#poem

A Misfit

Mother witch pounded again
Halloween night is upon us
the completion of all tasks
will get you the worst witch award
Don’t use the forbidden words
please and thank you and such
Practice your witchcraft
flickering of candles
and inflicting warts

Petunia, the reluctant witch in training,
last year was disbarred
for she couldn’t bring out her bad
So this year she will try to fit in
to Bring glory to her family of villains

Uncovered her new broom
stuffed some tricks up her sleeves to bloom
appeared from behind a thicket
almost looking wicked
Spooked some
Screamed loud
Turned into a black cat and frowned

Then came her final task
of casting a spell
and kissing a village 
to turn it into rubble, ruins and ashes 
That’s when she forgot
the most important rule of all
Kissing of the witch doesn’t bring bad luck
if her heart has even a string of love

And so she lost
for, her kind heart was her biggest flaw
Became the laughing stock of all
Witches teased and clamored
Here goes Petunia
The best witch with manners.


Clearly Halloween is on my mind. My daughter wants to be a witch this year and so Christine’s prompt got this out of me.

https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/130149259/posts/11183

#poem, Poem

Step Aside Stereotypes

Photo by Ivandrei Pretorius from Pexels

Step aside, all stereotypes
don’t label inks
she doesn’t just wear the color purple and pink
no more forbidding blues and blacks
she won’t take any flack.

Step aside stereotypes
this is a different kind of fairy land
This Cinderella wears sneakers
and doesn’t sit on bleachers
She’s her own kind of Snow White
who doesn’t need a prince
for she can rescue herself alright.
Don’t call her Sleeping Beauty 
for she prefers a name
blue eyes and white skin are not her only fame.

So step aside stereotypes
She wears ballet shoes
and isn’t scared of walking on cinders.
She chooses to be well put or unkempt 
chooses to smile, breathe fire, and sometimes even repent.
Her scars and contusions are her pride
and for all this she doesn’t apologize.

In response to Christine’s Daily Writing Prompt. https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/130149259/posts/10879

Mom Jam

Dear mommy, it’s payback!

Photo by Engin Akyurt from Pexels

Days like today are just too many and too much

The earth is spinning too fast and I can’t keep up without a fuss.

I want to quit

I want to opt out

I am not ready to climb and to risk another dime

I am tired

I want to go to bed

I am sick and

I need some rest

Hah! Who are you kidding? 
You are a mother now and all the sufferings you caused  as a kid are coming back to haunt you now.

Et Al., Thoughts

An Immigrant’s Misplaced Identity?!

August 15th, India’s Independence Day. In the regular run of life I completely forgot, until my feeds on Facebook lighted up with the “tri-color”. How could I forget such an important day, a day which was an integral part of my childhood?

This got me thinking – what made this day important? Was it the date itself or the celebrations, the flag hoisting and the patriotic songs which went with it? Never mind the reason, by forgetting the day have I become “un” Indian?

What makes a person a countryman(woman)? Is it the color and design of one’s passport or the life which is prudently woven? Is it the place you were born in or the place with which you share your successes and failures? Is it the country you “belong to” or the country you “live in”?

After 12 years of migration out of my country, while I may still “belong” to India, I “live” in America. I share my successes and failures here. I Celebrate July 4th with all the zeal and paraphernalia. I enjoy and am part of the fireworks, the three day holiday, the sales inspired shopping spree. I solemnly stand and sing the “land of the brave and country of the free”, holding the red blue and white, albeit, sometimes messing up the lyrics. Still, when someone asks me the customary question of where am I from? I know they are expecting and so I reply, “India”. “un” American?

That’s my misplaced identity and for a lot many like me. Simply put, we belong to a country but we don’t live in it. We live in a country but we don’t belong to it. Alas, human emotions and reality is not always simple and maybe this one time, it’s good.

I may forget dates and lyrics but I remember ME. This “me” which is made up of everything I have in these two countries. One, where I hold sacred my past, my parents and the other, where I shape my future, my kids. It’s not a choice, it can’t be a choice. It’s about embracing the two.

Forgetting my past is selfish, just like forgetting my present is ungrateful. So, while it sometimes feels like a case of misplaced identities, it’s never a situation of misplaced loyalties. I am loyal to both worlds; one given to me and one created by me.

Wrote this piece a month back but couldn’t get myself to share it until today. Would love to hear from at least some of you.