Who Am I?

Who am I?

Am I my mother's daughter,

woven from her silent sacrifices,

or my father's reflection,

bearing the echoes of dreams he never spoke aloud?

Am I my son's mother,

the shelter where his tomorrows take root,

or merely my husband's shadow,

walking beside another's light,

mistaken for my own?

Am I a homemaker,

measuring love in warm meals,

folded clothes,

and sleepless nights?

Or a professional,

wearing competence like polished armour,

while my heart wanders barefoot through forgotten gardens?

Or perhaps,

I fit nowhere at all,

too tender for a world

that applauds certainty

and mistrusts tears.

Yet I know this much...

I am a poem

still being written

by invisible hands.

Lyrics rise within me

like birds greeting dawn;

feelings stain my soul

the way rain awakens thirsty earth,

and every heartbeat

finds its own quiet rhythm in verse.

Love,

that glorious, unreasonable alchemist

has been my blessing

and my undoing.

It has turned every wound into a window,

every farewell into another beginning,

every tear into a pearl

the world may never see.

Call me foolish

for believing in impossible embraces,

for waiting when reason had long departed,

for loving with both hands open,

asking nothing

except the privilege of feeling.

I accept the name.

For I would rather spend one lifetime

burning with love

than a hundred years

untouched by its fire.

And if, one day,

I must leave this fleeting world,

let it be said

that I lived as I wrote,

and wrote as I loved:

fearlessly,

hopelessly,

beautifully;

a soul forever unfinished,

yet forever in love.

©®Madhumita

The Eternal Bougainvillea

Not all fair blossoms seek the praise of spring,

Nor every flower is born to fade unseen;

There blooms a vine whose frail, translucent wings

Outlive the dust where countless feet have been.

The bougainvillea, clothed in light and dream,

Ascends forgotten walls like Hope made fair,

Till ruined stones become a sacred theme,

And silence gathers incense in the air.

Its delicate leaves, though softer than a sigh,

Hold in their fragile palms eternity.

The royal purple and imperial flame

Flow down old terraces like evening's prayer;

Each blossom seems to breathe a secret name

The wistful wind has cherished everywhere.

They are the echoes of a deathless kiss,

Still lingering where parted lovers stood;

The crimson soul of longing fashioned this—

A bloom distilled from memory's deepest blood.

Beneath their shade I find your unseen hand,

As though our hearts obey one lost command.

Then orange burns with twilight's gentle fire,

While peach unfolds the blush of dawning skies;

No earthly flame could feed such pure desire,

For Heaven itself seems mirrored in their dyes.

Each branch becomes a bridge no years divide,

Where soul to soul, like rivers, softly run;

There every dream walks quietly beside

The golden footsteps of the setting sun.

The world dissolves; only our spirits stay,

Like birds that cannot learn the art of day.

Then comes the ivory bloom, with hints of gold,

Serene as prayers that greet the waking morn;

Its tranquil light enfolds the faint and old,

Where hope, long thought forgotten, is reborn.

It does not cry for wonder or acclaim,

But heals the heart with silence sweet and deep;

It writes your image in Love's deathless flame,

Where neither time nor grief has leave to creep.

There every petal is a sacred vow,

And every breath becomes forever now.

O wondrous vine, whose beauty none can bind,

Thou art no child of seasons soon withdrawn;

Thou bloomest first within the faithful mind,

Thou crownest earth with heaven every dawn.

Thou teachest that true love can never cease,

Though years should scatter all we once have known;

For Beauty is the everlasting peace

The Infinite has planted in the soul alone.

And when my heart, like evening, longs for home,

I seek thy blossoms climbing toward the blue,

For in their radiant hush I hear Love's voice,

And every flower becomes a path to You.

©®Madhumita

My Mother: An Army Wife and a Teacher

She wears two uniforms with pride,

One seen, one worn deep down inside.

A life of service, strength, and grace,

A steady hand in every place.

