An Unsung Strain

I saw a bird dart past

Past her roosting time

Steered by the wind she floundered

Teary-eyed she cruised along the night sky

She flapped her wings and shrieked and heaved

Is it a lost jewel she is crying over?

Or a deceitful lover?

Will she perch before the rain?

For the weather was far from jolly

The horizon bore a daunting silhouette

Unceasing lightning swallowed the black

Lo and behold! The heavens opened

And down gushed a furious flood

Wretched by a canker and the soul of an owl

I flung open the creaky timber window

In dashed a flurry, splashing me

As though to ameliorate

For the long mucky day was far from bearable

The portico was a mossy pool now

I put my left foot forward

I had enough of being asked to put my right foot forward!

A chill ran through my toe and upward, popping my eyes

Caressing me, touching me without touching

Like my man did, every time I refused him a game of love

His whispers resonated in my ears

My breasts swelled, my lips apart and breaths grew heavier

For I was overcome by a desire far from sufferable

The doorbell rang stirring me up,

He is here, my man! I was certain

I trotted to the door longing for the warmth of his mouth

And the firmness of his hands

Unbolting three bothersome locks 

I threw opened the hindering wood

There stood a man in uniform

But he was not mine to embrace

For he looked sorry far from a cheerful meeting

Holding his gaze down, he gave me the news

My limbs froze and I was buckled down

Rain lashed about the doors, windows and roof

Like iron chains beating down dilapidated buildings

My throat was parched, my breath grew faint

Beads of sweat, lined my brows

My gullet fought to wash down a lump of air

A sharp shooting pain criss-crossed my heart

For my song had died far from being hummed

Gauge My Addiction

Are addictions to be treated or to be revelled in

I ought to know, for I have an addiction

Perhaps more than one

For now, I indulge with guilt

But do tell me if I am culpable

What am I addicted to? Must you ask

Oh! It is not a thing I am addicted to

It is, but a being I have grown fond of

Or maybe it is a thing like you surmised

But it is neither opium nor spirits

Who are you addicted to? Would you then ask

Oh! It is not any soul I am attached to

It is but a tool I talk into modulating my pitch

Or maybe it is a being like you suspected

But he is neither my cherished divinity nor my man

Perhaps I am dodging your questions

For you are yet to reveal to me 

If addictions are to be treated or to be reveled in

Rollicking in my addictions I smile I chuckle I laugh

Ashore my addictions I am typical and a downer

And I dawdle around seeking to bask in my addictions

But before I am overcome by guilt or rushed to a rehab by the mortals

Show me the door I should knock at if I am not chargeable or unholy...

The door is only half shut

Where have you both gone
One after the other
Do we shut the door or wait
It's been a while now

It's been a while now
We still haven't heard from you
The mail box is empty
Your images are fading from our memory

Your images are fading from our memory
Your families are no more into us
They don't ring us or check on us like before
We miss you now like never before

We miss you now like never before
We pulled out the dusty photo-albums to relive moments with you
How do we get in touch
To what address do we post a letter

To what address do we post a letter
The mailman tells us no letter will get to you
We keep awake day and night, not to miss the doorbell
The telephone has gone quiet too

The telephone has gone quiet too
We don't take it off the hook for you to ring us
Why don't you call or write to us
Don't you care no more

Don't you care no more
Don't our tears and pouts melt your hearts no more
Don't you worry about us being alone no more
Are you no more curious about the new pals we make

Are you no more curious about the new pals we make
Some do hurt us you know
But then you hadn't warned us
Why didn't you tell us when you left

Why didn't you tell us when you left
Like we always did when out to play and meet friends and even work
That was your rule, not ours
You have violated every rule you had set

You have violated every rule you had set
We no more know what you want
And we hence decided to be cross with you and the world
We still are cross but no more angry

The door is only half shut...

Every time you say fairies don't exist you kill YOURS!!!

She is an angel in disguise or may be not; she is cuter and smaller than an angel and of course a lot more fun; probably she is a fairy. She has her wand hidden away somewhere in her designer handbag. But she swishes it ever so often that my wishes have grown wings now.

Unlike Tinkerbell she takes no credit for her magical spells. Fairy dust is all over me but she still thinks I am unaware she is the one. She has a hand full of chores, she juggles them with great ease and thinks it's no big deal.

