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Thursday, April 26, 2018

A Winter Morning


I wake up in a slow daze
Expecting the morning to be bright
But it is grey, drab and uninviting
And it feels just not right

My bones groan in protest
My body registers pains and aches
My mind says "get up and get ready"
Yet heart whispers "let sleep overtake"

So I snuggle back in my blanket
Wondering why the day is so cold
Then I shrug and tell myself, maybe
The Sun too like me, is getting old

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Monday, April 23, 2018

The Housewife


Once there was a woman who hardly existed. Her presence was so ubiquitous that people always took her for granted. She fought to give herself some visibility but slowly and gradually she became invisible. Her personality slipping slowly into obscurity.

She was the woman who gave love, and cared for all unconditionally and yet she was never the center of focus. It was as if she was meant for the sidelines. The person your peripheral vision could see but you never really noticed because people prefer to stay focused on the center.

Her efforts more often than not went unrecognized and yet she chose to put others physical and emotional needs before her own while remaining invisible all the time.

She was a housewife.

Sunday, April 22, 2018

Ruins of Dreams



In a life full of demolished dreams
I find myself
Among the ruins

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Saturday, April 21, 2018

The Perfectly Imperfect Me



I log onto my Face book page and see a friend’s photographs that she has posted while on vacation to some place that looks great. My eyes stray to the comments section below.

“Such a beautiful couple…made for each other !” writes someone.
 “Aww..adorable children..such a perfect family !” writes another.
"Gosh, you guys have such a perfect life !" comments another.

I sit here and wonder..is there really such a thing as a perfect person or family ?

No, let me clear this, I do not feel any kind of jealousy or inferiority towards that friend, but I would never want to be called perfect. To label me as perfect would be to burden me with expectations that I would have to live up to. It would be saying that I am flawless and without any fault whatsoever. I have no wish to be put on a pedestal.

I refuse to believe that any person can be perfect. Everyone has some flaw or another. I am certainly not perfect nor do I aspire to be that. I have my flaws and my scars. I have my share of skeletons from the past and issues in the present, and who knows what the future holds in store for me ?

I have come across people who will go to any lengths to show their beautifully decorated perfect homes. They will post pictures of their vacations at exotic destinations. Those awesomely edited perfect poses. An image of an impeccable, perfect family and life. And yet, I am well aware of the insecurities, the internal struggles, and the pressure of living up to social expectations that they hide behind their “perfectness”.

I am not a perfect woman. I do not have a perfect life, family, home or career.

Instead of a pristine wonderfully decorated house, I would rather have a home that makes me feel comfortable, where I can put up my feet and curl on the sofa with my favorite book in hand. A house with an orderly chaos. A family that would laugh and yet argue and cry together. A life that would be blissful, joyous, and yet beautifully messy.

I do love looking good, what woman doesn’t ? but I would want to look good for myself, wear the clothes that I feel compliment my personality rather than what the latest fashion or trend is.

I would prefer to share my insecurities and vulnerabilities rather than keep them all buried and hidden inside to keep up with that perfectly happy look. I am happy with my flaws, my scars, my differences and my imperfections because they make me who I am, and make me unique in my own way.

I am not perfect but I am perfectly imperfect and I would not want to be any other way. This is the me I love and this is the me I would want the world to see.