Keep holding on

It was a beautiful ride . A stark contrast to the the mindless auto-buzz I dive into ,without any regret,sunrise after sunrise... sunset after sunset. But then, this was a beautiful ride in every sense. I went gentle on the accelerator to take in gulps of the country side. The paddy fields smiled adieu as I moved on. The roads dutifully curved to unfold never ending feasts to my city-sore eyes.

The ride must have stretched across 25 kms. I was going to meet some kids at a blind school that fringed the city..So that was on my mind too. I remember being vaguely apprehensive about how they would take to me and had to remind myself not to ask the wrong questions. I normally have a ball with kids and I assured myself that this was no different. Bikes screeched behind me. I retraced back into the blind school.It meant stepping into their world and looking out only to see they were very much a part of my world.

A deserted merry-go-round greeted me. The day that had begun cold and windy was warming up,proving my jacket a bad choice. I ventured inside anyway, eager and impatient.

There were around 10-15 kids . From the 3 year old, fully blind, homesick Priya who could go on non-stop without prompting about her family, village, water pots, food and what not with a shy smile to the 8 year old distant Shanti who barely uttered a word, gave me the rude shoulder trying to get rid of me,which made me sure she needed me the most to the 9 year old boy who danced to glory heedless of the ripe wounds on his limbs to the 5 year old cute,timid Rajesh who was silently enjoying with a smile,that made him seem wiser to the 5 year old uma with a huge appetite and glasses that just made you wonder how the tiny nose underneath survived to the 7 year old girl who braided my hair when I was done with hers to the boy who sang so well to the one that won the arm wrestling competition to the smart bunch that grasped operating my mobile phone .....I kept witnessing subtle words, actions and gestures...amongst themselves,every bit suggesting love.

They were a family by themselves, watching out for each other displaying a maturity that possibly we were denied that tender age, by the sense they lacked. I felt strangely alive in their world, basking in their love. Goodbye was tearful. I had to tear myself apart from the arms of a crying kid. Feeling gloomy myself, I was about to leave when after sharing 4 hours of cold silence with me in return to all my efforts at warming up to her, Shanti whispered " I enjoyed myself".

As I pressed on the accelerator, I saw them going back into the school,some happy with what time they had, some crying at what they missed , yet everyone holding hands with each other.

The mirage in nomanz land

somehow even as it has waned in frequency...it still is unforgotten ...prominent and loud ..blended into the folds.

A part of me in noman's land.

Merrily flipping roles between the beautiful rainbow and the teasing mirage,it hallucinates me with the prismatic effect of refracted nuances that erupt after having allowed the taunting mirage to just finally pass through it.

sometimes a heavily laden cloud fiercely unwilling to relieve itself of the beads, for each precious one stood a sole witness to the bliss that once had been,a story by itself...
Sometimes the sumptuous sea,with its seamless, unconditional, powerful ,presence making sure it cut across boundaries just to fill in gloriously...
Sometimes like the surging waves,shockingly emerging out of nowhere,at places where it has no right to be just to prove a point...
Sometimes like the lifelike smell of earth at the touch of monsoon,a reminder of sunshine that just had its turn to make way for the nostalgic chills, lovely rains and the tutoring gloom...
Sometimes like the immobile rocks, solid and domineering and suffocating until it slowly buckles under and withers away...
Sometimes like the rewarding bridge that connects to regions that I may never have dared or considered venturing into...to things I may never have been able to render or relate to..
Sometimes like the best lesson in tackling reality, for the good always undergoes memtamorphosis, never lasting the way we would like it to be, yet manifesting itself as a reminder of the truth, equipping me with an ability to nip at the bud d yearning that spurs at the constant buzz of all the lovely things revolving around me, positioned at a distance that doesn't rightfully belong to me...and spot new things that beckon and open up .

Somehow there is always a mirage that all of us want to touch and embrace..a mirage that speaks a lot about us.

Someday, I dream to be able to see your mirage.

the budding artist

A picture can say a thousand words..give u a zillion insights.
...now who can deny that.

I like:

: the "blub" that indicates "safe to remove hard ware" on windows xp...

