January 1, 2017

Migration : Dont panic!

Friends, we encourage you to start contributing to our TISA website ( http://stammer.in/ ) by sending your announcements, stories, poems, case studies, write ups and pictures etc. to info@stammerindia.org or harishusgaonker@gmail.com .

November 6, 2016


Have you seen the woman, opening up a sweater?
And knitting it again into something else?

That is my Mother.
She has unravelled old sweaters of my desires..
And has made me a prayer mat!

When my life comes apart, when familiar desires seem insipid..
Mother promise, you will come - and hand me my prayer mat!

Ages will pass
Cosmos will wobble on..
But when I open my eyes
Promise me, You will still be there Mother,
Looking at me, next to my prayer mat!

November 5, 2016


Mother and the baby played in a park. The baby ran all over- chasing the butterflies..
It stumbled all over the bushes, looked at trees as if they were people, enchanted and frozen ..

Then it was time to go home. Mother held baby's hand, looked up and down the street, and crossed.
The baby looked straight ahead. In fascination.

This is how, I hope to cross the street, when it is my time..


The baby played in the dirt - with great abandon.Then it was time for a bath.
Mother cajoled the baby into taking his upper off. But he wouldn't part with his nickers.

Mother pulled him into the tub. Some splashes and baby gave up all shame.
They splashed water over each other.. and the laughter was heard far off in the street.

That is how I will stand naked, bereft of shame, when it is my time..


It was a starlit night. Mother and baby sat at the doorsill.
She pointed out all the funny shapes moving and merging in the sky.

The baby was fascinated with fireflies and wanted to chase them.
But the baby was scared of the dark.

Finally mother took up the baby in her lap and stepped out in the lawn.
Fearless, the baby grabbed at fireflies now.

I too will step out in the night, when it is my time,
In full assurance that I am never alone.