We have a globe in our hands
“Mamma! Why don’t we go on a vacation?”
My daughter pops up this question every other day.
“We can go in the evening, or tomorrow
or on this Sunday.”
Oh yes! We will go. We will go.
I tell her a lie. Then epilogue of lies.
“See! We have a globe in our hands. Where do you wanna go my princess?” We laugh soft pretentious.
The laughter is a seal, we keep in store for special purpose.
Before sleeping she reminds, ”mamma story!”
I narrate the tall peaks, how snowy it is there
we can’t go now. I speak about the deserts,
how burning it is there, we can’t go now.
I picture before her the ocean.
How the weather is harsh there.
We can’t go now.
We can’t go now. Baby… we can’t… goodnight! Sweet wandering!
Feather-keepers
Some childhoods
are isolated fields;
unnoted sun
gleaming alone;
play with
pebbles, soil;
deeply rooted
emptiness; butterflies
gleeful in their own
little word. Some
children run after
Age, to catch
chimeric happiness,
growing up sooner
with covert wisdom,
picking up feathers
discarded, caring,
loving, nursing them,
feeding light,
reading them
tales of heroism
and lulling them
to dreams of comfort
and closeness.
Ojasi Mehta is an emerging bilingual writer and a cultural activist from India. Presently, she teaches communication skills and human values to engineering students. She is a travel enthusiast and is deeply in love with mighty waves.
