a work in progress

Category: Letters to Aru (Page 2 of 4)

Dear Aru (mid Feb, 2017)

My Dearest Aru,

I love you all over again.

In that deep unrelenting way.

And it is glorious.

My heart beat beat beats for you.

Boom boom boom.

My chakras spin for you.

And my feelings.

Oh. My feelings.*


We are buddies again.

It is glorious.

And I realise.

All over again.

And again.


How can I love you?

If I don’t love myself?


How can I honour you?

If I don’t honour myself?


How can I respect you?

When I don’t respect myself?

And so.


To love you,

I’m listening to me.

To my insides.

Hearing them say,


Karishma, take time out.

Karishma, stress less.

Karishma, do a little dance.

Karishma, get take aways tonight.

Karishma, go to work and do what you love.



Feel no guilt.

Feel no fucking guilt my child.

Just love yourself and the rest will follow.


And for you Aru,

I have the deepest, heartfelt, bloomingly, wild delightful love.

All for you.

Because I started with me.





*Sometimes my poetry comes from lines I’ve heard / read in the past. I don’t know how it seeps into the keyboard. But this line (and I had to share for you Jane Austen enthusiasts – comes from here (https://youtu.be/CgkS5_PTfZQ)  at 1:10). SWOON Moment!

Dear Aru, (end of March, 2017)

You are my barometer. 
Yesterday and today, I didn’t want to be around you. 

I wanted a break. 
But why? 

You’ve been at daycare most of the week! 

Your dad is here to help. 

So why. 
Don’t I want to be with you? 

I feel like you steal time away from me. 

Steal opportunities from me. 

Steal peace from me. 
To browse a store. 

To capture a moment in a gallery. 

To be at peace, flicking a page in a novel. 
Darling Aru. 
I know now.

As I learn over and over and over again. 
These are simply things. 
I have not given myself. 

And I really truly need to. 
Prioritise them. 
So I can come home to you. 


My Dearest Aru (late Feb, 2017),

There was a time in our lives. 

When for a week or two, 

It was just, 

Me & you. 

And on a dark Friday, 

You had a febrile seizure. 

I’d never seen a seizure before. 

I thought you could die. 

Or get brain damage. 

It was the most horrifying experience I’d ever been through. 

Watching your body loose control, 

Your eyes peering at me in confusion as if to say, 

“Why is this happening Maa?”. 

I caught you trembling, your eyes dilating. 

Beseeching my sister, “What do I do D?”. 

After you stopped trembling, my whole body started. 

  1. 111. 000. 999. 
  2. I didn’t know the number to make the fucking call. 

Finally it went through. 

You were breathing. 

You were breathing. 

You were breathing. 

8 minutes for the paramedics. 

But the worst was over after that. 

But I was anew. 

Wedded to you in a different way. 

Melded even. 

And in that fucking moment. 

I knew. 

I knew that even if I never really understood the word “love”. 

If I ever doubted that I loved you. 

That I truly loved you and wanted you in my life. 


I loved you, breathed you from my deepest insides. 

For now, there is a seamless thread in our lives. 

You begin where I end. 

As if that cord was never cut. 

So my dearest Aru. 

Don’t you dare go trying to die on me. 

Because it really might just be the death of me. 



Dearest Aru (mid December, 2016)

Dear Aru, 

Your love for me is so tender. 
I am enamoured. 
You wouldn’t let anyone take a plate, cup, seat or a sip from me. 

You’re my defender, my protector. 

Making sure my place in the world is secure and you’re barely 3. 
If I arrive, nothing else matters to you. 

Maa has arrived. 

There is song. 

There is laughter. 

There is excitement. 

And on my luckiest of days, there is a run. 

A run upon a path that leads directly to me. 
My darling. 

A love like this? 
I never knew. 
Oh I saw it in your father when he stood against all for me. 

Fearlessly and without a shade of doubt. 
But that love. 

I never expected from you. 

Had hopes from you. 
You owe me nothing my child. 

And here you are. 

Giving me your whole world, upon your little steel plate. 
Here Maa. 

I got this for you. 


Dear Aru (early November, 2016)

Dear Aru,

It’s been a long time since I wrote of you.

In this way.

Today, you woke up halfway in the middle of your nap and your Papa told me to cuddle you for a bit. Perhaps you’d go back to sleep.

So I came in, picked you up and cuddled you into the crook of my arm.

The place you seem to love falling asleep in.

From the early days when you’d nod off after a feed.

And your fair face.

Eyes so angelic.

Your pouty lips.

And your blunt nose.

All like a little bit of heaven.

