Skip to main content

The Solitude of an Only Child


She is kind
And soft and pink
Like the Cinderella, she adores.
Though unlike her
Glass slippers,
She wears a heart of glass,
A transparent, shining
But brittle heart.

The sun spreads out
On the terrace
With slothful arrogance,
As trees
With barren branches
Watch across the window
in melancholy.

I suddenly wake up
From the siesta,
To find her riding
Her bicycle on the terrace,
In circles
On a journey which
Takes her nowhere.

She rides in circles
And talks in riddles,
To herself,
Sometimes pretending to be
A teacher, sometimes a student
Like the princess
In the fable of sleeping princess
Doomed to the sixteen years
Of lonely growing up
In a forlorn fortress,
Albeit without even
The company of three
Loving fairies.

With an confounding
Feeling of affection and gloom
I watch her
As I recollect
The broken glass pieces
Spread randomly
Across the innards
Of my being,
A heart broken
Across the years of my own
Merciless, solitary childhood,
Which I have long since
Pretended never to have happened
But which
Returns to me
With a sadistic, evil smile on its face
And beats on the doors,
With ugly, heavy and hairy arms
As the weak latches
Shakes in the fear
Of impending defeat.

Will I, her father,
be able to transform
My self into one of those
Many coloured fairies,
And be a company to my child
Filling up her days
With companionship
Never leaving an empty, silent moment
In her life
Until she is old enough
For a handsome prince
To gallop across
On a dashing white horse
With grand mane,
To climb up the fortress walls
And kiss her out of a lonely childhood
And walk with her
Into the horizon
Beyond the rainbows;
Where the sounds
Of laughter, of music
And dancing with abandon
Flows agains the banter of friends
And glasses and cutleries clink
With welcome?

This is the question
Which I need to answer today
For her sake and mine.










Comments

I am a single daughter too and now a mom to a single child too but trust me it is not always a "doomed" space !!
saket suryesh said…
Yes Pooja, I agree not always. But on those occasions when you find yourself alone among siblings and are reminded of blood being thicker than blood, your loneliness hits you pretty hard. Thanks for the comment, do stay in touch .

Popular posts from this blog

बुद्धिजीवियों की बारात

बुद्धिजीवियों की बारात
शरद जी रिटायर हो चुके थे। आधार का भय आधारहीन मान कर आधार बनवा चुके थे, और पेंशन प्राप्त कर के भोपाल मे जीवनयापन कर रहे थे। एक बार बिहार जा कर शरद जी नरभसा चुके थे, पुन: नरभसाने का कोई इरादा था नहीं, सो मामाजी के राज में स्वयं को सीमित कर के रखे हुए थे। इस्लाम आज कल ख़तरे मे नही आता था, संभवत: इमर्जेंसी के बाद से, इस्लाम सबल हो चुका था, और कल निपचती जींस और लोकतंत्र के ख़तरे मे रहने का दौर चल रहा था। न्यू मार्केट के कॉफ़ी हाऊस मे चंद बुद्धिजीवी लोकतंत्र पर आए संकट पर चर्चा कर लेते थे, जोशी जी वहाँ भी नहीं जाते थे। एक दफे वहाँ के मलियाली वेटर्स को जोशी जी के हिंदी लेखक होने का पता चल गया और उन्होंने जोशीजी को यिंदी यिम्पोजीशन के विरोध मे कॉफ़ी देने से मना कर दिया था। कहाँ शरदजी सरस्वती से ब्रह्मप्रदेश तक लिखना चाहते थे और कहाँ उन्हे बड़े तालाब के उत्तर भाग का लेखक घोषित कर दिया गया था। इस से क्षुब्ध जोशी जी अपने बग़ीचे मे टमाटर उगा रहे थे। जानने वाले कहते हैं कि इसके पीछे उनकी मँशा महान किसान नेता बन कर उभरने की थी, किंतु उन्हे पता चला कि आधुनिक किसान नेता किसानों को …

Know the Naxals- A brief look at the History

There have been many debates of late on the television, in the wake of the arrests of those who are now increasingly mentioned as the Urban Naxals. I am both shocked and amused at the same time to look at the audacity of the sympathizers of Naxal terrorism, in all their starched Saris and handloom Kurtas, when they hide behind the same constitution, that the want to overthrow. They are shrill, sophisticated, eloquent and deriding. They hate the common folks, and their disdain for those who work, create and make a living, peeps through their elitist smiles. They are mostly ideologues (yes, that is some work for sustenance in the modern scheme of things), academics and well, ostensibly, writers and poets. The fact remains that when communism is the scheme of things, Naxal notices mentioning Jan Adaalats in the villages of Chattisgarh too become work of art, and corpses hanging from the electricity poles, become equivalent of art work on the roof of Sistine chapel.
The other day, Ms. Arun…

A Husband's Views On Karvachauth

Today is the day of Indian, or should I say, Hindu festival of Karvachauth, much popularized by Bollywood. Initially a festival of Northern India, now it is widely celebrated. The festival is primarily of a day of fasting, observed by married women, praying for the long life of their husbands. As is the practice, the festival is marked by severe criticism every year by over-jealous atheists, fanatic feminists and bigoted secularist, who claim that the festival is patriarchal, regressive and anti-woman. If one considers those rants to be true, one would believe that there is huge amount of physical and emotional trauma that womenfolk are subjected to, in order to get them around to fast on the day.  However, if one were to visit any of the markets in Delhi, the scenario is quite contrary. You will find happy, joyous women on the streets of Delhi, excitedly visiting beauty parlors, with their husbands dragged themselves behind them, holding the kids as wife gets Mehandi to her hands- do…