Warmth In Winter

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I find her entranced in a thick book- she is awed! I snooze near her, enjoying the warmth of the heater in the unhappy cold of a dire winter. An hour later, I open my eyes and she is still in the same position, the book on her lap.

“Interesting , eh?”

No response.

I take a peek.

‘Adventure of the devil’s foot’

“Are you understanding it?”

She looks at me with that ‘I do not expect that from you’ sort of a look.

I grin. And snooze again.

This time, it is late and the book and the child are still in their places.

“Time to sleep,” I say.

“Five more minutes”, she says. It is neither a request nor a plea. It is a statement-typical of her.

Five minutes later, I cough meaningfully.

She closes the book.

“What was the adventure?”

“The empty house,” she says with a prim expression.

As I tuck her into her winter blankets, and turn the heater around, I realise that certain classics will always get the chill away from our souls.

On the bed, was Penguin’s ‘Classic Sherlock Holmes’. And already smiling in her sleep, was the youngest fan  in the family- enchanted by the inimitable detective of 221B Baker Street.

The suffocating winter cold fails to depress my spirits.

When a child reads happily, that joy is warm enough to  withstand the severest of  life’s winter winds.

Tail piece:

I  search for and finally find  an old copy of Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple stories.  Dusting it, I slyly put it next to Holmes.

Certain manoeuvres have to be silently executed for success. Especially with little girls full of ‘ I do stuff my way’ attitude.

Let us see now, if that old lady captivates her too!

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What certain women would like to speak

.courage

  1. If you think you can crush me, oh please-

You are sadly mistaken.

Sorry to disappoint you,

But I was born with a stubborn gene –

Which gathers strength with each attempt

Of humiliation, defamation, degradation.

And I was born with a funny bone too

That laughs with derision at every manly effort

To make a joke of my life.

Do check with those who love me,

You might be surprised

How much we laugh together,

As we dare to grow more lushly

Every beautiful day.

2.

It hurts , does it not

To see joy where you imagined sorrow?

Words, where you imagined terror?

Life, where you imagined death?

You have been encroaching into my sanctuary

Even after the boundaries closed shut long before,

Trying to spread the deep malaise of your nature

To infect the roots  of my happy  tree

Poisoning everything green around

With your fumes of hatred, lies and malice.

You have gone raving mad in the attempt,

I am merely bemused at your antics.

My roots go deep down the earth of my own truth

Which , is deeper than the whole falsehood of your beliefs.

Because, my truth is this:

Every human being deserves to be free- from what ails it

And be happy.

Try that bitter medicine for your chronic illness.

****