Mine , all mine

I remember like it is all happening now . He was six months old then and I would play with him . Not as a mother who plays with her child but more as an adolescent girl play acting at being a mother. I would love to bathe him and massage him . His tender soft body would arouse a deep sense of belonging and of proving that everything was fitted perfectly in my female body to carry out the task of giving birth . The prime task . Later on I would begin to have serious doubts on such linear thinking and as I grew, so layers of complicated perception added themselves on my mind , making such innocent joys a thing of rarity. But at that time I was constantly astonished to witness the living proof of my being whole , complete.The simple pleasurable task of looking after him gave me a great sense of joy ..his heavy fragrant weight settling on my chest when he slept, slung lopsided on my shoulders.

It was the waking in the nights , his shrill colic pain cries erupting suddenly , the strange red nappy rashes that made him fretful , the washing of huge bundles of soiled nappies and putting them on the clothesline , one after the other , till the terrace resembled an arena of triangular fluttering flags , the heavy pungent smell of urine soaked dirty clothes and bed rugs , the mixing of the baby formula early in the morning , the crazy routine of the day and snatching sleep like a deprived depraved junkie ..all these made me go berserk. But amidst all this frenzy , one moment I would find myself looking at him and finding suddenly like a huge blob of sunshine , his face wreathing in such beautiful radiant smile of recognition . And my heart would twist. Twist in such a sweet melody of love , that it would lodge itself in my throat in a huge big lump of emotion and I would pick him up and gather him close to my heart. My flesh and blood. Mine , all mine.

The third eye journey

It moves and rolls beneath the skin . The surface undulates ..small waves then rides over minor bumps and goose , trembles in miniature volcanic spasms , along the scalp, tingles and lingers for a breath moment , then behind the ears , at the back of the neck in the small feather hair then along the dimpled spine . the ridges and curves of the buttocks , then bifurcates like a river tributary along the back of the thigh , on the dimpled soft flesh at the back of the knee , on the indentations of the instep , the arch of the sole and touches the big toe , the small toe before curving on to the front , riding the trough now like a fast current , along the upper body , the chin and the eyes , the tip of the nose , settles there for a fraction then like a receding wave slowly moves back to the navel and in a frenzied whirlpool empties deep into it. Then like a living being beats slowly harmoniously in the pit . The lotus flower love blooming in the centre and the third wisdom eye bang in the centre of the forehead.

The cuckoo flew out

The days were beginning to get warm. A wind blew all the time whistling and whooshing past the window grill , lifting and swirling the dead rust leaves in a maddening eddy of one minute glory before settling them tamely down on the streets below. The wind chime, hung in a corner in the balcony, tinkled merrily in an excited chatter . The room was silent . The walls watched in hushed silence the body which lay supine on the mat. The naked torso shone with a matt dim shine , the row of tiny dimples along the ridge of spine and a lone flea hovered daintily above them.

His soul shimmered and trembled within the confines of the body , strained to get out and touch the sky , the trees , the pigeons , the little dark nook in the awning. He lay still , still in a tense strain. As if lying still he could let the soul fly away to far distant land and he would be connected to it through a thin invisible thread and thus be able to do all that he had ever wanted. So , lying absolutely still was the only way he could engage in intense activity.He counted seconds and then minutes. A haze rose above his eyes . He could see small black dots sliding past his cornea like minute rain drops. His breath came shallow then deep. Now. He thought . It is now .

His body creaked and then a window opened and the cuckoo flew out. The chime announced twelve.

It was time to get up and get on with the business of living.