Eighteen years ago, on this day, to us was born a baby, our little son . A precious gift,, a bundle of joy from heaven. On the anniversary of our wedding day, a new lease of life the Lord gave, Heralding fresh hope, fresh dreams, another beautiful race .

When you were born, my childbearing days were almost gone . Those who heard and came to see, remarked you were a miracle . I thank the Lord each day for the blessing you are. Now that you are grown, almost an adult, your thoughts and desires are your own. Eager you are to set out and establish yourself.

No longer a little child we need to set you free. Like a baby bird , a fledgling, you will learn to fly. I pray the Lord to protect you, from all harm and danger, to body and soul.. To bless you with long life, and good health all the days of.your life . To shine His kindly light upon you, to lead you on the path aligned to His plan. I pray He holds you close, never to let you stray.

I pray His peace is with you always .to keep you still when cares overtake, to quell your fears when troubles overcome, to teach you that His grace is sufficient. To give you wisdom for the choices to make, to give you clarity when confusion reigns, to give you patience to persevere, in the face of deleterious challenges To teach you to be humble, even when victorious, and to rise and reach for the stars each time you fail.

I pray He sends angels, to keep you safe, to be your strength when you are weak, to guide you when you are lost, to hold you up when you falter. I pray there is always a shoulder to cry on, someone to build your faith when you feel betrayed. I pray the Lord looks on you kindly as He teaches you His ways .

And I my dear child, will always remain, the one who prays for you, day and night. The one to rejoice in your every small success, to share in your pain when sorrow strikes. however insurmountable. Mine will always be the arms you can fly to, when the world turns against you.

Gone are the times, of social gatherings, to meet to greet, to enjoy a meal. With the new trend of social distancing, even those few we call dear friends, we seldom see .

Gone are the days when life was simple, walking down the street or in the park, or a visit to the market place with its colourful wares, a sensorial delight. No fear of the jostling crowds, or the touch of a passerby, when each breath taken was careless, not the conscious effort of today.

To sit at the wayside cafe, in the late afternoons, savouring our favourite brew and the evening breeze, not a pastime to indulge in, anymore. When the unmasked were not our naked foe, but a friendly face, to exchange a wayward smile, or those sidelong glances .

With each new wave, with each new scare, we scurry down our rabbit hole. With the new familiar term ‘ quarantine’, we are often confined to our home. The musicals we enjoyed, the plays we frequented, are no longer conducted. With no cinemas or days at the mall, there is not much in the form of amusement. Now our weighty recreational decision being, should we watch Prime, Netflix or Disney.

Our travels restricted, those well curated family holidays, to remote, exotic destinations, or the excitement of traipsing out on a whim, for a casual weekend getaway, all belong to bygone days. Now we ask, should we take the car, or the bus, private transport or public, or is it prudent to just stay ?

Our qualification now a vaccine, our first line of defence with no guarantees but it matters whether it is single or double. Side effects are mild and negligible,they say, until you face the wrath of the occasional,unpredicted reaction. As many have now been jabbed, the outside world is marginally safe, while controversial debates still rage, on its efficacy.

Come rid us of this plague, we pray. Every day a new devastation we see. The closing of businesses, downing of shutters, the fall of empires the rise of new ones, jobs that are lost and crippling finances. Is it a crisis of the old in it’s new play, driving us through yet another disaster ?

Down the ages many a brutal war we fought, be it a pestilence or a deluge, a fiery eruption or a crashing meteor, our invincible spirit stood the test of time. We are made not for defeat, but to endure, to survive. To fearlessly conquer, each new destructive force. To reach forward for something better, something more beautiful.

Alas, words fail me, none I have to describe, the incomparable woman who gave me birth, who nursed and raised me, who passed on the baton of love, independence and strength, my beloved mother, most dear .

Your sustaining presence I feel, even when you are no more, Your love encompasses me, when all else around fail me. Yours is the comfort I seek even now, in my deepest darkness.

Where do I start, where do I begin? When women’s independence was still a myth you found your own. Times were tough, you were just a girl, raised by a mother who was single, widowed when she was young, with two little children. But that didn’t stop or limit you.

