Dec 12, 2008

Help Me Remember

Lord, help me remember, when I feel It's a chore,
the time will come when I'll hold her no more
asleep on my chest (the crib refused,
the blanket, the pacifier, gone unused).
What better place is there to lay her head
than against my heart, my arms her bed?
For infants grow up and leave us behind
with only memories left to remind
us of midnight walking and predawn rocking,
of soft, helpless babies unable to sleep.
So, Lord, make me patient and keep me awake
while I cradle this child, and don't let me take
for granted the moments I spend in the night
with this baby--Your gift, my joy, my delight.

Who Else But A Mother

Who first loves and nurtures us and takes care of every need,
as she accepts into her life someone new to bathe and feed?

Who brags about accomplishments; first teeth...first sounds...first smile
and makes every little thing that's done seem important and worthwhile?

Who’s been known to, after dark enter a room and slowly creep
to bend and kiss the forehead of a child fast asleep?

Who holds a hand while crossing as she thoughtfully conveys
a reminder to her child that he should always "look both ways?"

Who wipes peanut butter off a cheek and crayon off the wall
and knots an untied shoelace to avoid a likely fall?

Who watches the swift passing of childhood years that she will mourn,
and remembers every small detail about the day that child was born?

Who works the longest hours without a vacation...or a check,
but accepts her payment in the form of a hug around her neck?

Who never stops believing even when others are in doubt
and defends the fact her child was "safe" when the umpire calls him out!?

Who senses things just aren’t right and with the palm of her hand decrees
by placing it on her child’s brow... the fever’s 101 degrees?

Who shares life’s disappointments and feels the pain of all the bruises
and delights in her child’s winnings, but offers solace when he loses?

Who realizes as the years pass by... the further her child will roam
and who stays up late with worry when that child isn’t home?

Who tries to shield and protect by showing courage...staying strong;
trying to set a good example while her heart is breaking all along?

Who acts as a private tutor as the years fall in succession
by taking each opportunity to teach life’s every lesson?

Who listens with her heart even when her child is grown
and understands the feelings that she once herself, had known?

Who saved old cards and letters and kept pictures on the shelves
and offered unconditional love so we could learn to love, ourselves?

This poem describes one person; a woman unlike any other,
for who could possess that level of love...
Who Else, But A Mother?

--Linda Ellis

Before I was a mom...

Before I was a Mom
I made and ate hot meals.
I had unstained clothing.
I had quiet conversations on the phone.

Before I was a Mom,
I slept as late as I wanted
And never worried about how late I got into bed.
I brushed my hair and my teeth everyday.

Before I was Mom
I cleaned my house each day.
I never tripped over toys or forgot words of lullabies.

Before I was a Mom
I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a Mom
I had never been puked on
Pooped on
Spit on
Chewed on
Peed on
Or pinched by tiny fingers

Before I was a Mom
I had complete control of:
My thoughts
My body
And my mind.
I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom
I never held down a screaming child
So that doctors could do tests
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put it down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces
When I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small
Could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom
I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond between a Mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small
Could make me feel so important.

Before I was a Mom
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay
I had never known the warmth
The joy
The love
The heartache
The wonder
Or the satisfaction of being a Mom.

I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much before I was a Mom.

--Carol Myers


Dancers from The Royal Ballet rehearse 'The Nutcracker' at The Royal Opera House in Covent Garden in central London:

Nov 29, 2008

"for some things there are no U-turns in life, neither it is possible to put a reverse gear and take a step back".

Nov 27, 2008

Mumbai: 26th November, 2008

I found this picture (A policeman gives water to an injured child at a hospital in Mumbai after the city came under serial attacks)on Indian Express and was very much touched by it. Is it a world worth living? Where is the nation going? Are we really a developing or developed nation, probably true, because violence is surely a sign :-(

Oct 24, 2008

कल और आज...

बदला न अपने आप को जो थे वही रहे,
मिलते रहे सभी से मगर अजनबी रहे.

दुनिया ना जीत पाओ तो हारों ना खुद को तुम,
थोडी बहोत तो झहन में नाराज़गी रहे.

अपनी तरह सभी को भी किसी कि तलाश थी,
हम जिसके भी करीब रहे दूर ही रहे.

गुजरो जो बाग़ से तो दुआ मांगते चलो,
जिसमे खिले हैं फूल वह डाली हरी रहे.

Oct 17, 2008

Paulo Coelho

I have recently picked up the interest to read Paulo Coelho. I searched for his blog on internet and found something beautiful. Here it goes:

Memory and Salt
Paulo Coelho (August 31, 2007)

"I arrive in Madrid at eight o’clock in the morning. I will only be here a few hours, so it’s not worth phoning friends and arranging to see them. I decide to go for a walk alone in my favourite places, and I end up sitting smoking a cigarette on a bench in the Retiro Park.

‘You look miles away,’ says an old man, joining me on the bench.

‘Oh, I’m here,’ I say, ‘but I’m sitting on this same bench with a painter friend of mine, Anastasio Ranchal, twelve years ago in 1986. We are both watching my wife, Christina, who has had a bit too much to drink and is trying to dance the flamenco.’

‘Enjoy your memories,’ says the old man. ‘But don’t forget that memory is like salt: the right amount brings out the flavour in food, too much ruins it. If you live in the past all the time, you’ll find yourself with no present to remember.’ "

Jun 6, 2008



I was thinking to create a blog from a long long time, but just kept thinking until today. Today i needed to talk, to communicate to somebody and then my blog came into being. Hopefully, it will help me discover myself, and share my burden when I am lost/lonely, and also share my happiness.