Coincidence

Coincidence

I was about 6 when I drew something in school and got a star.

Proud and happy I ran to show it to mom as I reached home.

The drawing of a flower which was red

Throwing fragrance on the page.

Mom patted my back saying ‘it looks very nice’.

Suggested I must show it to dad when he returns that night.

Grinning with joy I held it close to my heart.

 

Evening brought a friend of mom for tea

She called me to show dear aunty my deed

I ran back to my room and carried out my possession for the day

Aunty said it’s so nice and so clear my dear.

Mom gleamed and said

‘Oh yes she is my shining star indeed’

 

Then something caught her attention

She ran her fingers on the leaf

With two shades of green

Who taught you to draw these lines on the leaves ?

I shrugged my shoulder and said

‘I know where they belong’ 

She pulled me with love and I curled on her lap

These are not lines mumma

But veins are they called!

 

She was attentive to my art

I must pay attention too

Many things I wanted to draw

To keep intact her growing awe.

 

Till date when I doodle mindlessly

A leaf is born somewhere in the scribble

Could it be a coincidence ?

Or her love 

Running through my veins… 

 

                                                    Daily Prompt : Coincidence 

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The boy on the bench

Sympathy

I was waiting for a friend, we had plans to have coffee together. I decided to sit outside and wait for her. He looked beautiful, innocent. He was sitting on the bench across the road , must be all of 9 or 10 years. Same age as my boy. Almost the same built, dark hair and deep eyes. Sitting on the bench he watched people pass by. What was he observing ? What did he first notice on them as people walked past him in a rush , some on the phone and some pretending to be on the phone, some rushing with a purpose and some without. It’s not strange why no one observed him. Was it because he has no shoes on him or was it because his t-shirt was too big for him. or was it because he sat there without a purpose ? He seemed lost maybe disillusioned. His hopeless eyes sought nothing it seems. Briefly troubled by a fly as it was hovering his head for quite some time now. Tired , he stopped moving his hands to shoo off the adamant being . He gave up on the fly but the fly was in no mood to. They became friends it seems.

The wisdom in his eyes didn’t match up with his age. He stood up to stretch and to scan the dustbin near by. He picked up a thing to taste it and threw it back inside. He searched again and then discovered a half eaten banana. The earth below me was shaking or was it me ? I had shivers and tears rolling down my eyes. My boy would be in school eating his healthy lunch at this time. So, why is this boy less deserving ? We may name destiny, karma or fate ? He doesn’t belong here and why just him and million kids like him surviving this irony called life.  We went in as my friend arrived and sat down for our coffee, my eyes still on him as I chose to sit by the window. Saw him playing with a broken toy which he must have discovery next from the shacks he scanned. He seemed happy and contended. I couldn’t eat a morsel fearing what if the boy outside spots me  enjoying my sandwich. I felt ashamed eating.

I directed my driver to come across the road. I stood close to the bench he sat on as he continued playing oblivion to my presence. He made roaring sounds with the broken car. Don’t all kids play alike , all have small little hopes , all expect a little love and attention except for this one boy on the bench. I couldn’t gather courage to approach him or even look at him. Though I wanted to sit and talk but I didn’t. I wanted to ask his name but I didn’t. Why ? What was I ashamed off ? He looked at me for a few seconds and then looked away. I must give this to him before my car arrives I thought . I held out the box to him and said ” this is for you”. He stood up and stared at me. “Some food for you in this box, please eat”. He took the box with a wide grin and his smile reached his eye. As my car rolled up on our side and I was getting in he asked me my name -” Preeti ” I said. He folder his legs and sat back on the bench to open the box and shouted “Aur main hoon Srikanth”(and my name is Srikant) and waved me an animated bye. He must have sat there since morning with some amount of wamble in his stomach but what kept him contended ? What kept him going each day, what did he expect from life each day? He did not beg around for food as if he expected nothing from the world around him it seems. Moreover, he wasn’t ashamed of asking my name. His name and his life state didn’t agree . ‘Srikant’ – which means lover of wealth and fortune.

Sympathy was what I felt for myself after meeting Srikant. Antithetical is life.

Recite

 

I knew what to recite today. It was his favourite song. A hymn from my school almanac. Every time I sang it brought a smile and a tiny tear to his eye. Maybe he liked it as much as I did. The high notes of this hymn did agree with me ,without my voice going into a shiver. So we waited , me and my sister for the evening and for him to return from work. A daily competition between me and my sister of who will sing the best tonite. And the judge being my Papa .

We waited for him to change and settle. For him to finish his dinner with the daily dose of his news at 9 took 30 minutes.

We never recited together. Our voices never matched and still don’t . She wanted to go first and I would always let her. Thinking the last song I sang would garner more praises and would have a good recall value. Or so I thought !

She sang, she was good today and It was my turn now.

I sang with all my heart, I sang to take his tiredness away  so his day would end on a sweet happy note. I sang with reverence in my heart for the one who was out for 12 hours a day. Never took a day off . He who had 3 shirts and 6 days of work. He who never shouted on us a single day. He who had no demands . He who was and is still a pillar of strenght.  He must smile throughout my song today and a tiny tear in his eye would mean he is touched, and that would be my medal for tonite.

The song ended. He called us both to hug us and pat us on our back. We were hoping for his verdict on who was the best amongst us. But like each day he said  “ How lovely you two sing , Very good, very beautiful songs, thank you for singing for me.”

We both wanted to know who was the best singer from papa but he never said , never compared. As we both lay in bed she said “ I think I was better today” and I argued “ No, I was”. As I closed my eyes I thought which song would I recite tomorrow for my dad to be the best. But the verdict till date remains the same and He still is the best dad.

Edible

What I take in me is Edible

It could be a resonating thought

Or knowledge I want to aquire

Or a memory that bring a smile

 

Praises are always edible

Food that appeals to the eye

Inspires , adds to your true growth

 

Meat isn’t edible

For the body nor the soul

Its nothing but a dead body on a platter

And makes you scatter

 

Hatred isnt edible

It like self murder

Vices were never

 

Add a filter

To each passing thought

To each morsel you take

Keep only the pure

Stop containing the rest.

The Daily Post : Edible