The Swan Lake

Reverse schooled (v): When a child introduces a 30-something parent to something cool and new, and the parent learns with wide-eyed rapture.

K came home from school the other day, and said he learnt about folk-tales in his language class, and would like to watch the ballet The Swan Lake. I had never seen a ballet before. I had watched Natalie Portman's Black Swan and I had watched my friends daughter's ballet recital with students under the age of 12, but never seen a proper ballet. So we googled The Swan Lake and watched it together on YouTube. Little K knew the sequence of the Acts and what happens in each Act, so he talked me through it as the story progressed. It was in the final act, that I saw tears welling up in his eyes as he said, "Now Prince Seigfried & Odelle decide they want to die together rather than live apart". His emotional grasp of the ballet shocked me. At the age of 7, I would've imagined that he would find an hour long ballet boring, but I was so wrong! He surprised me with the breadth of his interests - from Star Wars to Swan Lake it's quite a span! As for me, I learnt and saw something new yesterday. And it sure was pretty!

P.S. Here's me thinking in verses again:

Swans tiptoe across my screen,

As violins make their melody prance,

And a story unfolds of a tragic love,

Beautiful words that can be spoken only in dance.

I watch him tearing at the swan's despair,

Her hollow arched back and despondent gait,

As I watch my own swan's metamorphosis,

I am stunned by the moment's weight.

He has learnt a new language today,

Felt a stir in a new depth within,

Rooting for love he doesn't yet understand,

Unknowingly but not unwittingly, to win.

Ruled by the mob

The mob holds a trial,

The mob's verdict is guilty,

The mob decides the punishment,

Nothing less than capital would do.

This happens on the streets,

This happens on the telly,

This happens on social media,

Who is the mob, who's who?

Are they people backed by facts?

Are they people who scream their vocal cords hoarse?

Are they people at all, you might ask,

It's okay, I've asked that too.

Thugs who rule by intimidation,

Thugs sneakily disguised as us,

Thugs who shame those who aren't thugs by asking,

Are you starting a coup?

It's easier of course to join that mob,

Than it is to stand apart,

Easier still to lay low and quiet,

And ask - What else could a lone guy like me do?

Supernova

We watched a Nat Geo documentary celebrating the 25th anniversary of the Hubble Telescope in orbit. It's such an inspiring human feat. And of course I love this picture of "The Pillars of Creation". (Read this if you don't already know about it: http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pillars_of_Creation). 

The cosmic brilliance of this picture makes one wonder:

How can we not marvel at the enormity of the empire He orchestrates,

An explosion here with molecules playing havoc giving birth to entire galaxies,

And thousands of light years away, at the same time,

A little child's silent prayer to make the rain stop so he can play. 

The fickle cricket fan

An ode to Yuvraj Singh's epic fall from celebrity last night after the 2014 T20 World Cup finals :(

Not so long ago, he was a conqueror
Victorious, carried on their shoulders,
His name chanted with fervour;
Mexican waves rose in his honour.
And in a blip (21 balls really)
Came the sudden fall from that dizzying height,
Allegiances change frequently, he must know that.
Falls must hurt nonetheless. Sorely.
No love is lost though.
For the fickle cricket worshippers,
Sulking over this last heartbreak today,
Are sure to be as capricious tomorrow.

The Selfie

With a sparkly red pout & a victory sign she posed,
Clicked; brightness adjusted; a few filters tried,
Chosen was the one that made her lips pop, of course.
Off went the upload,
#bestdayever, #newlipgloss, she labelled it.
She was 15 & pleased at how much she glowed in the glossy tint.
She aspired for gloss. It surrounded her: on the streets, on her phone, even at her school.
When did it first start it's seductive lure?
She couldn't vaguely tell how glossiness had crept into her life; then taken it over.
She flipped absent-mindedly through her Instagram.
There was no hashtag strong, or smart over there.
There just wasn't.
Why is that so awful? she looked up from her phone, puzzled, defiant. Why is it not enough to look fabulous?
She had never heard a good reason why not.
She just hadn't.

A haiku from my kitchen

A sizzling wok of vegetables.

Tossed, turned, seasoned.

A home cooked meal for two.

The Visa Queue

The brown & yellow queue snaked long & far;

Letters, bank statements, testimonials (in duplicates of course) firmly clutched;

A job. A scholarship. A holiday perhaps?

Waited at the end of that never ending snake.

Impatience & light perspiration, gosh!

They filled the part of the room where the wall clock ticked behind the rude clerk.

On the other side though in that same room, there was only beautiful promise & anxious hope;

Of an escape to that first world country where dreams came true.

The Long Distance Mother

Almost all the nannies/ domestic helpers in Singapore are Filipino women; who in most cases have families & little children of their own back home, but live in Singapore staying in strangers' homes taking care of strangers' babies as if they were their own.

Ana moved into our home & family around 4 years ago, when we found out we were expecting K. Her own kids were already grown up by then, but I've often wondered how she saw our lives. Watching a pampered single-child in Singapore with over a 100 toys in his room, must seem so wasteful, excessive & unfair to her. And yet, she seems simple-mindedly happy & content in his company; takes pride in his milestones; fusses over and worries for him when he's sick; and sulks when she drops him off at school. Meanwhile, her own 20-year-old son has come to Singapore this week & is staying with us. She can't get over the fact that her two separate worlds are finally piecing together!