I met her then when the bubble I lived in burst and I fell with a thud and broke my limbs. It was slippery and dark where I landed. I lost my grip, I felt flighty and cluttered as I went sliding into some bottomless depth. "That's it, it's all over" I thought, till I felt light and weightless like a feather.

It was her! She was gentle, her smile was cherubic. She harboured me. I was unsure as I leaned on, if I weighed more than she could bear. But she couldn't be bothered if it was so. She wanted to do more. More with no pretences.

Outside my room I hear her wings flutter to take off to Neverland probably... to bring back more fairy dust or to swish her wand to make wishes come alive. She can hide as much as she likes from me but I know for a fact she is "Neenabell" the fairy.

'We' belong to the stars in the sky

Our successes never celebrated by them
Our slips under their lens
I wanted to belong there
He wanted away from them

War of words spiralled out
Neither was convinced by the other
He stuck to his say
And I to mine

He disapproved my efforts to belong
They disapproved his ways of life
I disapproved their judgements of him
Saga of our futile attempts of 'to belong or not to belong'

We took one another to task
We can't stand eye to eye
Why can't you
Why should I

We walked away to be at peace, far away to the horizon
To gaze at our two stars in the distant sky
But his hand was in mine now, my head on his shoulder
When had we walked away from each other? Where did we come together?

I didn't want to belong anymore
Their mind games failed to get me now
Our mind games began to get them now!!
Phew! or what? I chuckle these days.

In a new light

New is good? Not always I am sure, but now, here, it feels good. I am beginning to like it. It was weird to start with... new job, new home, new number and perhaps a new me.

Of course, things have changed for me after recovering from an untimely chicken pox, yes untimely because I wasn't looking for an excuse to rest, relax or be nursed ;P

Neither was I on the payroll of a busy editorial team nor was I a student tired of taking exams or other academic chores, wanting to fall ill!
A: "Chicken pox is life changing... things are going to change for you."

B:"My life was turned around after I recovered from chicken pox. It is true... don't laugh now..."

C:"Don't be annoyed... you just wait and watch your life is going to change!"

"What is the big deal, what's the life changing factor?" I don't wonder so anymore... Yes, change is obvious to the extent that I am not scared of dogs anymore! I know, but that's true. I am officially now not scared of dogs!

But that is not enough, I need to see more, more changes. A little more from life. And so it is said: SEEING IS BELIEVING! :) So make me believe!

I Mark time

The winters are painful in your absence
You are not around, you are not mine anymore
The pranks we pulled, the secrets we shared
All seem to have vanished

Those games we played and the bruises you gave
Have been closer to me than memories of greater life events
I look at them with love of a glorious childhood we had together
Those fights weren’t fights those hate spats weren’t hatred
But love in retrospect

And today the bruises you have given me
Though not carnal are deeper than all scars I bear
But they hurt me, they sting me
Your silence and your untraceable thoughts kill me
I am scared to love else and I may soon forget to trust

There was bearing in every look of yours, I felt safe then but vulnerable today
Today I tremble at a future staring at me
I hide behind every bend but I am spotted
Our separateness speak volumes of your absence
I cry and cry and cry and with a misty pair of eyes look for you

I grope for your hands I was entrusted into
I don’t feel them, I can’t reach them and I fall
In hope you’ll be back to help me up
And I touch the scar under my chin from that old fight of ours
And console a cheerless self that you’ll be back
Before the winter passes...

For Sari

Sari is like second skin to me, though I had never worn it to work before. Have worn it in and around home. Wear it not just to the temples, weddings or family affairs but to the market, movies, dinners, walks... everywhere... again, except office... but why not? why hadn't I draped sari to work? It didn't occur to me until recently I went into work in a sari.

Recalling my seniors wearing Sari for the first time to work, it had been normal... nobody had raised an eyebrow or asked why? But my turn or one from my age group and questions were several... "going on a date?" "anniversary" "engaged?" "birthday?"... or even "why are you dressed like this?"... "Get up get up... A&B told me you are in a sari... please let me see... get up no? get up!" And, also since I work for television I had a few ask me, Was I going on the air...

