother over never-ending cups of coffee during my younger days, but then she was (and is) an enchanting conversationalist and it was maximum four hours at a stretch (any thing beyond could seriously lead to argument, not for any valid reason, but may be because of too much of a good thing) but with this little creature, it is different, she will not talk to me, does nothing with an intent to please me, all her efforts are to please herself, and out of experience, I can say, that I can forever keep on watching her face, some time for hours before it breaks into a wail or a smile. I do not know why I could see and feel all emotions in her smiles, does she as yet understands emotions or is it just some silly exercise for her laugh muscles preparing her for the time to come. When she does not so well understand the world around her, will she someday understand me? Will I always remember to indulge in her exuberance without ever attempt to amend, to rectify. Sometime, it is a pain to think that she will not remember any of this love of mine when she grows up. But then, Ships are meant to leave the shore, and birds are meant to fly away.
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Bahubali 2- The Conclusion- Movie Review

We are living in an extremely cause-heavy world where causes - real and imagined cloud our minds. I saw this in the case of the movie - Beauty and The Beast. There the quarrel of the social commentators was that it explored the gay angle of one of the characters only briefly, only fleetingly. There can be nothing more absurd than that. You are demanding more from an artist than possibly he can offer. Art is a profession of lonely persuasion, and it serves the purpose its creator desires it to serve. Nothing more and nothing less. It is sad and unfortunates that the liberals, which in Indian context largely translates to Leftists, insists that art is nothing but a vehicle that should be provided to them for their political agendas and narratives to ride on. It is like insisting that the reference to the Negroes in the "The Great Gatsby" should have been expanded to cover racism in detail. The brief episode was merely to substantiate the character and nothing more. Just as cre…

Resurrecting Hinduism- Without Embarrassment

I have been pondering about the sense of despondency, the sense of shame which has been imposed on the Hindu thoughts in Indian society. Every act of faith has to be explained, justified. When partition happened, Muslims fought and obtained an independent Nation, while the other large chunk of population, which, in spite of numerical supremacy, was subjugated for centuries, got India. In line with inherent openness and flexibility of Hinduism, India became a secular nation. This is a matter of pride, since it acknowledged the basic secular nature of Sanatan Dharm. However, as things would evolve, vested political interests considered India as unfinished agenda standing in the path of a religious empire being built world-wide. Through a well-calculated intellectual conspiracy of neglect and vilification, it came to a stage that modern Hindus where embarrassed of their religion and apologetic of their faith. This neglect also resulted in the religion being left to the guardianship of un…

The Unbearable Agony of Unwritten Words

The weather has changed. Skies are clear once again, fog lifted. Azure, cloudless skies; trees bare. The dawn descends with the shy, blush of a fair, newly-wed woman. The days are not yet jaundiced with the pale, bright yellowness of the summers. There is a distinct hint of red in the yellow. 
Writing is sporadic, very less. A few intermittent blog post. Unwritten words sit heavily on the soul of a writer. To accept oneself as a writer is to embark on a dangerous path. It is a solitary profession and a hard one at that. 
I read to prepare to write. I tell myself. Be at some point, even reading has to make way for writing. Writing is not a quick job. It takes time, time and sitting all agitated inside and all peaceful outside, the incongruous internal and external world pulling one apart, in diverse directions. Writing takes time. One needs to tie that heavy stone to the neck of a reckless, wandering mind and allow it to sink to the depths. Bubbles of air escaping to the surface, a brief…