A rhyme learnt in kindergarten has taken me so long to understand:
"popat bhookhyo nathi, popat tarsyo nathi
popat amba ni daal; popat sarovar ni paal,
popat majhaa karey.."
A young vagabond parrot, who’s run away from home, trills about the pleasures of the wide world, showing off he is without a care. But ouch, he’s hurting.
Head down, getting on with life
Sticking to a routine helps
Writing helps, the rote of weekly subs and crits at IWW.
But writing poetry, that too a poyemn a day? phew! I’m surprised too.
Walking helps, round and round the park we go.
So much paperwork!
Working longer hours.
Getting home after 9 has logic, not much of the day is left then.
Cooking is tough-- the fridge overflows with leftovers.
Anyway, head down and quick march, “popat majhaa karey”