Doors
By Hema Subramanian
Shapes colours sizes
Different representations
With open arms
Welcoming all
Shutting out
The unwanted
Untold stories
Behind them
Secrets held
Within them
Myriad of emotions
Passing the threshold
Yet silent and determined
Untainted they stand!
By Hema Subramanian
Every morning my alarm goes off at 5:30am. I wake up. I know I have to get up do my exercises and go on with my day. But, there is an avatar of me hidden, may be with a couple of horns, urging me , pleading me, at times physically pushing me down to go back to sleep!
Her reasoning starts with, another 10 mins of sleep and you will feel better. Then she goes ahead, scans my calendar for the day and let’s me know I still have time. My mind in the sleep ridden stupor gets convinced quite easily though heavily laced with guilt! In the midst of that extra 10 minutes, guilt decides to wake me up. I squint at the watch and realise there are two whole minutes left to my precious 10 minutes. I snub the guilt and promptly shut my eyes.
Now, there is one more painful angle to the process! Self pity! My avatar shifts gear and accelerates the thought. Our dialogue starts!
Avatar: you will go and do cycling at the gym??? Do you know the excruciating pain it will trigger?
Me: no pain no gain! I have to go through the pain to get better! See yesterday after the painful exercise I was good without pain the whole day!
Avatar: Bah!! I saw you caressing your knee time and again. The pain is going to nag you the whole day!
Me: listen, i will deal with it. Just buzz off and let me get up and get going!
Avatar: why this strict routine? You don’t have to report to anyone! Sleep for some more time! Pleaseeee! See your eyes are so heavy and the body still hurts to get out of bed!
Today I fell for the trap! I gave in and promised myself a few more winks and caught some restless sleep! Only to wake up finally at 7:00 with my head bowed down with guilt at the failure of my will power!
I check the alarm on my phone and raise my hopes up! Tomorrow will be the perfect day for me to wake up at 5:30 and start afresh!
By Hema Subramanian
Gloriously he shines
After a long travel
Across the skies
Radiant with happiness
Knowing the day
Comes to an end
His path not smooth
Praise and brickbats
Equally strewn
Stride did he
Relentless his mission
Crossing skies and seas
The shades and hues
Displayed as he crossed
Nonchalantly moving
Changing from brilliant
To bright to golden
The brilliance fading
Brightness ebbing
Yet setting with pride
Resting to start afresh
A new day to dawn
By Hema Subramanian
Why?
By Hema Subramanian
Why am I nice to people?
Why am I kind?
Why do I not change?
Even after being kicked on my face .
Even after being walked over
Even after thought to be an imbecile
I do hurt with harsh words
I do crave for softness from my loved ones
I do expect tenderness
Yet, repeatedly I am pushed
I am shoved
I am spoken to curtly
But then I still want to care
I still want to remain true
I still want to be the kind soft hearted me!
People who shove , push demean
Know their flaw in their hearts
The very reason , they defend up
Cowards they are
Can’t face their truth
Can’t handle the gentle and kind me!
Can’t match up to my love
Can’t match up to my tenderness
Can’t stand up to me!
I do withdraw into my shell
To protect my tender raw heart
But I come out stronger yet
With resolve to face
The unkind world
With a smile on my face
By Hema Subramanian
I sit on a rock
on a rock I sit
pondering, enjoying
soaking in the surrounding
A giggle and laugh
too loud for my thoughts
huge feet trampling grass
stood I still on my stately rock
praying this terror might pass
trundled along yet another mass
froze I to my spot
the colossal , me had sighted
my heart raced as thoughts paced
my end, crushed, used thrown!
and I saw the contraption
straight at me was pointed
Oh! the angle dance kind
my mother’s words, a capture but different
followed her advice did I
stood still till action subside
unmoving, I posed and preened
unknowing of the fame garnered
for, more shall follow
chasing the nature’s dream

As autumn creeps in
The tress shed their cover
And in winter they stand bereft
Of colour shape or life
Stark and bleak
Against the grey winter sky
Fingers gnarled towards the sun
Searching for some warmth and hope
Our days twisted
Instead of spring sprang autumn
Shedding our vibrant colours
Sucking life out of us
We too stark and worn
Stand against the turbulent times
Eyes trained to the horizon of hope
Looking for the return of warmth of human touch!!!
The clouds shall pass
Spring shall return
Glow we shall
Till then, the candle of hope burns!
Poem inspired by the photograph clicked at Stuttgart – Germany.
Kitchen Musings!!!