As an army wife, she stands so tall,

Through every silence, every call.

She holds the fort when he's away,

With courage lighting up each day.

She moves with life’s uncertain tide,

Packing dreams she cannot hide.

In homes that bloom then fade once more,

She plants her hope on every shore.

As a teacher, calm and wise,

She shapes young minds before her eyes.

With every lesson, thought, and test,

She gives her all, she gives her best.

No chalk can trace the strength she shows,

No book can teach the love she sows.

Through crowded rooms or quiet nights,

She shines with patience, firm and bright.

She teaches more than just the page,

She lives her truth on every stage.

With quiet power, she lights the way,

A guiding star by night and day.

She is the pillar, strong and sure,

A sculptor of the nation’s core.

In every role, she gives her part,

A woman with a lion’s heart.

©®Madhumita

#lifeskillscounsellor #motivationalspeaker #poet #writer #alzheimersawareness

My Mother

 

She wore two uniforms with pride,

One the world could plainly see,

The other stitched within her soul,

Woven with quiet dignity.

An army wife, steadfast and strong,

She stood through every trial and call.

When duty took my father away,

She became the strength of us all.

She kept our home with hopeful hands,

Through lonely nights and changing skies.

She hid her fears behind a smile,

And greeted dawn with fearless eyes.

She packed our memories, dreams, and prayers,

Each time the bugle called once more.

She turned unfamiliar walls into homes,

And left her warmth on every shore.

A teacher, gentle, calm, and wise,

She shaped young minds with patient care.

Each lesson carried more than words—

She planted hope and purpose there.

No chalk could ever measure her worth,

No textbook held the life she gave.

She nurtured hearts before she taught,

And raised the timid to be brave.

She taught of honesty, kindness, and grace,

Of standing tall when life was hard.

She never preached the things she knew,

She lived each lesson from the heart.

Yet as a child, I failed to see

The quiet love behind her ways.

I mistook her strength for distance,

Her discipline for colder days.

I wondered why she seemed so firm,

Why duty often came before.

I did not know she carried burdens

No child could ever ask her for.

Now silence fills the space she left,

And memories knock upon my door.

I search for one more gentle smile,

One more embrace I can't restore.

Now I understand the sacrifices

Hidden in each sleepless night,

In every prayer she whispered softly,

In every battle she chose not to fight.

She had been shaping not just students,

But quietly shaping me as well.

The courage I wear, the strength I hold,

Are stories only time could tell.

Her voice still echoes in my choices,

Her values guide the path I tread.

Though time has taken her from my sight,

Her love lives on in all I've said.

If I have learned to rise again,

To meet the storms and never bend,

It is because she walked before me,

A mother, teacher, guide, and friend.

She was the pillar, firm and true,

A silent force through joy and pain.

A sculptor of tomorrow's world,

Whose legacy shall still remain.

To countless children she was a light,

To one brave soldier, constant grace.

To me she became life's greatest lesson—

A love no absence can erase.

Today I speak the words too late,

The ones my younger heart had missed:

You loved me more than I had known...

And now you're the one I forever miss.

Though heaven claimed your gentle soul,

Your strength still beats within my heart.

For mothers like you never truly leave,

They live in every child they helped become.

©®Madhumita

Moonlit Waiting

I love to watch the moon, pearly white, softly aglow,

Serene in her silence, with a gentle, timeless flow.

She knows the night's embrace will soon dissolve with dawn,

Yet wears a quiet smile until the darkness is gone.

Hope flickers in her heart like silver on the sea,

Love shines through every beam she scatters endlessly.

Perhaps that is why I find myself in her light,

A soul still waiting through another sleepless night.

With love long lost, yet never truly laid to rest,

I cradle patient dreams within my hopeful chest.

My eyes stay open wide, lest destiny pass through,

For every moonlit vigil is a silent prayer for you.