I had worn a simple jute sari to work, not even those Chiffon Yash Chopra saris that could qualify for a date or an anniversary. Now this is an attire I am so fond of and is in love with that has now raised too many questions. Is it worth wearing it to work? Or should I wear it often enough that it wouldn't seem unusual anymore? Or is sari not meant for the working class of my age group unless may be I am working with an Airline or a Hotel, largely Hospitality business? Why is my most loved outfit, sari going through this crisis? Is it just a phase? Can I save it? Not that you don't see people in one... Of course you do but an older age group...

For the time being I had let it be... and went about with my work and didn't bother to be too conscious... but then I must admit I had a good day though I was stopped over and over again by every single colleague to ask: "Why sari...?" My day was good particularly because I didn't have anyone loathe it, in fact, all were in appreciation and awe of it and more so when they discovered it wasn't a date, birthday, engagement or the likes they had suspected.

But Sari is my most favourite and undoubtedly the most comfortable clothing in my wardrobe for any occasion of course except for your sporty outing and biking... I guess that is alright to all the advantage it has.

Like I had been to a Nationalised Bank a week ago to open a savings account, my request was turned down and that I cannot open one because of blah blah blah reasons. I walked in three days later to the same bank and I was treated with great regard and offered a seat and water. Not only did I get an account opened, I also had them serve me with great respect and the Manager even offered me his personal number to be contacted any time I had any problems with the Bank. And it obviously was me both times to the same bank... Just that I was in a shirt and a pair of jeans the first time and a  cotton sari the second time... It was a sari that had me treated like a client they wanted to please...

So definitely, thanks to saris. And I guess it is alright to give my saris a break when I am out biking or rock climbing...

But for my age group sari is an unfamiliar, 5 and a half meter long piece of fabric that is not as comfortable as the trousers and T or salwar-kurtis are. Well! I think it is just a matter of getting used to and often impossible to get used to once you are used to a pair of trousers and comfy shirts/blouses...

Washed away!

Drizzled? Yes it did. But I wanted more, more than just the luring few drops, which stroke my body. Like a teaser the sky would blush and then roar in a dark tinge as though to chuck it down and I would await a downpour to get drenched in, to walk endlessly into nowhere, into nothing. But I would be left taunted and mocked with no sign of anything, not even the promised drizzle!

No meteorologist could ever tell or even try to forecast rain, for it (the rain) never obeyed. At its will, it had gotten away. To reign or not to reign?… was the question. My meteorologist friend failed every time he attempted the forecast- “Hey weather man it is OK… these days with climate change and environmental issues you couldn’t have done any better. Your knowledge is inadequate and the Meteorology course might need cramming in of more papers in the syllabus to deal with the recent and expedited environmental issues.” I joked, oops! That spun his anger… He was disgusted and yes not amused at all. It was his profession at stake, his skill in question. I could only grin…

I can recall the best weather person ever- my good old nan. She knew exactly when it would rain, if it did by when it would stop and how long would it go on for…the harvest that season, the yielding and what not? But now even the ones holding a PhD in the tongue spraining subject (Meteorology) can hardly tell what’s next.

But little had the rain Gods known of what I had believed in, how I consoled myself that the nature was all mine... believe it rains when i am sad and teary-eyed... Pardon the blogger here –enraptured in a world she has woven to let herself lose. So, let the nature be hers, the enticement of the world be hers, the brilliance of the gems be hers, the luminescence of the night be hers… let her rule this world! Don’t hinder or you’ll be doomed. Let her be rapt, don’t warn her or wake her to the world you live in. Let her be.

I pinched myself to see if I was fine, how come I am glum and the nature is not? It (the nature) always did worry about me if none at all did. So now when I am upset and sad and crying why isn’t it raining? And when I am happy and elated it isn’t responding again… Oh! Can it be true? Maybe, it is under the spell of the other. Oh yes it is! Now it all makes sense.

The spell better be reversed and I must get all of the blissful showers to myself and please start helping, contributing, power saving, recycling- the only way to brew the potion to cast the spell away. I need my world saved and the love and care and protection that was unconditional and perpetual.

Oh! Just let it free uh... Really?

An acquaintance of mine keeps sending me forwards on LOVE, PYAAR, ISHQ, blah blah blah.....