: On my trips 2 get peaberry,the smell of coffee beans as its ground on the mean machine...

: target the confined air in bubble wraps,one bubble at a time,mission at a constant pace, setting them free...

: voices infected with those salubrious attacks of cold.Like phoebe from F.R.I.E.N.D.S ,i agree its sexy,inspite of eyes that roll at my idea...

: d way sugar candy sizzles n exhausts on my tongue...

: staring away into oblivion...

: a mental struggle that drains me...

: THAT happy smiley...

: waking up to petting ...

: my 5 year old shorts and 20 year old teddy ...

: Fresh lime ...

: gadgets n gizmos ...

: wet grass ...
damn....life is beautiful :)

Vishu at Gmomz!

Crisply starched and white mundu, a divine smile that reaches the twinkling eyes that sparkle below a dab of sandal paste...fingers that keep moving to silent mantras ... even as she is smiling upon ,conversing and listening to you,somewhere deep within her the chants kept running.

At 80+, my Muthashi(maternal grandmom) who lives alone at our family house, leads a very pious and disciplined life. She has been through a lot in her lifetime....testing shocking times, yet never have I seen her more than mildly disturbed,leave alone shattered. She carries with her this silent aura of peace which seems to give her a strength that I have admired so many a times.

Being a Keralite brought up in Tamil Nadu, after 24 years I celebrated my first Vishu at my native place. I had heard so much about the way the malayalam new year was celebrated traditionally and I couldn't wait to see it for myself.

It was beautiful. All my senses are a witness to it. At 3.30 in the dawn, my mom nudged me awake from my deep sleep.She was covering my eyes.I got up and groped around in the darkness holding on to my mom,then the walls and finally the rail of the tricky steep wooden planked strairs and found my way downstairs. I could hear my mom close behind me watchful of every step I took. I took the right turns and brought myself to the door of the Puja room.
The fragrance of the incense sticks and flowers grabbed me.I knew my Grandmom was inside the puja room. I realised someone was washing my feet so that I could enter.My muthashi took charge now....gently turning me to face God's photos and asking me to think of the Lord and finally the moment came ...and I was asked to open my eyes.

I was excited at what I would be seeing and also nervous about where I would end up looking.I wanted to gaze into Krishnan Imbatti's photo,the one that has been a favorite from my childhood vacations in Kerala.Even as my eyes were closed I could feel the warm glow of deepams lit and when I did open... it was a sight that I know will stay with me for good.I remember thinking that I should do this for my kids.There were the lovely "konna poo" without which Vishu kani simply wouldn't exist.Also placed on a bronze plate were some coconuts,white folded cloth and sandal. I prayed for a few seconds.I felt the chill of sandal on my forehead. The next in list was the "kai neetam" where elders in the family bless the younger ones and give them money...something that kids look forward to for their pocket money.I earned a precious twenty rupees that day.Ten from muthashi and 10 from mom.Falling at momz feet and her blessing me,we both found funny considering the fact that I normally play with her like I do with my peer.SoI kissed her feet and called her "Loosy bommae"..something I am sure my muthashi wouldn't have been shocked to hear!

Anyway,it was only around four in the morning.So without a second thought ,having this great feeling within, I crashed into wonderland wondering what the year was going to bring me.

Yesterday!

"Aw!!! Sorry..I dint mean to splash ink...d back of you shirt...I'm so sorry.."..I wave my fountain pen in despair...Sometimes I heard..."It is awrite" many a times..."my momz gna yell at me"...No matter what,I'd be jigging up and down with "april fooool!!"...

Well that was around 18 years ago ....a time when Children's day still belonged to me.

Now ...each year,they are all just days that passed by yesterday.

I muse

Am in a pensive mood....a couple of things that Ive somehow known throughout surfaced...yet it was a realisation I was having now...and many of my past experiences made sense.

It is so ironical how the vital art of "letting go" can be a lesson well- learnt,only when it is delivered by someone we really care for or something we hold dear.

And yet again,a relationship that glides along amidst crazy storms and blissful sunshine suddenly just fails simply because the winds just grew out of hand and created so much damage that eventually not only simmered down the dominant glow of sunshine but also made you wonder at the purpose of its mere existence.

