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My grandpa was recovering from a hip fracture. He had been on bedrest for about a month after a successful surgery. One evening my grandma was showing me the snaps of my Dad of when he was a toddler. While looking at the photo of my dad holding grandpa’s hand for walking, an excited shout grabbed my attention. I saw grandpa trying to walk with dad’s support and my Dad cheering him up. I looked at them and then at the photograph and thought of this Stoem.

HOLD MY HAND

Coming into this big world,

the moment he opens his eyes

Having no idea about anything,

ahead is a life full of surprise

Two faces smiling down at him,

Fills him with comfort

A sense of security that in these hands,

he can’t get hurt

As time goes by and he finally,

gets his legs to stand,

At every small disbalance,

he grips that sturdy hand

Along with the steps forward,

those hands always have his back,

If something goes wrong,

they put him on the right track

These hands knew when to hold him,

or let him go on his own

Though they were not beside,

he was never left truly alone

Through school, college, jobs,

and all his ups and downs

From all his smiles and success,

to all his fails and frowns

The hands hugged him,

when he felt the need to cry

Encouraged him to keep going,

and give everything a try

Then again spins the wheels of time,

those hands are sturdy no more

The steps they take fumble,

aren’t as strong as they were before

 “Hold my hand mom and dad…”,

his hands this time he extends 

The three figures walk along the path

A beautiful cycle comes to an end

 

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I was working on a school project on the Goals of the United Nations. One Goal which made me think was “ZERO HUNGER”. It talked about the plight of farmers. It also reminded me of the visit of my dad’s friend from the village. His kids wanted to see the city and also had a desire to have Pizza. We decided to dine at a famous pizza joint and were browsing through the menu. My uncle, who is also a farmer was staring continuously at the prices with saddened eyes.  Observing him I enquired what was wrong. With his gaze still on the menu he said that what we were paying for these pizzas is a month’s income of a farmer. Ironically, Farmer is the one who has grown all that makes this Pizza. His smile was failing in the attempt of hiding his dismay. I pondered on this for a while and decided to write about this in relation to “ZERO HUNGER”…..….

The worried voice of a mother grabbed my attention when I was playing in the garden. She was very concerned about a small cut on her son’s finger. When I looked towards the nearest bench I saw an old woman who was looking at all this and smiling. I thought that was rather rude of her. I couldn’t help myself and I went ahead and inquired why she was smiling. Her reply stunned me. 

She said “It would be hard for that mother to understand what must be the feelings of a mother like myself”. 

She told me with sudden change in her tone and a heavy voice that just the day before she had bid farewell to her son who was going to the border. Then, she just looked away saying nothing. I felt a little upset listening to this and I went home and discussed this with my dad.

He said “may be this is a good topic for a stoem….” The feelings of a mother bidding farewell to her son

Salty droplets floating at the rim of my eye

And with heavy breathing I give out a sigh,

Feelings, on the verge waiting to erupt,

 then I feel the urge to feel the touch.

Salty droplets floating on the rim of my eye,

Should I ask him to stay, or bid goodbye,

Salty droplets pleading to the cold windy breeze,

Make some miracle happen let time freeze.

I just want to spend some time with my dear one,

He may be a soldier but he’s also my son,

My son who slept in my arms till yesterday,

Those sleepless nights I have spent fearing this day.

The tiny one who needed me to tie his shoelace,

Is entering reality with enemies to face

Those games in the backyard with toy guns in palms,

has changed into warzone with live mines and bombs. 

I want him to not be brave and hide somewhere,

The thought of loosing him, is something I can’t bear.

He should just lie low and be always at the end,

There are many others of the country to defend.

But the patriot inside,

Will never agree,

with these feelings,

of the mother in me.

 Then I saw a tiny girl waving her hand,

Bidding farewell to her father marching with the band.

Someone’s son, brother, husband and father I can see,

Waving back at the salty droplets just like me.

With national anthem playing far away the countryside

Salty droplets started flowing, glowing with pride.

 -Pranjali Shah

Sometimes people tell me I am a weirdo…but I love myself the way I am. While having one of my usual strolls in the garden and daydreaming (which I do a lot), I suddenly stopped and took a bow and waved at my fans and audience. I walked proudly to the lift with my chin up, reached home, to find my mom with the “I have some questions” look. “Some friends called me asking if you had gone mad. They saw you acting weirdly and talking to yourself in the garden…” she said.
That’s when this stoem was written….

I don’t know why,
People think it’s mad,
But talking to myself,
makes me glad.

Because when I talk,
That’s when I see,
There is another Pranjali,
Who wants to talk to me.

She scolds me,she loves me,
And tells me where I am wrong.
When days are bad and I am down,
She hums my favourite song.

On the cross roads,
Mind is when confused,
She tells me what’s right,
And helps me to choose.

Choices I make ,
Sometimes right or wrong,
She just shrugs her head ,
Tells me to get along.

She makes me look in the mirror,
Every now and then,
And then smiles to tell me,
How cute I am.

On thundery nights,
When mind is full of fear,
She cuddles me tight,
And becomes my teddy bear.

She is always with me,
No matter what I do.
Talking to yourself is great,
I think you should too.

This is too all daydreamers who talk to themselves sometimes in the shower, or in the car, or in front of the stove while cooking. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU!!!