The Creatively Frustrated

Global warming seemed like an issue Before she came And absorbed those ultra violet rays With pampers, new and improved Now available at cheaper rates Israels expansionist plans Were worth a discussion but now a days, It's mother care's sale That steals her attention Litters of urine Passed out by her baby Measure more Than the magnitude of water problems Our world is facing "to be or not to be" Is no Shakespearean dilemma my friend It's now a decision Of being or not being Exclusively breast fed Colors of stool Intrigue her more Than change of seasons Or shades of red She is a mother, alright With responsibilities towards her child But is motherhood A mere reduction of her existence To puke, poop and piss?

It was raining hard. So hard that the visibility had lessened to 50% normal. Our car zoomed past puddles, making waves and spraying water on already drenched people on foot and into rolled down car windows. Sorry, we muttered. With my camera ready I was looking forward to shooting some heart wrenching scenes of Thatta camp cities on the first day of Eid. ‘Damn this rain! It will ruin everything.’ Two hours down the road we reached HANDS Thatta office. Inside the meeting room we were briefed about the situation there, how the organization was managing the catastrophe, the donations, the rations given, the victims; almost everything was discussed. I was impatient. I wanted to shoot. The teams had been working tirelessly they said and at times for 24 hours at a stretch. There were 300 camp cities across Sindh, they added, giving shelter, food and health care to 65000 people. I was awed,  my impatience gone. What have I been doing? The rain had turned the earth into jello. Slip...