Barely eighteen you left home, to seek your destiny, to pursue your passion of service to mankind, in healthcare. As studying to become a doctor was out of reach, you chose to become a Florence Nightingale, someone to tend the sick .

Alone in the big city of Madras, from a small town, your struggles I can only imagine. Not deterred, but brave and prudent, you pursued to obtain a degree, to excel in your field .Traditions you broke, casting convention to the winds you chose the path of a career. You taught us that freedom is a choice we make and enslavement is to be bound by customs.

When you had a family and children, a perfect balance you struck, without compromise to either. You had a well kept home, filled not with expensive decoration but with happiness and your loving care. Every night, after dinner was done, you burnt the midnight oil to teach yourself, to advance your skills. You taught us the value of time, to use it well and gainfully.

Each morning you started with thanksgiving and prayers .Though early, we had no choice but to participate. You said, our troubles may be many and arduous but when we wake in good health, to greet another day, it is the greatest gift from the Most High and worthy of all praise and honour.

Never too demonstrative, some would say even austere, you showed us Love is an action word .No wish you considered too small, no sacrifice too big, to help fulfil our hopes and dreams. And yet when we erred, you never shirked from correcting us.

Always neat in appearance and elegant you taught us that confidence and style comes, not from our fashionable attire, but from our faith within. Be it in the midst of chores or slaving over a stove, you were always presentable, ready to greet the unannounced and unexpected.

You taught us many a lesson. To speak the truth, to voice our opinion even at the risk of not conforming. To walk in integrity even when surrounded by deceit and duplicity. To treat with love and dignity, those who are weaker than us. To embrace our heritage but to cast out the archaic. To face each day with courage and hope, no matter what our circumstances.

Then when tragedy struck it’s crushing blow, shattering us all, it was to you we turned for solace. You helped put back the pieces together, slowly one by one, as we healed. You taught us there are times to seek the unknown, times to believe in the unseen and times to accept the unjust for life is not always fair.

Now at times when I catch my reflection,I see not me but you and wonder, did you ever end, where did I begin or are we the same continuum? Are our children the extension of our dreams, of our thoughts, that bind us together, as we pass on from generation to generation, the baton of life, love and liberty?

Walking in the sand ,I look back to see footprints, not just mine. More than one, there are many, as I danced through my life.

Walking in the sand, I look back, footprints I see fewer now. Family and friends I have left behind, as now I walk my path, with new responsibilities, new gravity.

Walking in the sand I look back, there are footprints coming, footprints leaving, Some to help cross that stormy seas, others to shoulder the weight, when heavily laden, and then there are some who try to break me .

Walking in the sand I look back, I see one set of footsteps, a constant. Through the thick and thin of life, through the perils and the joys, never leaving my side, always close by, always holding me .

Walking in the sand, I look back, oh now I see none, but just mine. Shuddering beneath the staggering pain, I walk alone in the shadow of death. Suddenly I feel weightless and calm, as my pain leaves and my fear is gone, for the One set of footprints I see, are not mine but of the One who carries me .

It is your birthday today. I long to greet you, but you are no more in the earthly realm .Prayers I will offer none, for you are with the One I pray to. Felicitations you don’t need, for you are where blessings abound.

One more time I wish to see,that loving face that gentle smile. One more time I desire to hear, that warm chuckle in response to my ‘Happy Birthday’.

Will you celebrate this your birthday, with the angels above ? Will they sing you a happy song or a ballad of times that were, as you look down and see me cry.

I comfort myself with the thought, that we will one day be together, to celebrate each other’s birthdays, as we did when we were young. Until then my dear brother, I will remember you every single day.

Once a home, now a ruin, a heap of sticks, a heap of stones. The paint peeling, the shutters creaking, the glass shattered, the doors shut, never to open again. Walking by I thought I heard it say, won’t you stop a moment, a story I have to tell.

Do you know those who once lived here? My face sagging my eyes straining, I wait for them to return. Coloured bright yellow with a pink trim, I once was much admired, the pride of my new owners. a small family I cherished.

They stood in front, the very lfirst day, the parents and the children, a handsome young boy, a sweet little girl and a small child. Prayers were offered to grace the occasion of the housewarming, with a small gathering of friends, to celebrate.. Oh what a day it was. a day to remember as I stood in all my glory.