Everything happens for a reason. There are lessons learnt.

Valuable painful ones.

The glow in my eyes

Every morning of each "working"day, I need to dive into a mad traffic that made sense to only those in it. It made me realise that when it comes to riding, I prefer a maze of unbelievable swerves n mindless people. Straight roads and peaceful traffic is not boring but then I would not riding there...It gets me into a hypnotic spell where I just follow instructions coming from that sense which we all talk about and get to wherever I want without knowing how it happened. Either ways ,I am safe!

There is a fly over that I need to take en route from office.The best part of the whole ride.Getting to the flyover is no cake walk. I need to get past a path that might actually pass for a road that stretches over a 100 feet. At the terminus the flyover branches out into a huge circular slope.At the point where the altitude is at its best, my favorite spot ,I look ahead and right in front of me...at par with me... is the teasing orangish peach sun bleeding love.Not glaring.Not powerful.Just beautiful.Just hypnotic.Feels like heaven amidst earth. The one little aspect that brings about all the difference to a mundane day.

The moment that comes just in time.

A number by firehouse...

I am at work. A3s and charcoal sticks dancing to my impulsive sketching...as I vaguely notice a pull towards distant notes and an earnest voice...firehouse on my earphones.words reached out to me between lines and as they became dominant,I drifted away lost in thought...Soon I was scribbling...

"...everything is beautiful as long as u r livin in ur perfect world....
.... Baby..a part of u is dying...
...seems no matter wht i do..i cnt get thru 2 u...
in ur perfect world...u dont feel no pain...
nothing can go wrong...nobody gets hurt...
as long as ur livin in ur perfect world...."

and what happens to u?

Simplicity is imperfect. Imperfection reveals beauty...the kind of beauty that is sewn into the folds of naked truth.The kind of beauty that doesn't fit into our perfect world...of pretences.

I see it around me........in me..

Manifested in silent,pathetic,alarming and earnest ways.

I remember a hearty laugh after an intentional crude remark/act. I hear "Ok....that was a joke...now plz back off and dont target me.I was only trying to be cool!"

I remember a dirty look,unaccountable rage and string of expletives. I hear " Can't you retort back and shell out the same crap that I just did so that I can somehow respect myself better?"

I remember a happy person who lives by handed down rules.I hear" Pleasures that don't last for good hardly matters in life...but I still wish..."

I know someone who is strong and confident.I wonder if I heard " I can't afford to getting used to luxuries that are just not there when you need them the most.So ruf it up!"

We have all been handed down a world...and we have built on our perfect worlds as the years ,incidents, emotions sped by...

....and we are forever trying to get in or get out of it.

Morning chimes

I squinted at my boring, unforgiving and austere alarm clock sitting right above my head.It was 7. The first touch of happiness. 30 mins more for my day to begin and I get back to the comfort of my blanket.

I hear the fone ring.A long ring and a short ring and then a stifled silence before someone could reach it. And that just was a humble eleven episode show....rudely interrupted by a vegetable seller who seemed to have just drafted a five year plan for his life ahead and had set about wasting no time, in full vigour... yelling out ,bent on making sure his voice reached the remotest corner of each house in the neighbourhood. Well, I must say he would go a long way.I could hear the whrrommm...of a lorry.It must have been reversing ...I made out from the zillion bilingual guiding instructions the driver got to swerve into a peaceful lane. Apparently my mom had got smarter meanwhile and had beat the fone to it. I could hear her complaining about how difficult it was to wake up her 24 year old daughter and how she needed all her energy saved for that one deed. I smiled under my blanket. This was getting interesting...I strained for other sounds/noises. I could hear a bird singing.I couldnt be really sure how distant it was.But it was very sweet. Some wave in the spectrum interfered with my mobile's blissful state because I could hear her buzz a complaint.I awaited a call or a sms.None came and so I remained under the blanket. Then finally it came..d beeep... beeep...beeep.. beep..BEEP..BEEP.BEEP.BEEP.BEEP...

Damn. 7.30. My mom is by my side trying her best threatening,petting and cajoling.

Why is the whole world against me...aww..I kick of my blanket.

