I sit on a chair Ammu on my lap, her cheek pressed to mine, nuzzling as if in want of
She walks down rapidly, a speed that belies what time it is. Her face is scrubbed, a hint of damp
We flew out on Christmas Eve, the five of us, to Florida for a family reunion. One that had been
“I don’t have a family.” Ammu looks glum as she sits beside her appa, her knees drawn to her chest.
It exists, this love between us, in the seconds you pause before you reply to me. It tells me you
I stand on the stoop, Laddu in my arms, the fall air refreshingly crisp. Ammu and Pattu walk along the pavement,
We reached the temple in the late afternoon, the sun playing hide and seek behind rain bearing clouds. Having done
We savor each moment. We look at the horizon together, our hands linked by the little ones in between.
I walk quietly, my footfall muffled by the carpet. The silence from Laddu’s room is reassuring. I am about to
The baby swing in the back yard sways in the breeze. I notice Ammu and Pattu in my peripheral vision
The leaves rustled and swirled in the wake of the car before me. As they settled into myriad patterns, I
I work, eyes narrowed with focus, brushing the silky locks to one side of her face. I make three parts
I woke to the shrill sound of the alarm going off at 5:00 AM. Saathi groaned and suggested snoozing another
In a couple of hours, we will wind down what has been an uneventful yet memorable two weeks of staycation.
I walk along the perimeter of my home, the bundle in my hand feeling heavier with each step. I pause
I stand by the foot board of the bed, a pile of much used, well-loved clothes on the rocker before
Dear Laddu, My left palm rests on the top of your head. The warmth from me seeping into you, lulling
I am by your side on the passenger seat. You are at the wheel, a picture of concentration. Your eyes
I stand by the bathtub watching you massage our baby with oil. The sun streams in from the half-open blinds
It is late in the evening. My almost 2 month old is sleeping in her bassinet. My ears are tuned