Hush, hush, sweet child,
Here, let me sing you a song,
Let me rock you gently,
And hold your tiny hand.

There once was a little prince,
Who lived in a castle of gold,
He floated on clouds,
Knew no care in the world,

His smile makes a rainbow,
In a sky grey and dark,
His hand reaches hearts,
And unties its knots,

He laughs & gurgles,
Like the gushing Davao River,
Bordered by the coconut trees,
And a tiny brick house,

That land which I left,
You, a prince from another land,
You take me back there,
How do you do that?

A portrait of the man in a tie

The man in a Ferragamo tie,
With ironed pleated trousers,
And a jacket to match,
Loafers made of animal hide,
And a shiny metal watch.

A thumb rolling over the Blackberry scroller,
Eyes speed-reading an email,
While he quibbles on his phone,
About two basis-points,
That could cost dollars million & half.

Confident he'll meet his ambition,
He's been successful so far,
He's a man of aspiration,
I'm not quite convinced however,
That he knows what his aspirations are.

The lap of luxury is a gluey lap,
He worries about being able to stay high,
To maintain that abundance,
Although only a few years ago,
He wasn't acquainted with it at all.

A leader; a grabber of opportunities,
He's loved for his charm & suave.
And he lives it up high,
The fruition of five long days,
In a weekend of unfettered verve.

When the suit is off though,
A naked man stands in front of the mirror.
Before he learnt to live life with staidness,
He had knocked the ball that smashed the neighbour's window,
That impetous boy without the tie.

An Ode to a Sovereign Debt Crisis

The ancient land,
Where the Gods were born,
Land of a mighty Hercules,
And his fits of Insanity.

As the Parliament argues,
Over austerity & EU bail-outs;
Who survives that grave fall from glory,
But Insanity.

The Have-nots

A young girl working her second shift,
in a factory on the outskirts of Guangdong,
sticking the last "Made in China" sticker,
just before she returns home by bus,
away from the loud groaning machinery.

Grateful for the big order this month,
for the extra cash that she would send home,
and keep 20 yuan back perhaps for a treat,
She felt like a princess today,
This was it; the last batch of memorabilia,
"The Royal Wedding- William & Kate".

And in the spirit of the season....

The agony of that wait
Both hands on the head
The sinking of the heart
And then a glimmer of hope
Perhaps a benefit of doubt?
Perhaps not?
Holding back a cheer
But letting go of a clap
As the world moves in slow motion
The fate of a billion
Reviewed by one third-umpire!

The text message

I am the introvert's friend;
The one who's wary of conversations,
But fears loneliness more perhaps.
Who wants to be in touch,
From a distance only however;

I can make it easy for him;
I can make that happen,
The illusion of being with people,
Without the messiness of strings.

Who am I?

A Haiku from Mumbai

A big white wall
"Keep Mumbai clean".
Thoo, a red splutter.

The Play

The stage is set,

Characters there are many,

Each a protagonist,

Of his epic story.

There is much self-created chaos,

There is much randomness,

But there is reason & faith,

That the plot will fall in place.

He's here!

April 2, 2009. 8.20 am. When the moment came, it was surreal; it was like a scene out of a movie. It was a feeling, an experience like none before; I could barely believe it was happening to me.

She held him
For the very first time,
His head in her arms
His palms locked into fists,
"What do I do now
With a thing so precious?"

Then, as if by instinct
She lifted him to her lips,
And a kiss
So soft but deep in touch,
Magically replaced that cord
Severed only a while ago.

Preparing, waiting

We've picked up quite a few things to go in the baby's room. Inspite of warnings from the families (that it would be bad luck to buy too many things before the baby actually arrives), we've done a fair bit of shopping in the spirit of "being prepared"; most of it will get delivered closer to the due date. We'll probably leave decorating the nursery for the last month. Doesn't mean I haven't started planning though.

Colourful musings; soft tender tones;
Some blue, some green, some red,
There is the pram; there'll be the baby's bed,
There we sit as we watch him play;
We could change this, get that new,
Trying our best to keep,
A promise of love; that we've made to you :)

PS: I do realise that my blog posts have been getting overly maternal these days :)

I saw my angel

The moment I saw you,
I knew life had changed forever
You moved right in, swiftly
to the center of my heart.
From here on, love
would mean your happiness.
From here on, peace
would mean knowing you're well.
From here on, bliss
would mean watching you be.
A part of me, yet
an angel from another world.
I want to protect you, always
you're precious, invaluable.
I love loving you,
my miracle, you fill me with awe.

PS: We're having a baby!! And these were our thoughts after our first scan! :)

Memory

Memory is a deceiving thing;
But hard to dismiss.
Moments we ought to forget;
Persist & subsist.
Moments we ought to cherish;
Disappear & desist.
Imagine a different world;
Where memory doesn't betray like this;
A world with memories only of bliss.

Happy Anniversary :)

We glanced back from our speed boat,
At the track of ripples we left in the river;
Followed by the dew drops on leaves adrift-
like tiny gems on water; floating together;
And between the ripples & the gems;
A bleary reflection of two happy faces--
Both of us & this sojourn in paradise.