Cindy

My aunt had got two new puppies.A labrador and a daschund...Lassie and Cindy respectively.

Now since childhood I have cherished dreams of having my own pup to play with , to cuddle to , to run along with during walks , to bathe and brush, to wake me up....and all the things I envied about the Enid-Blyton troop. But then there were two things I wasn't very fond of about the species ... the licks in general and the daschunds in particular.

I couldnt wait till i saw Lassie and oh my... wasn't I rewarded. I saw a red sash and a pair of dark eyes blink out from a tiny bundle of white fur . I think I lost myself for a moment when I held her. And then I heard my aunt call out for Cindy...

I idly looked around.I hadn't seen a daschund in real until then.But I knew alright that they were the elongated rats that I really didn't care for.

She was elongated . Beautifully . A rich golden brown, she glistened under the sun . But what hit me was the stuggled trot on fours towards me.She stood on her hind and had her two paws on my knees,tail upright waiting for her turn into my arms. It was a wonder that those tiny short paws did not yield under her excitement. She had a class of her own. The pride of a stunning woman. The eyes of a guilty child.

She investigated my cheek with her cold snout and she gave a tiny lick. I froze right there.I held her close. I was in love .

Evolve

I hate swallowing pills...leaving no exception.The ones that are bitter and the ones that stink.At par.

Injections...gosh..needles...piercing....oxygen please.

I hate set standards..as much as I believe in relativity. U could never say killing is bad.There is always more to it.

I know that tomorrow these could be the things that I believed in once . Change just happens.Evolve.

And that is just the way it is!

Do ur eyesss!!!!

Kohl-lined eyes..animated..I can never break my gaze away.I noticed it for the first time way back when I was still in elementary school. Ive come a long way since then but I still stare...even at the cost of risking rude looks,screeching brakes,stolen glimpses,beauty magazines,faked-up conversations and all that.

...and once I started wearing it on me, there was no looking back. I have held onto it for almost every day of my life.Experimenting with it was as exciting a challenge could possibly be.Yea..I found it powerful.With just the right amount and mix of kajal in its powder,paste and liquid form you could transform from the defined clarity of a classical dancer to a smoky-eyed coy lass to the evil supremacy of a sorceror to a spunky teenager to the untouched wonder of a baby to the dignified woman of the world to the scary devil to the repulsive person you never want to be to one who can carry off a different shaped and sized and coloured eye each day to a person who wants to hide sleep-puffed or tear-shed eyes to the lady who has just walked off after making a mark to ...what not.

I've been through it all and hereby I pronounce "KAJAL ROCKS!!! EXPLORE!!!"

Draw from within

My eyes are shut tight in an attempt to focus on what lay ahead of me. Standing to heels and taking in the fauna towering above me with my mind swaying to the gentle play of breeze against my moist tresses....focussing seemed an impossible feat.I felt rejuvenated and I simply didn't understand.

Being rooted to a place at that moment equalled to me the tyranny inflicted by Hitler.And to be arrested with fire around did not really help to dimnish the overpowering darkness.Fresh air and clean space free from the impact of matter in all the three states seemed close to impossible.Too much of anything good is always "imposed".Fragrance and attention was no exception here....

such treatment to the much sought supreme power?

I knew I was thinking crazy but I had this sudden urge to take HIM into myself and let him experience the world through me.After all the time had come to prove that all that had been bestowed had been put to good effect.I felt ready and eager to take him on the ride to witness..from within me.

Even as I unfolded my palms,I knew I'd given him his rightful throne.

Ironically ,a not particularly- religious person, I was standing in "God's own country".

Joy

And Joy is Everywhere;
It is in the Earth's green covering of grass;
In the blue serenity of the Sky;
In the reckless exuberance of Spring;
In the severe abstinence of gray Winter;
In the Living flesh that animates our bodily frame;
In the perfect poise of the Human figure, noble and upright;
In Living;
In the exercise of all our powers;
In the acquisition of Knowledge;
in fighting evils…
Joy is there Everywhere.

- Tagore

( a personal all time favorite)

Where the mind is without fear

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action--
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

- Rabindranath Tagore
"Githanjali"-1910

Play your guitar

“ There are certain things Money can’t buy.
But for everything else…..”

