Bashki with her grand mom

Bashki is 3 feet tall
Which is a whole decimal more than her years
She is a tall baby
If her cousin Samhita were to hear this, she would be sure to correct me
She’s a toddler, she would inform me
In my time all this was the same
But Samhita is seven and has spent the first five years of her life in the USA where these things are quite important

Bashki this toddler/baby, like I said is very tall
When we talk of how lovely she is people expect to see one of those plump Johnsons’ babies.
No definitely not.
I’d be loath to slot her but if anything Bashki’s a Hutch baby.
She’s lean, muscly, and graceful.
She looks like she would be a great athlete… if she could muster the aggression
But Bashki’s too polite for aggression, she would probably think it awful manners
And she’s kind… Bashki is
Doesn’t like to see people unhappy
Have you known a baby who would stroke your hair?
She’s rather smart, knows who butters her dosas and when
What’s a baby without some survival instinct?
I could also tell you that she’s terribly sharp, has a better eye and ear for detail than most adults I know, multitasks amazingly, and is most aware of all that goes,
and when she is quiet and pensive I think she is having knotty philosophical discussions with herself, and I never know if I want to smooth that wee furrow on her brow or photograph it,
but you’ll probably think I’m silly
So I’ll tell you instead of how proud she is, and that she rarely asks for anything she might be refused and her expression of anger is so controlled, so adult that it sometimes worries us.
But Bashki’s quite little actually
She was walking away with her grandmother just now and she had to tip-toe to hold her hand
She was going quietly, more docile that usual
And I thought there was something desolate about her bare summery back,
I watched them turn the corner,
It was lovely
I hope she decides to stop on her way back.

nah tha kuchh to khuda tha kuchh nah hota to khuda hota
duboya mujh ko hone ne nah hota maiñ to kya hota
Ghalib

Same difference

Structured notions of right and wrong
These fractured notions they’ve been here long
Certain ideas of right and left
Certain proof of minds too deft
Fabulous systems to write and read
But do we indeed address the need?
We know a lot ‘bout rite and ritual
To please the many, but what of the one-the actual?
But then of course what right have I
To question the Ever-the flash of an eye

Bring me no thoughts
Next breathe mine
Sorry martyred moths
To the flame withine
I want no seers sayings
No more fast philosophy
Considered results of labourous weighings
Choicest theories till they atrophy
What use to me the elephants tail or eyelash
I search blind-folded with senseless fingers
I need my eye to see the flash
Silences so I can hear the singers
So be still mind
Think no more
Clear truth of murky sense so I find
The whys and whyfores in my core

Have you noticed the remarkably vigorous nodding of the disinterested listener? To be distinguished from the deadly earnest by the glazed eyes and inappropriate nodding rhythm.