Jenny Joseph: Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Remembering Goa

"I was the young king
Of those great solitudes,
An unknown king whose country was
Sand, woods, sea, and the hard wind.
I had no dreams, I grave myself
To space, to the pure
Kiss of the salt, wide open
To buffets of the damp and bitter air,
To my endless pursuit of the infinite."

My daughter : Born 26 Sept 2011

I'm a mother to a beautiful daughter now — an angel who keeps me smiling every time I look at her.

Nursing nostalgia

"RIP to the girl you used to see
Her days are over, baby she's over..."

Poppies: Carl Sandburg

She loves blood-red poppies for a garden to walk in.

In a loose white gown she walksand a new child tugs at cords in her body.

Her head to the west at evening when the dew is creeping,

A shudder of gladness runs in her bones and torsal fiber:

She loves blood-red poppies for a garden to walk in.

A Style of Loving - Vikram Seth

Light now restricts itself
To the top half of trees;
The angled sun
Slants honey-coloured rays
That lessen to the ground
As we bike through
The corridor of Palm Drive.

We two
Have reached a safety the years
Can claim to have created:
Unconsummated, therefore
Unjaded, unsated.
Picnic, movie, ice-cream;
Talk; to clear my head
Hot buttered rum — coffee for you;
And so not to bed.

And so we have set the question
Aside, gently.
Were we to become lovers
Where would our best friends be?
You do not wish, nor I
To risk again
This savoured light for noon’s
High joy or pain.

Little Red Riding Hood

Little Red Riding Hood has fascinated me for quite some time, not because of the character or the story (I read the story only a couple of days back) but because of the red cloak she wears. I guess this sense of awe and fascination has much to do with the movie Hard Candy and the kick-ass girl who is the protagonist. The girl in the movie wears a hooded red sweatshirt with red tights, very much reminiscent of the fictional character. But the two are poles apart. One is a timid, innocent young girl who gets swallowed by a cunning wolf and the other is a strong, aggressive character who is capable of taking on the big bad world. And oddly, I feel love for these two characters. Probably because both have in them the strengths that I lack. One in her innocence and the other in her come-what-may attitude. If only I could be a bitch or a saint!

Loneliness: Somewhere in a place called Goa

My private space

This is my private space, where I'm most at ease. I can breathe without inhibition, stare through the screen in total abandon, scribble sense/nonsense as it comes to me, and live — just live — as I want to, without ties, complications, without another person breathing down on me.
Why is it difficult being oneself?

Looking at the bright side

Hope all goes well this year. No more negativity, no more fear, no more anger.
I'm going to find the strength to take on life as it comes and fill it with a trillion shades of happiness. Amen.