SOULspace

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, These words run through my mind like canned laughter. Intercepting my thoughts to laugh mockingly at the way I deliver my dialogs, at the manner by which I choose to act my part, at the importance I give to my fellow cast and crew (I mean family and friends!), and the kind of interaction I have with them. The roles we play: do we choose them or do they choose us? I found Shakespeare… to ponder over the many roles that we as people play at many different times in our lives. We even find ourselves playing multiple parts at the same time. (It reminds me of a play I once saw, called My Dear Exorcist, which has the leading characters changing their dresses every 2 minutes, some amazing role play!! Real life it seems only mimics that!) How apt to call this world a stage. Many of us like to take the center stage, others prefer being a par...

Here is one story that I am doing out of compulsion! A compulsion to be fair and open. A compulsion which drives me to see things as it is! A compulsion to tell things as it is. So, that's enough with the prelude, let me get to the point. I am compelled to write about the poor expectant father syndrome(PEF)! In all fairness, they are the poor neglected lot. We fuss over the mother-to-be. We inquire about her health. Is she eating well, is she resting, walking, reading good books, thinking good thoughts?!! Morning sickness, is it bad? Does it happen in the evening? Oh, yes that can happen too... Baby moving, funny feeling isn't it? Is she kicking badly? Does it hurt? You poor thing! BUT what about that guy who occupies the same space as that pampered soul? (Ok Ok, I can see some women, up in arms. "He" did not pamper me could be their contention. Mmm... possible! But I talk about the general population. The average expectant mother is pampered by her better half ...

When no more than a cell, She protected us and nurtured us, Held us in her womb. Coursing her blood and breathe within us, Waiting for that day, for the unseen to be seen! Every birth is a story To be recounted many years hence, To willing or unwilling ears By her, as she lives through An experience very few can forget. She is there when we smile For the first time, She is there when we cry for the hundredth time! She is there to see our rage, Our anger and our bitter acrimony. She is there when we are failing, To see reason and the right way. She is there when we are confused, And unable to comprehend. She is there to infuse courage At moments when we are unable. She is there to see us take pride, In deeds and acts that make us. She is there to see us take, Our first tentative steps into adulthood. She is there to coax and cajole us, She is there to pacify and console us, She is there to smile and humor us, She is there to beat and scold us!! We take her for granted Until that day w...