A LETTER TO MOTHER

Hye mom !

I m really glad to write this letter to you . And you must be glad too to know that I have learnt writing. My dad is very nice and he is teaching me English .

You must be guessing who I am ,even if you know me very well. Anyway I m not what you were calling me then . I have got so many nicknames from my dad…like princess of persia , miss astronaut, Dr sanjeevanee, cutie lily, Dimple Queen , snow white etc etc.

Do You Remember Dad Used To Call You ‘Miss Laal Tamator’ ????

Just like that I have got so many sobriquets. By the way you can call me Simran ,as both of you had named me long before I was born ,or even before you got married . I was your baby girl in your dreams .

Hehehe…. You must b wondering how did I know all this …..

Actually my dad is a great story teller . he makes a story for every occasion. He writes something whenever I ask him to. I love his poems . especially those tagged with your Nick name, ‪#‎MissLaalTamator‬. And he tells so many stories of yours . how you were in an Adventure to the heaven’s garden , how you were swimming in a milky fountain, how you were visiting sun temple and nandan kanan ,how you were dancing in the rain and … And… Hehehe…how you hugged him from behind while you were on a long drive…. Dad says it all.

He is very nice ,momma ! He makes oat for me in the morning . are you still afraid of eating oats ?

He makes coffee…. That works like a miracle. Whenever I drink it I see a dream . A snow white son Pari descends down the earth . she brings balloons and moons for me . then we fly high and high . we go to a garden where the roses would b twinkling . red,blue ,green,nine coloured roses. When I touch a butterfly they sing a song . Then I let them fly again. What a beautiful fountain we see. I learn swimming in deep water. Sometimes we fall down the slope of hills and fall into the water .

Finally the son Pari leaves me and walk away. But I don’t hate son Pari . I don’t dislike her either. Why should I ?? Didn’t you leave me with my dad ? Didn’t you leave me in your dreams ??? Son Pari visits me again when my dad gives another cup of coffee the next morning . But you are gone and gone . when will you come momma ???

My dad says that you were making pony tails and you wanted me to see in ponytails. Dad doesn’t know how to comb . He doesn’t know to make ponytails. He puts more powder in my cheeks. His beard is like spines when he rubs my cheek with his. I don’t like him . He knows nothing about girl.

Once I said that my favorite colour is pink. Now I have got around 100 dresses ,all pink. I don’t want to wear them now. Wish you were here ,I could wear your favorite colors too.

My dad is a mad man . once I had drawn some pictures on my notebook . they were all awesome. But my dad came from nowhere and painted them with my lipstick. It’s sticky now and I can’t touch it.

Come to me , momma ! I will draw beautiful pictures for you . You will be happy when I will draw monkeys and donkeys fighting with each other .Dad says you loved it .

My dad is sweet too. He brings red roses everyday for me . and a sunflower too. He brings roses because I look like you . I don’t know how sure he is . but I think my eyes are little brown like yours and my noses are also big like you. But hair is in a mess . I don’t know how to make it straight.

Dad sings a lot of songs . sometimes he sings in English. hehe…but forgets and switches to his favorite (and most boring ) song …haye haye to maliphula gazara and har ghadi badal rahi hai roop zindegi. It’s better to sleep than listening to him . momma ! You can sing Na……I want to listen Hanna Montana’s and gazals. Can you sing for me ??

Today is a cricket day. Not Saturday or Sunday. He has nicknames for days too. If there is cricket in TV he calls it so . by the way the match has been started and he has not come home. He is like that . doesn’t even inform me and walk away for long.

Momma ! Come to home . only you can tame that mad nomadic man . I m afraid if he doesn’t come today.

Momma !

How is your voice ?? Sweet or angry like dad ?? I know you are not talking to dad . Come to me momma ,I want to listen you.

How do you look ,momma ? I want to see you as my dad say you are also beautiful like me . we are in a competition. Hehehe…I know you don’t want to see my dad . so I have a plan . come to me when he will be sleeping . I want to hug you too. Come to me, momma !

And yes one more thing , it’s a top secret . Dreams have become boring. I want to live in the real world ,the world you are living in , the world you are singing and dancing. Take me out of here ,momma !

I m your dream-baby . make me come true….

Otherwise I will also start believing like dad that the most beautiful dreams in our lives never come true .That’s why those dreams stay beautiful… Just like you, me and dad’s love !!!

Waiting for you,Momma !

Promise me, you will come !!!!

Love,

Simran !

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Manoj Kishore Nayak

Hitherto known as the "Tissue Paper Poet" and credited many a times with initiating the same genre of poetry I, contemplated of writing this blog where I could inter-alia, endeavour to write my random thoughts and publish that of others. The blog will contain subjects of myriad hues ranging from poetry & travelogues to sundry incidents. Being a 'bookaholic' I would like to tell you about the books I read and the authors I meet across the corners which will quench your thirst for literary entertainment and will impart a certain cachet to your intellectuality. Read More...
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