by Parth Pandya
You may be
Of you mother’s womb
But you are of my brow
And my sinews and bones
And that mind that never ceases
To wonder about you
Is life’s irony writ
On your crinkled little face
That a man of thirty years
Searches for himself
In a boy of thirty days?
What August rains
And striking days of summer in May
Await us
While we bide our time?
Growing, inching forward, you and I
What unuttered words, smiles and tears,
What careless pronunciations
Of words we hold dear,
What blistering scraps for
Beliefs we differ on,
Lie ahead of us?
How goes our journey together,
From inception to conclusion?
The start: You, light as a feather,
Cradled in my arms
The end: I, lighter than you
Hoisted on your shoulders.
Parth Pandya is a passionate Tendulkar fan, diligent minion of the ‘evil empire’, persistent writer at http://parthp.blogspot.com, self-confessed Hindi movie geek, avid quizzer, awesome husband (for lack of a humbler adjective) and a thrilled father of two. He grew up in Mumbai and spent the last eleven years really growing up in the U.S. and is always looking to brighten up his day through good coffee and great puns.
