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My teacher once asked
a short simple question.
She had asked,
"What do you want to be?"
Raised arms answered her query.
Open palms each belonging to excitable children.

Wide little eyes looked up at her.
Hands began to flail in the air...
Ever so hopeful of being chosen.
So that they could voice their aspirations.
So that they could begin to share.

One by one,
they each was given the opportunity.
Turn by turn,
boastful were some
while others spoke quiet and shyly.

Then the teacher stopped short.
Not before expressing her delight.
She was in awe of such young minds...
Having had such great wings
to eventually take flight.

Then she explained...
What she had initially meant.
Confused looks all around including me.
She rephrased the question,
"What kind of person...
Do you want to be?"


There was silence.
No arms shot up to meet the subject.
I don't recall having raised mine,
but I remember telling the teacher...
An answer (I was confident), she wouldn't expect.

I stood at my desk,
proud and tall...
And told the teacher
that I wished to be a person...
Well loved by all.

She smiled and I did too.
I felt it was a good answer.
She nodded to signal for me to take my seat again.
She paused before speaking,
and not a moment later.

She said,
"That would be nice.
To be loved by all.
But that's close to impossible.
A big wish for someone so small."


I had heard her words clearly...
However I didn't understand.
My brows furrowed...
And I was deep in thought...
Still I couldn't comprehend.

28 years later...
Here I sit,
looking back to that time in the past.
How time flies...
It simply ticked away...
All too fast.

Till just then I was still that boy...
Who tried hard to please.
I wanted to prove that it wasn't impossible.
You can be loved by everyone,
and you can do it with ease.

But now I have learnt.
Now I have found meaning
and understanding in my teacher's wisdom.
It took me a while but...
I know now...
That wishes and reality don't work in tandem.

You can choose to care and love,
everyone you see.
But to expect everyone to love you the same...
Is sheer
impossibility.
.
You can't please everyone in life.
When you work around people, you're bound to step on some toes...
Whether intentionally or not.

Dedicated to my primary school teacher
and all the teachers out there. A tad early but...
Happy Teachers Day.
.
i.

light in lazy pools
patches of shadow
like closing doors.

ii.

i float
like a ghost
open the sky
like a love letter.

iii.

a bird hovers,
shudders to
a sky that
unwraps its
dreams like
inky pools.

iv.

greyer than ghosts
that kiss for my
lips,
that trembling
of my heart
just for you.
Gentle falls the rain
A drizzle on senses
Cool drops on a warm eve
A symphony of water and trees
Mystic sounds - of the earth and the sky
Soothing the mind
Quietening the heat of a day of unrest
Brightening the hibiscus to a deeper crimson
Glowing with beads of water that cling
Unwilling to let go
As if they know
Some secrets of the green

And I - intoxicated
With the heady scent of a soaked earth
And the fragrance of motiya
Mellow basil that glistens wet
Like the parched, brown earth
That eagerly awaits the gift of clouds -
Like a lover
In the moist union of the elements
- Soak each drop with joy
Dreams are made of chocolate huts
With burgundy windows, cherry **** doors
Sweet icing on cream layered roofs
Almond -walnut -caramel floors

Dreams are made of iris and jasmine 
Jacarandas lined in purple rows
Tree blossoms in clustered cobs
Petals that dance like a ballerina's toes

Dreams are made of fern green forests
Oakwood trees  that cast a spell 
A  gossamer web of magic and charm
The music of clinking coins in a wishing well

Dreams are made of cerulean skies
Contrails of clouds in ivory snow
Violet mystic misty mountains
A  tangerine orb riding a rainbow

Dreams are made of romance laced nights
A golden peach vanilla moon
Venus lighting, igniting,love's fire
The silhouette  of love in rain soaked June

Dreams are made of turquoise seas
Calm waters stroked by gentle waves
Or enticed by the charm of a midsummer night
Waters that heavenly Cynthia craves

Dreams are made of silk and satin
Dappled with reds, greens and blues
But the dreams that I love to dream the most
Are all the dreams made of you
Written about 2 years ago
Diapers and politicians
need to be changed frequently
and for the same reasons

********

los panales y los politicos
hay que cambiarles a menudo
y por los mismos motivos
You burn with the morning dawn
Caresses and confessions
Redefining bakery
With the sugar of smoke on your lips

Dancing in jigsaw puzzles
Some pieces missing
With those called a past life

Shower
While I write sonnets on your mirror

Some local coffee shop
For lunch
With autumn air

Strange festivals of film midday
Botanical wildfire of a picnic forgotten
Late night haircuts with unskilled hands
Stars by lakeside
As drunken men stumble by

Soon clock renews like unmistakable moments destined for memory
Sleep calling our names while we call each other home
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