Soon there was a small garden. planted with loving care . Emerald green grass out front, the back yard filled with fruits and vegetables. Palm trees growing tall, stood as mighty sentinels and when the wind blew strong, they bent down low to whisper to each other.

Laughter and light adorned this home, festivities there were many. A warm and welcome haven to those who sought its sanctuary. Children playing and cavorting, their pets, a cat that walked in, a squirrel they rescued and an abandoned rabbit.

The mother calling out when dinner was ready, the father returning home to enjoy a warm meal. After a short trip to church on Sundays, everyone stayed at home. Lazy afternoons with family and friends, time spent together in joyful moments . ‘Twas with great pleasure I enjoyed, being the dwelling of this little family.

Time went by, the children grew. I watched their progress, their success, their hardships, which they vanquished together. But one day when my guard was down, the evil forces walked in through a crack in the door, wreaking havoc in my home. Striking first with sickness and tragedy, then with discord and division, setting in motion events that could never be reversed.

I watched helplessly as they fought and struggled. Caring not anymore, they rejected me. Casting away my old creaking frame, they divided the land amongst themselves. The trees they cut down, the grass they trampled on and left me in ruin, to face the wrecking ball .

Was it my lack of vigilance, my moment of weakness that allowed dissension, entry into my once serene home ? With me I will carry, the joy of toils, the tears of pain, the dreams and aspirations, of those I once sheltered. The sorrow of disappointment, the echo of harsh words, the secrets that can never to be shared, seared into these old stones, I will take to my grave .

Listening to the story watching the tear drops fall, I saw not just an old house, not a ruin, but the spirit of a home, the warmth of love. I saw the doorway decorated with brightly coloured festoon for celebrations. I saw it dressed in black, through the throes of tragedy, I saw a lifetime flashing by, an era gone and my heart was filled with sadness for this another dream that would soon turn to dust .

Where once stood a home with a burning hearth, with the sweet aroma of cooking, with lilting conversations around a dining table, will now stand, a tall structure of steel and glass. A soulless space of many units. each with a microwave and modern gadgets, a breakfast nook and bar stools. TV dinners eaten alone, accompanied by strident voices from the many screens that are watched. Where once there lived five, now will live fifty, each lonelier than the other.

Oh what we do in the name of development , what we do to improve our lifestyle ? When will we stop falling prey to greed, when will we stop walking the path of destruction ? When will we keep our trees alive, when will we save our earth from caving in ?

To my little sister an ode I write, with my recently discovered, mediocre literary skills. For thirty two years I mourned your loss. Always present just beneath my consciousness, you are never far from my thoughts, your face I carry close to my heart .

It was when I was all of five, on a day when the sun shone bright, a day when the nation celebrated the birthday of Mahatma Gandhi, that I first set eyes on you. Reaching out my hand, I felt your little fingers curling around mine, in a clasp that said for life, which turned out to be a lie .

Like the doll I never had, you opened and shut your eyes, and smiled occasionally. Soon my friends I abandoned, devoting all my time to you . School a necessary evil to bear, as I looked forward to the end of the day, to return home to you .

On the day that you were christened, family and friends gathered to bless this little baby, oh so sweet! The angels above favoured you with beauty, wisdom and graciousness, while the devil laid a curse, unbeknownst to us. Maybe, through my eyes of envy .

Not much later, I lost interest. Walking and talking, no longer the acquiescent doll, you became a little person. Much to my annoyance, you followed me around constantly, just an irritant in my life .

Growing up you always yielded, to my many demands . Never resentful of my overbearing ways, you were quick to forgive and forget. As all chores I detested, to you was delegated every task. Even at the game of tea parties we played, you were always the host and I the guest.

Filled with warmth and good cheer, you brought joy to our lives. Loved by all for your kindness , like a magnet you attracted people, like a beacon you drew them near and friends you had many. You taught us love is patient, that a gentle word, a warm smile, could bring hope to the face of suffering.

But life in it’s cruel game of chess, checkmated you much too soon. On a day when the nation celebrated its independence, you were taken away, leaving behind a silence, filled with unspoken words. Words of appreciation, never voiced, words of remorse, never expressed, words of affection, never uttered. Leaving behind a void, for us to embrace.