©®Madhumita

KHUDA HAFIZ ( GOOD BYE)

 

Oh no! Not again! Everybody had warned me. Asked me not to go back to him, specially Ma'am- my best friend, my Mom, my mentor( the closest I was to).  How will I tell her ? How do I face her?

I pick up my mobile. " Hi sweetheart!", said the voice so dear to me. " Ma'am I have to see you", I said shaking. " Right so when? Tomorrow, the day after?" ...she asked.

" No Ma'am. Not tomorrow , nor day after. We have a wedding in the family." 

"Right! No worries. After that is Karvachauth, let's fix a day after that. Either we meet at Mc Donald's Dariyagung or CP. Whatever suits you darling, let me know, " she said and after the pleasantries I hung up.

I wasn't myself. I was just a mere shadow of myself. I could not just forget the pictures that my friend had forwarded. He was seeing this girl, whom I knew so well. They went to Agra and spent days. Allah! What is happening to me? I feel so let down. I offered myself , my soul, my everything to him and he ditched again? I look at my parents , my sister with whom I had fought with, blamed them for nothing...my eyes turn misty with the salty water. I move my face away. I do not have the appetite to eat. Ammi feeds a few morsals with her own hands. I feel like throwing up. She oils my hair and I go off to sleep. 

"Aafreen chalo, Mamu ke yahan jaanaa hai", that was Ammi asking me to get up. We had to leave for her brother's place. I looked at myself in the mirror opposite my bed. A ghostly face looked at me- dishevelled hair, darkness smudged under eyes, parched lips. I was scared. I jumped out..felt the small lil lump in my belly. Perspiration beads appeared on my forehead.

" Kya hua? Taiyyar nahi hui?", said Ammi as I wasn't ready." I don't want to go. Aap ho aaye.  You all go. I will rest",without looking into her eyes I said. I didn't want to speak . 

They left...Ammi asking me to have my lunch on time. After a while Abbu too left for his office. I locked the door.

 I stared at myself in the mirror. My hands over my stomach- was the bump visible or not! What will I do now? I already aborted twice. Should I call Ma'am? No she will be busy. As it is I never answered her call. Why am I feeling thirsty? I finished a whole bottle of water. I am dizzy. Ohh! Armaan why did you have to do this to me?

 Slowly I got up. Took my favourite dupatta - a gift from him! Tied it tightly to the iron railing of the staircase. Yes! I wanted to go away. Go away from Armaan and his world of deception. Go away from all the people who loved me so much because I failed them . No I can never look up confidently now. It is all dark here. Not a single ray of light I see. 

 I slung the knot around my neck..tightened it a little and hung.

  "Khuda hafiz"!!! 

I suffocated...my eyes...they pained....Aapi, Aapi was all I could hear and a banging on the door by Javed before I fell asleep.

©®Madhumita

* It is so important to talk . Please identify such people around you, communicate, assure, love...help them find a new meaning to life.

Bougainvillea Evenings

Magenta skies and purple light,

still haunt my lonely heart tonight,

Like bougainvillea drenched in sun,

they whisper days when we were one.

Within your arms so warm and deep,

my timid soul would softly sleep,

While crimson blush upon my face

would bloom beneath your tight embrace.

Your fingers wrapped around me slow,

like tangled vines that cling and grow,

And every breath you drew from me

became a tender melody.

The branches swayed, the flowers sighed,

as youthful longing bloomed with pride,

And shy desires we could not name

set all my trembling heart aflame.

Still today those colours stay,

though years like rivers slipped away,

For purple evenings still impart

the ache you planted in my heart.

And when the bougainvillea climb

across the fading walls of time,

I feel your arms around me yet,

a love my soul cannot forget.                                                                                                                     

Beneath the dusk’s lilac refrain,

your name still falls like summer rain,

A quiet fire, soft yet wild,

that wakes the dreaming in me, child.

Though seasons turned and shadows grew,

my heart still keeps the shade of you,

Like petals pressed in hidden art,

your memory lives beneath my heart.

©®Madhumita