Quite straightforward. The best and lasting elements in life are priceless.

But Hey! Anyone to claim that “certain things” come without a price? Never. More often than not you pitch in things you know you are never going to see or experience again. There are trade-offs. Sometimes you realize what you are bargaining for. Many a times, you don’t.

( Enlightenment at the expense of a beautiful sense of wonder )
( Freedom by placing lives on the altar )
( Endurance with a traumatic trial )
( Friendship when you are willing to open up )
( Love after loving/being lovable )
( Trust only after a risk )
( Maturity and its goodbye innocence )

…..Just that , invariably at the end of it all.. it is worth the buy.

Won’t you be proud of bruised fingers if you could pull the guitar strings 'n' dance to the tune within and the enthusiasm around?

My 1s around 2

Stairs...my second-hand koala in one hand..I race down..screech-halt at the third step...a scrap of paper on the floor...a targeted leap and yo behold! I land on it...a little victory dance and i wait for applause.I am plainly told that I had just stamped God and to ask forgiveness I had to touch the paper and then my head. It has stuck onto me...my first lesson.

Festoons...Arrays of stocked shelves...people swarming...me walking around dazed...several things fascinated me in the supermarket...until i bumped into it.I took a few steps back and froze. A very strange creature... ghastly red all over and it moved..to my horror ,towards me. The next thing I remember is that I was in tears ,perched on my dad's shoulders. Heartless beast, it trailed me all the way out and didn't leave till it squeezed a toffee into my tight fist. A brief encounter with santa...my first terror.

Some movie...I learn that all people born on earth have to leave...My mind is a mess...strange thoughts confound me...my eyes are shut tight...I ask for two tea-spoons of the magic potion that allowed God to be eternal...One for dad and one for mom...I guess it was only minutes later that I realised I was no favorite exception...my first prayer.

My sister and I...tagging along with a neighbour-aunty to a nearby shop. Inspite of repeated instructions on good manners,I couldn't resist asking aunty to get me a chocolate... which my loving sister reported at home. I was condemned to an hour of silence in the darkest corner under the stairs. I fell asleep...my first punishment.

Golden flowing hair...bright blue eyes...a white dress matched with a pink sash and dainty pink stilettoes...the sweetest smile...my first barbie...my first love.

Lunch time...in school...the nap after lunch...i pretend to sleep knowing that my teacher would take a break for the loo...She does and I am up...my 'gang' behind me...beat the hell out of a poor thing there...unfortunately for me, my teacher had changed her mind about the loo...was it a glare or sheer shock on her face...not sure now...but my expression must have won the prize in the room if a competition had been held...my first crime.

Its strange how certain things leave an imprint in your mind.Many a times, the actual period or place or incident or the people involved or the words uttered escape the mind. Yet lingers vividly...the way it made you feel...

Kuku klok

Fancies are transient. Wonder invariably is adulterated by reason. Period always pitches in and ridicules the moment into history. Yet, nurtured from my oldest memory I have managed to shelter an affinity. An affinity to cuckoo clocks.

I have related to it at several sane and insane moments… A living reminder of the hidden spirit that sustains every inanimate element…/A spark that invigorates the mind by flashing at once all the people whom we took for granted forgetting what it was that kept us going…/ A teasing, vain charmer that makes a brief appearance and retreats leaving behind the chill after a warm shower…/ A screened peek into the secluded world of solitude at its blissful, seemingly peaceful, strangely chaotic and mystical best…/ A precious lesson on speaking up and acting appropriately at the right time…/

And also ingrained in me for a lifetime that mountains could flow with grace, that fire could freeze, that sunflowers would look up in the night , that stings could bring a smile …..that I could dream wild …That cuckoos could be in red.

I realized its sheer vitality and hold over me when finally I saw it for the first time in my real world …a few days ago in a new atmosphere amidst people I was meeting for the first time…I was feeling a little strange and then the clock chirped one.

I looked up in Utter dis-belief …

The owl and the pussy-cat

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?
"They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will.
"So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

-Edward Lear (1812–1888)