I'm running dry days due to my new beginnings in TIFR, so here's a cross-posting from Caferati's blog:

Mumbai, 10 October, 2005

Little bundle in my arms,
Your pink little face,
Asleep, Vulnerable, Innocent,
Drives me to tears;
And emotions
Beyond description.

As I hold you,
I fall into a reverie –
Diaper changes, Baby baths,
Pink dresses and paranoid wife.

Toddler days and teddy bears,
Crawling, standing, falling down,
Those first steps;
Camera poised to record
those fleeting landmarks.

Schooldays: A tearful face,
dimpled cheeks pinched cruelly
by o-cho-chweeters;
Leaky water-bottle,
Sandwiches given to the crows,
A bewildered nursery teacher
And mother bent over A-B-C.

Fights with those rough boys
For the playground swing,
Daddy dearest will beat them up
And my little doll remain unhurt,
Only her spirit a little bruised.

Tampons, boys and pimples;
Those giggles
Those looks of shyness
Awkward days for daddy.

Young lady about town
Dashing admirers
Phone calls, flowers,
Paranoid papa.

The coy bride,
Copious tears, Silk sarees.
A deep
That some young man
Is losing his freedom.

Pesky grandchildren
Running all over my house
Upsetting that collectors’ vase;
A hassled mother
Now with the deepest
Worries of her own.

And aged matriarch
White-haired, Wrinkled,
With a dignity unmatched
Coming as it does
From a life full-lived.

I shake my head.
Baby is still asleep.
Well, my child,
In this moment,
I have lived your life.


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