I say this all the time, but I like you even more now.

Perhaps these days won’t come back.

When you turn around hoping we’ll come chasing after you.

When you love it that I tickle your thighs.

Perhaps these moments will quickly become memories.

When you beg me to read a book 3 times over.

When you give me the last of your raspberries.

When you stare at a cat and scream, “CAT!!!! CAT!!! CAT!!!”, as if it’s won a Guinness Record.

Perhaps we’ll never get this again.

Never get this moment in the sun again.

With you.

When we really are your world.

Your world really does revolve around our laughter and our love.

This heaven.

Might never come back.


My love.

I just had to write it down, to tell you.

That there was a time.

When you once felt about us.

In this magnificent way.



Potty Training

Potty training Aru has been challenging.

I’ve watched V and I both become anxious and restrained in the process.

I realized part of my reasons to do it (aside from the fact that I think he’s ready), were also to avoid negative taunts when we travel to india. Which isn’t fair on Aru.

But I’ve also begun to realize (like many times before). He isn’t in my control.

I’m seeking solutions and answers and rectification. I don’t like things being inconvenient or harder than usual.

I’m so ready to challenge myself with work. But with Aru, I expect him to fit into my mould. Do as I say. Not challenge me.

And that is simply.

Not fair.

Sorry Aru. I’ll cuddle you and read you some “Partytime” tonight and heck, you can have some chocolate just for being such a little legend – even if you don’t shit in the pan.


Love your Maa.

Blessing & Curses and Karmic Balance

Could it be possible that I love you more today than I did last year?
I’m in Paris. For 10 days. Alone. Without you.
But everywhere I go, I find thoughts of you.
Every little toddler with a dawdling walk, a troubled cry, a quest to stuff his face with hot chips. I see you.

And of course.
Of course.
It’s easier without you.
I don’t have a routine running through my head most moments of the day.
I don’t have to compromise on the things I’d like to delight in because of you.
Don’t even get me started with prams and access.
It is so so so much easier.

But the funny thing is.
I’d say easier doesn’t necessarily mean happier.

I want to stroke my fingers through your hair.
Rub your back and sneak my fingers through your t-shirt.
I want to massage your chubby legs and say, “Oh my handsome”.
I want to watch you delight in toddler pools and trampolines.
Watch you delight in more than half of my pain au chocolat.

I know now.
Missing you is the only karmic balance for being away from you.
And that is ok.
It’s all part of the deal.


Dear Aru, (Late August 2016)

They call it the terrible twos and I really know why.
But they forgot to mention that this is where the falling in love bit really happens.

Since we’ve gotten back from vacation it has taken us about 2 weeks to straighten out your wonky ways. And now.

Now you’re just delightful.

Every time you ask for a cuddle.
Say the word “kholo”.
Every time you start crying because the bike seat is too high.
Or better yet, when you demanded milk from the nanny so convincingly, she gave it to (at 5pm instead of 6pm).
Every time you flirt and look away to any woman’s delight.
You want to be read “book” and get bored two pages in.

There is something cuter, more loveable if I may dare say so, about you.

I’m glad we got to here.

I’m coming to terms now with the fact that it’ll never be a bed of roses.

And I have a feeling that’s how we got to here.


Dearest Aru, (Early September, 2016)

Pure Love

Dearest Aru,

For the longest time, I’ve heard people say that children are innocent.
They’re pure love, pure reflections.

And I kinda get it now.

I get it.

Every need. Every nag. Every desire. Every quest of yours.

Has nothing to do with me.
It’s simply.


And with that. I can love you better.
Accept you better.
The hoops you put me through.
The strains.
Gosh. The damn pains.

All better.
When I know.
You’re just.


Dear Aru (Late August, 2016)

My dearest.
My darling.

I’m off on Friday.
For 10 days.
From you.
From life and all it’s responsibilities.
To breathe.
To be.

But my darling.
How do I let go of what is etched upon me?
Who will chase you around corners?
Push you on the swing?
Let you eat a banana when you’ve got a snotty nose?

My darling.
Your outfits are going to be a mismatch.
Who will run tender fingers through your hair?
I’ll be free to visit the bathroom alone.
But what will you do?
Without me?

My Aru.
We’ve been buddies again lately.
Found our rhythm.
Our balance.
We got our love language back.

Just don’t miss me too much and I’ll do the same.

Then it’s back to you and me buddy.

And our little wonderland of love and pain.
Push and pull.
Baths and noodles.

Hang in there my sweet.

And look after your Papa.
It’s harder on him than you.
It’ll always be.



Your Maa.

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