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richasmukherjee.com

love, laughter, pain, joy, life and its lessons, one word at a time

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happiness

Hand in hand


It should make me jealous but it fills my heart with joy.

It really should make me jealous but when I see you two together I just can’t stop smiling.

I see how those tiny hands find their way to you in the darkness, when my unyielding and fatigued body has tuned out her plaintive cries.

Those big brown eyes darting nervously to the door every few minutes, when the sun starts to set.

She will follow your footprints in the sand for miles till the tide finally consumes them.

She never tires of stroking your head when you surrender it to that almost invisible and tiny lap.

I’ve seen her hugging your t-shirts to fill her nostrils with you when you’re away.

That desperate moaning wail that stumbles and follows you to the door when you can’t stay.

Drifting in and out of sleep, so often she calls for you, a determined , demanding voice that I cannot tame.

That happy dance she’s choreographed just for you, the first man in her heart’s hall of fame.

I made her heart inside me, and I know for eternity I can stake my claim.

But that same heart has a beautiful, colourful, throbbing piece, with only her daddy’s name.

Vanish


What will happen on a day when you want to be nothing?

Not a frustrated employer with repetitive instructions.

Not the earnest employee trying to save the world from nuclear catastrophe by shooting off that one last email.

Be gone the anxious wife constantly casting the web of a healthy diet onto a reluctant soul.

Be gone the constant mother with that constant spoon full of food, running that daily marathon.

Be gone always the little daughter, terrified of what might take them away.

I don’t want to be a friend , foe or relative today.

I don’t want to make phone calls, I don’t want to be devout and pray.

I’ve shed my skin, and with it all my responsibilities for the day.

I want my world to be restitched with a blanket, stormy rain, a piping hot mug of coffee and an old tattered book.

I’ll cover myself from head to toe, and imagine myself perched by a murmuring brook.

I was whole, but I know little pieces of me that my ‘everyday’ took.

I am nothing today but I’ve found my old self, even if for a moment, nuzzled in a cozy nook.

Imagine


I saw it. Clearly. And then it was gone.

A white fluffy rabbit jumped over the sun and suddenly became a reindeer.

Did you see that? Did you see?

There is so much I see that goes unseen.

When I look at the gnarled bark of a tree, a wrinkled old man always peers back at me.

A receding dance of spilt water on the table always leaves an anaconda in it’s wake
.

When the rain is splattering the windshield relentlessly, a liquid fireworks display breaks out in front of my eyes.

Just the other day I saw a battle unfold at the bottom of my cereal bowl.

With rebellious flakes of corn battling the elements on tides of tumultuous milk.

The tree behind my house, billowing in the breeze often guides me with its big leafy hand, when I find myself heading in no particular direction.

Coffee stains on important pages, so dramatic, so decisive, yet depicting myriad scenes from day to day life.

Do they find me or am I looking for them?

Isint it ironical though?

There are no boundaries to the imagination, in a world defined by them.

Perspective

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When is too much enough?
From the time we are born, it’s a steady diet of superstitions.
Don’t laugh too much, or you will end the day crying.
That’s too much happiness. Don’t jinx it.
I’ve had too much good luck, I’m in for a downward slide for sure.
Is it that we are scared of utter happiness?
Or is it just second nature to doubt normalcy and stability.
Why must our hearts be gripped with weary predictions of doom,
When it’s just so much easier to be happy and carefree?
Does an empty house with bare walls make you pine for what was?
Or does the resident laughter, the memories, the echoes that ricochet off the ceilings, rebound into your heart and light it up like a Christmas tree?
You can’t stop the sun from setting, the lights from dimming, the darkness from descending every night.
But what you can do, is welcome the rising sun with a smile, and tell yourself, that whichever side of the bed you get off, your glass will be half full every day of your life.

Little lessons

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It felt like a day that should be forgotten, quickly.
Nothing made sense.
I looked at a wall, and upon this vast canvas I painted and projected all my contemplation.
Then suddenly you crawled into my lap. I hugged you and breathed in your tiny soft curls.
I will never forget that smell.
It was a heady mixture of baby powder, happiness, innocence, trust, joy and peace.
It carried me away on a cloud.
I was weightless, drifting, with your tiny trusting fingers wrapped around mine.
You gurgled and burped. This amused you so much that you toppled over laughing.
When was the last time I had embarrassed and entertained myself this way?
Back on the ground you crawled over everything that came your way, never losing that smile.
I wish I had thought of your resolve and tenacity when I needed it recently.
When you wrapped your tiny finger around mine, I knew I had to trust in my instincts as well.
For all the fancy schools and colleges and miles upon miles of books,
Some of life’s simplest lessons can be carried in the tiniest hands, you just need to know where to look.

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