Dear Husband

Just like a tree rooted to the ground,

You have sheltered me from the troubles around.

When I look into your eyes,

My heart instantly smiles,

You’re still the same man,

Without a single vice.

This is what they call sincere love.

You’ve been the only constant,

In this ever-changing world.

You’ve been my sense and my nerve,

And the heartbeat, that constantly flutters.

You’ve pulled me up at my lowest &

Pushed me ahead when I froze,

You loved me at the weakest &

Appreciated me when I rose.

I am glad destiny brought us close &

I am glad our lives entwined,

I hope you remain my one true constant,

Even when I am done with life!

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya

The break…

You can’t be both,

A happy mother & a successful working mom,

There was never such a thing as above,

Make a choice, you will have to,

When you grasp the tiny finger,

Withdraw, you can’t be happy forever…

Teach her to love,

Then teach her a thing about separation…

Soon she will get used to the absence, but would you?

 

Every day I leave her, I put up a brave face,

I am scared to get too used to her smiles,

I need to focus,

The reality is vile.

You’re not just a working mother,

You’re also a working woman,

So every moment is a challenge,

& the logics are weighed on a patriarchal scale.

 

I want to compete with men,

Be just like them,

Then I remember she must be waiting

& expecting this stranger anytime,

There is so much I will never be able to do,

Because I still can’t make a choice,

Her love is stronger &

So is my pride.

 

Does every mom choose?

Or does it come easy to them,

Are they allowed a refuge or

Are they always confused?

I still want both the worlds,

Someday, maybe she will understand,

Why I left her behind the doors &

Why I could never take a stand.

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya

Age

The dark circles under her eyes,

Her hands coarse and wrinkled,

The furrowed eyelids gathered at one place

Her face gaunt and dimpled.

IMG_4841The dark circles under her eyes,

Her hands coarse and wrinkled,

The furrowed eyelids gathered at one place

Her face gaunt and dimpled.

 

The strong arms that once were my recluse, &

The once toned legs have thinned down,

He takes time to get up on his own

And trembles when he sits down.

 

Their bodies are now clad in loose skin,

Their gait is slow and mirth fatigued,

They take time to remember things now

I can see they are getting old and weak.

 

They don’t eat much, they don’t sleep much,

They can’t concentrate on just one thing,

Their days have become incessant &

They spend most of their nights thinking.

 

Thinking if they will be able to give,

Some more time.

If they will be able to stay,

Just a little longer.

If they can try to make our world easier,

And teach our little one about love and honour, but

 

Time is a powerful master &

We are just feeble subjects,

I never knew what age was,

Until time showed me this new aspect.

 

We are ageing now, we always were,

It’s prominent now because it’s visible.

I wish I could rewind the time and

Become that carefree girl again,

I wish I could give them back their younger days &

Take away the existing pain.

 

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Que Sera, Sera

What do you want her to be when she grows up? What would you like her to pursue? I am left with so many unaccomplished dreams that I’d want her to pursue everything that I like, yet every time I look into her eyes I realise I am facing a different person. She is a part of me but she is nothing like me. She is harbouring unrealised dreams and there are many things that fascinate her, she is only 1. How can I dream anything for her? I can’t, rather I shouldn’t.
I want my baby to become anything that her heart desires. I want her to pursue happiness. She can be a princess today and she can be a sailor tomorrow. She can be a scientist today and a swimmer tomorrow, but for now she can be the child who doesn’t have to know limits. She can be the girl who doesn’t know the difference between her and the boy who lives across the street. She will know the differences as she grows old anyway but the only difference I will teach her for now is to differentiate between the good and the bad. I will teach her that people may try to take advantage of her and not because she is a girl but because there are bad people in this world.
She is allowed to skin her knee and she is also allowed to break someone else’s bones if needed. Yes, she is mine but even I won’t owe her. I want her to know that she will be allowed to make mistakes and learn from them. She is lucky for even her dad will support her, spoil her. I want her to know that we will give her the best in our reach but in return we would expect her to value it, for there are many unprivileged.
I have dreams for her, so many of them but eventually she will realise her dreams when she grows old and I will have to accept. Today she has started walking, tomorrow I wouldn’t want her to run away from me. I hope I can be the mother, I think I should be.

To the Men Who Lie

Because objects shouldn’t have a voice,

And whatever objects, is never a choice.

There are men that knit stories of affection,

Stories of love, and stories of dedication.

They make you believe that you’re important than their life,

Then they tell the same thing to the next in line.

Yes, you’re like season and seasons always change,

There’s never one constant, but after every change, it rains.

Yes, feelings are important and they feel too much,

That’s also one reason why one woman, is seldom enough!

They lie unsurprisingly and it’s difficult to tell,

After all, they bind you with their bewitching spell.

They are dangerous, than danger itself,

Because they haven’t yet discovered themselves.

Every woman is nice as long as she falls for the charms,

But if she questions something, it raises an alarm.

Such men like their women timid,

That are meek and unarguably stupid,

Because objects shouldn’t have a voice,

And whatever objects, is never a choice.

They believe heartily that nothing is permanent,

And that’s their reason, for the short arrangements.

To the men that lie, we know who you are,

The times have changed, your lies have travelled afar.

To the men who lie, know our hearts have fortified,

The declaration of love, no longer makes us blind.

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya

 

 

Winter is here

I find myself in

winters,

Not the one that’s dark and bleak,

But the one that knocks at the window,

Or caresses me when I am asleep.

I like the windy days, and the cold, that it transpires,

Yes, I am much in

love with winters,

I love the

wood and bonfires.

I feel love in the gush,

it’s the wind narrating stories,

Even the blade of grass stands still,

As it awaits the

dancing fairies…

I am a winter person,

As I get the warmth in chill…

Sweaters can’t contain me

My heart bleeds to see the

hills

I find myself in winters,

When I am back home, and it rains…

I forget the sorrows

I held for long,

I forget it ever pained.

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya

Trying to understand my Baby girl

Poem on mother

I have so much to learn, she has so much to teach,

Her tiny grasp, & the world still out of reach…

She teaches silently, with eyes that shine like enstatite,

She notices everything acutely, she happens to have a keen sight

How her smile transforms into questions,

How she abhors what dissuades her, with apparent objection,

She’s not easy but intricate

Sometimes I read her like a passage and

Sometimes she is nothing less than an adage…

I wasn’t always strong, but she inspires me to be

She gives me that inconceivable strength

That only superhuman feel…

She trusts me more than I trust myself,

Makes me feel like I have finally excelled …

I don’t know if I was anything before she came,

She has added colours in the monochrome frame…

We will understand each other more,

As life unfolds itself,

Till then we’ll observe each other and try to comprehend as much as we can!

Ⓒ Prakriti Kundaliya