To nithila on her b’day

Dear Chintoo,

Why are words failing me,

Me- who can convey to the T?

This bitter-sweet feeling of knowing yet not

The transformed you, as I give it a thought.

Driven by a Narcissistic fervour

Did I want to cast you in my mould?

The free spirit that you were,

You dared to escape my hold.

Your flight then on, has been a sight

To behold and cherish forever,

Not hurting the hands you left,

But a vision the eyes would treasure.

Your presence so felt yet elusive,

Like the scent of petals held,

Seems to mock at my assumption naïve,

That your stand I could foretell.

You turned out to be a thinking person

Who would draw from life experiences,

Stereotypes and time-tested patterns,

Were not for you of consequence.

I look at you and raise in salute my hand,

Admiring your gentle and sensitive approach,

Even as you firmly keep your stand,

Leaving no room for reproach.

Is my motherly instinct working overtime,

Or is it the stubborn Taurean bull in me,

That in spite of such assurances fine,

Grudges to relinquish my responsibility?

Now that I look back on days bygone,

I realize that there has been forever,

A silent struggle to break free and hold on,

Between us daughter and mother.

Come what may, I would not trade

All that happened for any other,

For I have relished thoroughly,

And genuinely enjoyed being your mother.

May God Almighty always keep us together,

Helping us to learn more and more,

Tugging and pulling at each other

Whereby we help each other grow!