Mother, you are me
Me, you
But as Gibran said about children
I came through you, not from you
And so now I wonder
Where do I originate?
I used to think,
I had a start
My story began with the stories you told me
Of the day I was born
And of the days later
I thought I had a start
Somewhere from where my memories began to stay-
Stay, etch and institutionalise.
I thought.
I competed against 200 million other possibilities
And won existence
I was chosen in you.
Did you choose me?
Did I chose you?
Are there choices, Mother?
I think there are.
Somewhere along the stretch of time and human existence
A domino was chosen to be pushed
Which pushed other dominoes
And hence we met, in your womb.
Like a speeded Natgeo video
Of a sprout growing from soil
I grew and sprouted
And grew
And kept growing.
Now I am, even larger than you.
And as days go,
I feel you grow smaller.
Like the days you strapped my sling,
I wondered with wonderment,
How you could be so much smaller than me!
Surely, Mother
You are growing smaller.
But I also wonder
If were were to count the age of the lines that existed
The lines of time and existence
The line that I am
The line that you are
Who is older, Mother?
Me or you?
Who pushed the domino?
Do I originate?
Or are we two infinities that have crossed on this graph?
It doesn't matter.
What matters is the intersection continues
The length of lines continue to flow
As they keep intersecting.
As time will have it,
Like the thread roll of a kite,
The finiteness of the intersection on this graph will stop.
You will go your way,
I, mine.
You will keep moving
And I will too.
We may meet again,
Or not.
We may remember some things
Like the dreams I had when I was sleeping in you,
They may recur when you may be born in me, may be in another graph.
May be.
But nothing will be gone.
Nothing ever goes.
It only transforms.
We have told all our tales to the universe
And stored in it every thought, every cell we have shed.
When people will read from the tree of time,
They will read us.
We will occur as thoughts
We will be born again.
But for now,
We are snug in this intersection
We are good
Like a cowboy movie
Let's keep walking to the sunset
(Our hands are already held)
And when the sun plops from the horizon,
Other movies will begin,
Other journeys.
You remember that family photo
Taken in Foto Techniks, when I was four?
I was grumpy with tears
Because you had chosen to wear my gold chain.
Today, again, you have chosen to wear my gold chain,
Twenty-four years later
And with it you shall be landing 2400 kilometres away.
Stay safe in Thailand, Mother.
Me, you
But as Gibran said about children
I came through you, not from you
And so now I wonder
Where do I originate?
I used to think,
I had a start
My story began with the stories you told me
Of the day I was born
And of the days later
I thought I had a start
Somewhere from where my memories began to stay-
Stay, etch and institutionalise.
I thought.
I competed against 200 million other possibilities
And won existence
I was chosen in you.
Did you choose me?
Did I chose you?
Are there choices, Mother?
I think there are.
Somewhere along the stretch of time and human existence
A domino was chosen to be pushed
Which pushed other dominoes
And hence we met, in your womb.
Like a speeded Natgeo video
Of a sprout growing from soil
I grew and sprouted
And grew
And kept growing.
Now I am, even larger than you.
And as days go,
I feel you grow smaller.
Like the days you strapped my sling,
I wondered with wonderment,
How you could be so much smaller than me!
Surely, Mother
You are growing smaller.
But I also wonder
If were were to count the age of the lines that existed
The lines of time and existence
The line that I am
The line that you are
Who is older, Mother?
Me or you?
Who pushed the domino?
Do I originate?
Or are we two infinities that have crossed on this graph?
It doesn't matter.
What matters is the intersection continues
The length of lines continue to flow
As they keep intersecting.
As time will have it,
Like the thread roll of a kite,
The finiteness of the intersection on this graph will stop.
You will go your way,
I, mine.
You will keep moving
And I will too.
We may meet again,
Or not.
We may remember some things
Like the dreams I had when I was sleeping in you,
They may recur when you may be born in me, may be in another graph.
May be.
But nothing will be gone.
Nothing ever goes.
It only transforms.
We have told all our tales to the universe
And stored in it every thought, every cell we have shed.
When people will read from the tree of time,
They will read us.
We will occur as thoughts
We will be born again.
But for now,
We are snug in this intersection
We are good
Like a cowboy movie
Let's keep walking to the sunset
(Our hands are already held)
And when the sun plops from the horizon,
Other movies will begin,
Other journeys.
You remember that family photo
Taken in Foto Techniks, when I was four?
I was grumpy with tears
Because you had chosen to wear my gold chain.
Today, again, you have chosen to wear my gold chain,
Twenty-four years later
And with it you shall be landing 2400 kilometres away.
Stay safe in Thailand, Mother.