What with the lockdown, the time spent alone in the kitchen has increased many folds. Most of the jobs in the kitchen are quite mundane. Once you figure out what to cook, the next steps are quite predictable. Out of habit you know how, to what size the onion has to be cut and how much and what vegetable you need to chop, so on and so forth. Part of your mind goes into an automation mode ( here I see people who are deep into mindfulness, lifting their finger to make a point). The other half of your mind keeps drifting in and out of different spaces and time. And the musings lead to…
The other day I was cutting some Cantaloupes, the unique smell transported me to my childhood and the picture of my dad floated in. It felt so real and true, as if I was experiencing the moment again. It was Appa’s job to cut fruits after dinner for the family, something he loved to do. He knew that I hated the smell of musk melon, so he would sprinkle sugar and cardamom on it and serve it to me. He wanted me to acquire a taste for it. But the melons those days were quite bland. Appa had tasted juicy melons during his trips abroad and wanted to share that experience with us. Many years later I developed a taste for Cantaloupes when we were in Ghaziabad. He was the one who re-introduced me to musk melons all over when I became an adult and had a child of my own. Now it is my favourite fruit.
I don’t know, presently, if its due to the relaxed nature of the mind, memories seem to be flooding my senses. I just pulled out the drawer to take out a cup, and my eyes fell on a tall and a rather oversized tumbler ( Glass, popularly called tumbler in tambram families ). At the risk of sounding and behaving like Mungeri Lal from ‘Mungeri lal ke haseen sapne’, I travel back in time. That tall glass belonged to my mother in law, and she would have her coffee or milk or water, only in that tumbler. No one would dare touch it. The memories swung me gently to the countless evenings of sitting on the cement bench on the porch of our house, drinking hot filter coffee, she in her exclusive large tumbler and me in my R K Narayan common man small tumbler. Those were beautiful days spent as a young bride getting inducted to the family ways and making inroads into family gossip. All this memory, in a fraction of second, of opening and closing the drawer to take out a cup.
The chuck chuck chuck sound of a bird akin to a woodpecker goes on relentlessly in the mornings. I don’t remember hearing it earlier as I used to hurriedly enter the kitchen, be the head chef, and get out leaving the other chores to my woman friday. But now, I can hear it loud and clear, while rolling out rotis or chopping veggies. Instantly, mental images magically appear ; the smoky haze rising up early in the morning, from the pile of leaves burnt by the sweeper and shafts of gentle sun rays filtering through the smoke. The location , clear in my mind, my uncle’s house in Zaveri Bhavan building , Vile Parle, where I spent many days of my summer vacations with cousins. While the rays presented the visual treat, the ancestor of the chuck chuck chuck bird would present her rhythmic beat. And my mind has recorded the song with the whole glorious visual of the filtered sunrays through the smoke, with the smell of burnt leaves to add to the effect.
As I thought about these memories and thoughts, it occurred to me that our senses help create and recreate these beautiful or unpleasant memories. And during bleak times like now, good and bad memories come to your rescue. Some memories caution you against doing certain things, some give you ideas to solve new problems and yet some, bring about a happy fuzzy feel to your mind and helps you go about doing your mundane chores with a spring in your step.
The music app on the phone belts out ” Tum aagaye ho noor aa gaya hai,”!!! Memories thou art a saviour!
Today is the 10th day of my self isolation after I got back from my trip to Germany. I am not sure what my feelings are. At times I am constrained, only due to lack of exercise and movement , but other wise, I am happy and have not a moment of boredom. I kind of have got used to the me time I am getting now. And, to think about it, I have been enjoying this “being with self” for an extended period now. My stay in Germany was also by and large, self isolation.
People close to me were very happy that I was contained in one place and I could not go out. They were concerned for me as I am those adventurous kinds who would jump into situations without any regard to pain in the legs, with a walker, or a stick , but will not miss out on any fun activity. Having said all that , I can also happily be with myself without complaining. I have learnt to do that. When you have an active mind who needs to go out. And your creativity kicks in and you figure out ways to fill in your days with meaningful activity. I had my hands full when I could move out of the house and yes, even now i continue to keep my days occupied!
On day one the 14 days felt intimidating. Then I realised I was jet lagged and I slept at odd hours woke up late in the afternoon and was up most of the night.The fear of the virus had gripped me and I kept imagining a sore throat, it did not help that my sinus was acting up and the constant back nasal drip kept setting of the alarm with a dry cough. Well, I had Vitamin C tablet with me that I had picked up off the shelf from a medical shop , and I did not realise was dissolvable, while popping the first one into my mouth, direct! And… it was effervescent, I ran to the bottle of water and took sips to dissolve the extremely sour and pungent tablet. And I could get some relief after a good five to six swigs of water. It made me forget my nasal drip woes and I sat and had a good laugh at my expense. Then I remembered two oranges that I had sneaked in from Germany ( the ones the security officers were bewildered about); I ate them in quick succession. My idea was, incase I was invaded by the virus, I should drown it in Vitamin C so that it does not have the strength to fight my immune system. Being my sole company for a long period made me read each and every WhatsApp message and wise informed me came up with solutions.
