I cannot think of a title for the last poem of 2017

Last year,

I had a lot of people to thank for making me feel alive

This year,

I have myself

I bid adieu to 2017,

Making  sense of the rebellion inside me

Rebellion that has become second nature

So it has even stopped asking for my permission

Before flaring up illusions to pieces

Before setting fires to the imagined

Because it all came down to the three-dimensions

though I may have even seen a fourth

I woke  up to a snowfall and my lips rose in a curve

I didn't realise I was smiling until my jaw hurt

I was a wide-eyed kid in the moment I saw the whites

And gave that effortless smile

I fear

I may not experience again the magic as it froze

I once slept by the riverside in a place with colorful walls

I fear

My feet and those waves might never get close

Not a moment went by, that I regretted

So I fear

If I will ever say the same of any coming year

But this year also taught me:

I fear only what I look forward to

And so I look forward to all of those

But most of all,

I learnt this new thing

I know

I am going to practice a lot

I said no.

xoxo

College, growing up and Mommy

To be a recluse means you are a recluse even at home. Which meant that for a major part of my life, I was introverted by nature and never really had "those" conversations with anyone in the family. Mom was no different then. Throughout my school life I was always that nerd who is always engrossed in books, textbooks alternated by novels and major non fiction. This is my personality till date.

Soon enough, life happened. I started college and reality stuck me dumb more times in a day than I could count.
I never realised that I'd need anyone more than the roles they played uptil then. I couldn't have been more wrong.
So, college kept me busy. If the studies weren't enough, I would further be engaging in societies and clubs, bagging internships and fellowships. I was literally slogging my ass off every night. Sleep reduced to a petty 4-5 hours.
Everything added up and took a toll. 

To say that the two years of college have been a roller coaster would be a fierce fierce understatement. I have been lost, I have been found. I have lived myself hated myself. Battled countless psychological conditions. Been good to people. Been rude to people. Pursued catharsis. Pursued energy. I have made friends, created bonds, mended broken ones, ruptured new ones.
Been involved in community, society and multiple groups.
Acting as if I am grown up, as if I am ready for this all.
I have cried alone. (Yes alone because some things never change) And truth is I am all grown up and mature to handle all of life on my own. I run this book blog. I have a larger community of fandoms. I haven't been more alive. EVER.

You might think, this was supposed to be about my mom. Why am I making this about me? Am I that shallow and selfish?

Trust me, it IS indeed about me. All through this phase where I had been alive, learning umpteen new things everyday, I was also bringing these ideas and constructs home. I am in the transition phase where I am on my path to independence in the true representation of a modern woman. And I te ideas I bring home, the theories I propound are at best radical for my mom. Initially when I started all of these extra curricular activities, She would be reluctant to send me off to dingy places. Within the precinct of reason, I used to resist that reluctance. I saw the helplessness in her eyes: a typical teenage daughter getting rebellious. Only, it wasn't typical. Turns out, two years and a lot of friction and arguments later my mom is the most supportive human being you will ever meet. She is the one person too happy for words, at the prospect of her daughter flapping her wings and flying.

Yes her presence has always been comforting. And yes, on rough days, All I need to do is sleep in her lap and the tears start shedding. I talk to her about it if I want to, I don't if I think I can manage on my own. But her hands on my head, offering their warmth on my head are the greatest stress-buster.
I always have my mom to come home to, and it is a wonderful feeling.

She remains my first expert: the first one to challenge me, to get under my skin, the force to make me push my boundaries, and the ultimate refuge.

I was thinking of skipping a post on this day and theme, because well, loving your mom on Mother's day is too mainstream, (not to mention I did make her a fruit shake and chocolate frappe to beat the heat which considering that I am at odds with the kitchen is a Herculean task, a gift for her. Godrej appliances can take all credit they want.) this post's inspiration is courtesy Godrej and Indiblogger.

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