Kasthuri Mambazham

Our mom four score and going strong,
Is the epitome for giving,
Schooled no more than ten,
Ensured our basics strong,
Catering four on shoestring budget,
Managed steady thirty days between,
Would put any finance MBA to shame.

Never had surplus,never complained,
Took things as they came,
Intelligent quotient very high,
Evenly matched with wisdom high,
Stands tall though height no more than five,

Is a pillar of strength to behold.

Crisp with starch, neatly ironed and draped,

Would make anyone squirm  with shame,

Bottles standing neat in rows,

Stacked, clean, shining vessels, 

Kitchen is always a pretty sight,

Better still the dining table, 

Spread with all her culinary skills.

Every single thing has a place of it's own,

Never ever to find a displaced thing,

Is the place called our home.

Blessed with the same twenty four hours,

Optimum use without any trouble,

Staying alone skips no chores, 

Yet very methodical  to the core.  

As time goes by  one mellows with years,

Age is a number just  in the head,

Not the count of  bygone years, 

Living  life well is worth so much,

Enough to be an example for us.

A thousand pleasant thoughts,

Overshadowing unpleasant ones,

So much to say so little said,

Ink and paper will not suffice.

Dignified ,composed with words of wisdom,

Soothes all doubts and fears away,

Instilling  confidence as always,

And to squarely face adversity if it comes in the way.

Words can't express our gratitude,

To our mother whom we love so dear.

Sharing 'n Giving

Compassion is something which comes from the inside. No one teaches you about it.The willingness to share however little you have  wholeheartedly with others around you.It is spontaneous and does not need planning.

 We dig into our pockets for that ten rupee note to give the old bent woman walking along the road probably abandoned by her children who themselves are trying to eke out a meal each day, or ensuring the  pregnant young maid has at least one  nutritious meal each day and supplementing the food of the lactating maid, or paying the fees of her school children, or taking into consideration the color of her choice for buying a new sari for the festival once a year or buying a burger for the kid hovering near the bakery with eyes longing for the same or paying for  fees and books of the van driver's son who ferries your son to school each day and many more.

It is always a pleasure to give. Giving brings back more.It is really true.The joy of giving is beyond expression because the spontaneous expressions captured remain etched in our minds for ever.The right hand should never know  what the left gives and vice versa which is the secret of giving.

So why a day for compassion earmarked when giving and sharing is nothing but a personal choice to be made.

Wayfarer

Travelling across lands,

In the course of lfe,

Was nice to behold,

The sights and sounds.

Nicer still people enroute,

Sad and happy, 

With many tales

Said 'n unsaid.

Some with grins, 

Many  with wrinkled brows,

Partaking  joys 'n sorrows

Moved on like a roller in the ocean.

Day folded to months and years,

Dawn gave way to dusk,

T'o muse'n think of all that was well,

With a smile flit on the face.

To think again of what went wrong,

Waking from reverie remembered, 

Wayfarers do not go back in time,

Only move forward in the journey of life.