I had just returned from Germany, as you know, and I was still suffering from the OCD of cleanliness and the self help drug was still very active in my blood. So the next day, after I woke up from my jet lagged sleep I felt my house keeping help was doing a shoddy job with cleaning the bathroom. I set out to clean it to teach him a lesson. But soon, I realised he would not be coming to work due the COVID19 as he was asked not to travel by train to reach our apartments. ( Fair enough!) I consoled my self with the fact that the bathroom did get cleaned well by me.
Amazon was still alive at that time and I quickly sat down and ordered more cleaning material to clean the stubborn water spots left on the glass. My paranoia with disinfectants and OCD for cleaning was a deadly combination and the next day ensured all the surfaces being wiped clean by the freshly arrived disinfectants from Amazon.
Till now we were still having our woman Friday and my evening cook coming in for work. They had strict instructions- sanitise hands as soon as you enter, go straight to the wash basin, wash your hands, don’t come near my room, talk to me from 6 feet distance, so on and so forth. They are well trained and good sincere workers and things were running quite smooth. Hubby dear also stayed back at home as his company policy did not allow anyone to go to work, if any one of his family members had travelled into India, from abroad. And things were smooth. But just on the 3rd day of my isolation we got to know about the Janta curfew and my maids would not be able to make it to work. A sense of panic set in and maids and me collectively decided that they would cook for Saturday and Sunday for us.
But… on Monday we got to know they will not be able to come at-least till March 31st and the penny dropped!!! We would be without food if my husband dosen’t cook. He is a fantastic man, very good and successful man, highly intelligent, but he had know clue about the kitchen and did not know the C of cooking other than making lime juice and tea for himself.And poor man was saddled with the daunting task of cooking three times , cleaning the kitchen and the vessels all at the same time. None of which he had done much earlier. And I donned my mask , stood without touching anything with a sanitiser ready in my hand to clean surfaces I may accidentally touch, and gave him instructions. Right from how to chop each vegetable, how to set the cooker, how to knead the dough, all the time keeping in mind how to make it simple and easy for him. Every time he picked up the knife, my heart missed a beat. Not because he might throw it at me, but my fear that he might hurt his finger. I felt like his mother who was looking out for her eight nine year old child learning to cut vegetables for the first time. It took him ages and I just got so tired standing there watching him patiently, curbing the urge to grab the board and do the cutting myself. But not bad, from how we started, we have managed the last few day very well, and he has been following my directions to the T and dishing out tasty dishes. He has been cleaning up the house too on alternate days with my son pitching in with the laundry, watering the plants and filling up the bottles with drinking water.
As my days of isolation are nearing to an end, I dread getting back into the house and reclaiming my responsibilities of running it full swing. Now, I wake up at whatever time I please and sleep whenever I feel like. Though to be fair to myself, i try to go to bed latest by 11:30 pm , but I lay awake in the dark room with my brain racing with thoughts, ideas, stories , anxiety attacks and many more imaginative things which feel so real. All this with my eyes tightly shut trying to sleep with a prayer chant on my lips. Talk about multi- tasking! I read, lie down whenever I please, just clean my room sparkling clean and the bathroom ofcourse with the new disinfectant wipes if you please. Talk to my friends for hours, attend all the zoom calls from different groups and empathise with all my friends who have suddenly got transformed into a ‘Bai’ due to this rampant spread of the Pandemic.
But them today I realised, its only a matter of four days before I transform into Hemabai and take over the chores of the house, only with the hope that having experienced it , my boys will help me with my load!
It’s World Poetry Day today. What a better day than to write an Ode to Poetry!
An Ode to Poetry
By Hema Subramanian
You dig deep into my soul
You understand what I feel
You help me tell the world
In words that can only be poetry
You tell a sad story at times
At time deep revealing truth
Sometimes you make fun of situations too
All bundled in your beautiful form of poetry
Different names you have for different expressions!
A limerick, a haiku, a Ballard a sonnet,
May be a satire, a tanka, a cinquain or Acrostic
But expressions with a play of words that form poetry
Some write you in simple words
Some in complicated puzzles
And yet some showing the power of their words
Any form it may be you give me peace dear poetry!!
Poesy 