What makes a Mother?

 

This Sunday will be celebrated as Mother’s Day almost throughout the world. Across the world, children (and dads) will buy presents and flowers for the mums in their lives and also make a special meal for them. Facebook and other social media will be filled with photos and Mothers Day wishes and mums all over will realise how much they are loved.

 

My mum lives far away in India, so other than wishing her via phone, there’s not much I can do, but we do try to take S’ mum and aunt (who is a second mum to him) out for a meal on that day.

 

So what makes a mother? Is biology the only reason someone gets the privilege of being called a mum? What about adoptive parents? They don’t give birth to their young ones but spend far more time and effort in nurturing them, so are they not also mums? Take S’ aunt for example – she never married as a result of a handicap she incurred as a young girl, the result of a sickness. She has always lived with S’ family and has been an equal partner in looking after and nurturing S and his sister. So she’s another mum we honour.

 

So in honour of all mums out there, here’s something I wrote….

What Makes a Mother

 

The first person we know in this world,

She is the one who makes our world unfurl.

She loves us unconditionally and with balance,

Guides us through life with infinite patience.

She is a friend, philosopher and guide, all rolled in one

She is your one guiding star, she is your sun.

She brightens up your life, she fills your world with laughter

For every question you may have, she has the right answer.

We all know that God can’t be everywhere, so he made mothers

She, who is the zypher, the anchor of your life.

To all the mothers in the world, those who gave birth and those who didn’t, but are mother figures in our lives, here’s wishing you a very Happy Mother’s Day!

As for me, I need to wait till Sunday to see what GG & BB have in store for me….

 

 

 

 

Writers Block

For this post, I sat down for almost two days thinking of something to write, but words would not just come out! I was so frustrated and close to giving up when this poem came out about my current situation

Writers Block

 

My mind is a blank

Words stop from forming at a snap

I have a severe case of writer’s block!

My mind stuck between a hard place and a rock.

Ideas keep flitting about,

But none seem to root and sprout.

I keep reading hoping for a spark of inspiration

But nothing comes to mind, resulting in loads of mental perspiration

My mind is a blank, as a sheet of paper

Words stuck inside, waiting to come out…

From my Window

As I look out of my window,

I see the world ebb and flow.

 

From early in the morning to late at night,

Rushing and moving as if in a fight.

 

People rushing to work, students going to school,

Not looking, not feeling, just going through the motions.

 

I also see the old and weary, moving slowly,

As they reach their twilight years, waiting and watching, looking and seeing.

 

The young and the old, I see them from my window,

As I watch the world ebb and flow….

She….

jacqueline-kennedy-onassis-first-lady-quote-i-am-a-woman-above

She

She is poise, she is grace,
She who faces adversity in the face.

She who reaches for the sky, yet,
She who is made to cry.

She who is your first nurturer and teacher,
She who always spurs you on.

She is your friend, philosopher and guide,
She takes everything in her stride.

She is you and you and you out here,
She is every woman out there.

She who holds up half the sky,
She is a woman, who holds her head high!.

The Sounds of Home

This poem was inspired by the incredibly noisy neighbourhood I live in Mumbai. In my last trip, I realised, compared to Singapore, my home was super noisy and it took me a couple of days to push that noise to the back, but it was quite a difficult few days. Then coming back to Singapore, the silence also took some time to get used to!

The Sounds of Home

The sounds start early,

As the birds begin to wake up in the tree;

The ringing of the bell of the milkman,

The shouts of the newspaper man,

This is how we wake-up in good old Mumbai.

Then the real noisy business of the day starts their cries,

The children coming to the school next door,

Their voices eager and ready to soar,

The college students who congregate in the lane below;

Whiling their time between classes, ebb and flow.

Then of course, who can forget,

The noise of vehicles, that drive past like a jet,

This not including the general cacophony of sounds;

Like the cawing crows and vendors in the background,

These are the sounds that define my neighbourhood,

These are the sounds of my childhood,

All day, from morning to night, there is a steady stream of competing sounds,

Till they fade away from your consciousness as the noise resounds.

It’s only when you come back after a while,

You realise that your beloved city, your loved isle,

Is actually quite noisy, but you care not a tome,

You love it anyway, coz, these are the sounds of home!