Looking back I wonder unto this day, how we survived the agony, how we endured that heartbreaking tragedy. Your memories everywhere, hanging like branches of pain, each waking moment a nightmare, with no respite in sleep, Trying to bury your images with mindless distractions, then longing to shut our eyes, to raise them up again, we struggled through those endless days as we fell into a deep chasm of grief . Finally, time in its mercy, healed us slowly, with each new rise and ebb of life .

Now when life gets rough and overwhelming, or when it is most challenging, I still feel those little fingers, wrapped around mine and know that you are with me. For are you not that part of me, that strives on, even in the face of adversity, that part of me, that is loving and caring, that is warm and gracious. And no matter where you are, you will always remain, my little sister, my greatest ally, even from beyond.

Dedicated to my darling sister, Shirley Kuriakose .

A pair of wings lying on the ground, turquoise, white and speckled black. None so brilliant I ever saw, but bereft of a body it was.

Those lonely wings, lying there so forlorn, never to fly again but to soon lose their colour, as they wither away into the dust we tread. And I mourned their loss .

Gazing at them I recall, the time I lost my wings. The time when I was broken and lonely, seeking comfort for the hurt no one saw. A time when the heavens were silent and the earth offered no relief , in walked a friend to rescue me.

Spirited and energetic, she entered my life, like the friend ‘ in need ‘ . Calling, everyday, never deterred by the signs of withdrawal, she persisted in encouraging me. Whittling away at the walls of hurt erected around my heart, she revealed the beauty within.

A Weekly ritual was set , over coffee we met , which she called’ Tuesdays with Mary’. With great anticipation we looked forward, to sipping that brew, exchanging views, indulging in enlightening conversations. And learning to laugh again.

Not without faults she was but knowing our weakness, we strengthened one another. A bond so sincere we formed. Sustaining each other in times of trouble, we rode life’s ups and downs, soaring once again.

Now we speak less frequently, and our meetings are seldom, as it is with life. But knowing my friend is just a phone call away and will remain the wind beneath my broken wings, is all the comfort I need .

Friends for a season friends for life, they are God’s angels who come to help. Some for a while some to stay, but they deserve our love and gratitude, always. And above all, the greatest friendship we have, is with the One who laid down His life for us .

A dream, a reverie, beckoning from a distance, one so strange, yet so real. Sometimes a welcome friend, at others, the enemy we fight. Is it the imagination of a restless mind, or the actuality of our life ?

Like a picture painted on glass, the colours of love , the shades of hate, happy tones and painful ones, coming together to draw our feelings, only to shatter with wakefulness.

With clarity we remember some, seemingly a part of our life. Others vague, hidden by a cloud of confusion, leaving us searching for something nameless, something faceless.

A recurring vision or a random one, of a past life or a future yet to come. Some irresistible, some repugnant, where do they spring from, these unbidden images ?

Created deep within our soul, a display of our hope and desire, as they slip through our senses. Pleasure like warm tendrils enfold, fear like a foreboding mist, envelops, in the dark of the night when the mind is vulnerable.

Is it the consciousness of the Universe taking over our being, to impart knowledge from beyond, to unlock mysteries hitherto unknown? Do Angels visit from above, to renew our flagging spirit, to heal and enrich our soul ? Is the subconscious dream our reality and this life we lead the fantasy ?

Little Fatima stepped out with glee, her new pet by her side .She called him Pyari and tied a red bow around his slender neck. As her woolly, bob tailed friend, pranced around in joy, at this freedom, Fathima was the envy of the other kids .

Young Ahmed was delighted as he strutted down the street, flanked by his two long eared friends. He called them each by name, Danish and Darius , yanking them close with pride, proprietarily, every time they strayed, as he herded them home .

The children laughed and played, with these their newfound friends. Hours they spent grooming them, feeding them, and loving them, these hapless sacrificial lamb . Did those wretched creatures know, they were soon to be slaughtered ?

Their pitiful bleat, their wailing, filled the night air, as they gazed at the face of death, before the sacrifice. Then cane the men with the axe , the lamb and goats are slayed. Fatima, Ahmed and other children like them, they watched as their dear friends were silenced . If their hearts were broken, if those innocent minds were tormented, no one really knew, for they stood there laughing and greeting one another, on the festival day.