Not that I condemn this but here you go look at this: I just recieved it:

I once had a friend who grew to be very close to me.Once when we were sitting at the edge of a swimming pool; she filled the palm of her hand with some water and held it before me, and said this:

"You see this water carefully contained in my hand? It symbolizes Love."

This was how I saw it: As long as you keep your hand caringly open and allow it to remain there, it will always be there.

However, if you attempt to close your fingers round it and try to posses it, it will spill through the first crack it finds. This is the greatest mistake that people do when they meet love... they try to posses it, they demand, they expect... and just like the water spilling out of your hand, love will retrieve from you. For love is meant to be free, you cannot change its nature. If there are people you love, allow them to be free beings.

# Give and don't expect.

# Advise, but don't order.

# Ask, but never demand.

It might sound simple, but it is a lesson that may take a lifetime to truly practice. It is the secret to true love. To truly practice it, you must sincerely feel no expectations from those who you love, and yet an unconditional caring."Passing thought... Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take; but by the moments that take our breath away...

WOW!!! that was Swami Vivekananda, one of the forwarded mails... Beautiful to know but painful to realize. Are we all so selfless to love anyone so much that we find beauty in actions of love and walk over our ego?

You know this right...? Gone are the days when love was spiritual, magical, magnanimous, ungrudging-admiration, idolizing, devotion...!!! Days of the sort even existed? Whoever says they did... oh well lovely legendary tales... Are they? Oh did I sound craggy... Ooops... well that wasn't my intention at all.

But sure obviosuly one is always happy to read and feel happy about the recorded scriptures on LOVE or rather LUUUHV..... that they can go to any extent with it but when it comes to functioning the way... snap and they are gone, so would I be.... OK by now, I am in stitches...

But well even I enjoyed reading this. Laxmi yes... what a hypocrite!!! Sorry I cannot lobour for LOVE or whatever it is called.

Contemplating

Trip back from Bangkok via Srilanka- transit... stay over in Colombo's Browns Beach Hotel... least asked for!!! Getting back seemed far-flung. But did I actually want to be back? May be I did... exhausted, anxious, jittery... yet longing to get back to see your loved ones smile. But of course not all are your loved ones... and there are those who make you frown, yeeeuuw just their presence... Can one possibly escape anything? so just GRIN AND BEAR!

How can a day be longer than 24 hours? Trust me it was... No seriously... it was!!! The thought of staying over was baneful and for all the sublime days I spent in Thailand, this stop over... definitely wasn't needed at all.

But Irony!!! Browns Beach Hotel was quite a neat place, yes NEAT as my dear friend would put it... and I had forgotten it was a transit and was lost or may be even rapt to even know I was heading home... home did I say? HOUSE rather.

I once told Nic: "home for me isn't any place in particular... but it is when I am with the right kind of people." I was applauded for it. I was quite proud of what I had said. But was it to the right kind of people I was coming back to? I could nod when I thought of some and then quell at the thought of many... not just people but troubles and situations...

Moving on... I had a wonderful evening in Colombo and couldn't remember when I fell off to sleep... wake up call from the reception and there I was getting ready to leave...

A pleasant trip back with a warm and benevolent couple flying down with me to Bangalore. They looked really happy together... even in their 60s or 70s!!! The man spoke to me with such warmth and love, something so mesmerizing about him and every time he mentioned something to me... he would look to his right where his wife was sat as if to get a confirmation nod from her of the facts he was delivering... and that to me was a reassuring fact about relationships. Whoever did that now???

She had a gentle smile and did I become their someone for a minute... or throughout the trip without them realizing and was it just me secretly? A sense of belonging. It felt great... reminded me of times and occasions I had lived and wished it would manifest again. How daft!!! Surprisingly, it was difficult to say bye to the two... like they had become someone close in just an hour and 10 minutes. I sped up ahead of them... immigration, baggage claim and off I was gone. Prayed hard and wished to see them again... why? Strange feeling... it lasts though.

Our state of normalcy is a term that does not occur. At times I feel I question if I am living at the mercy of my parents’ early departure from my life? It is said, “whatever happens or whatever has happened is for the good.” So is this what it is? Am I meant to enjoy their absence in my life and dwell on sympathies? Do I do that? I think I do... shamelessly fall prey to pseudo love and affection. I gaze at intimacy... a child in her mother's arms, little girls clinging on to their father's fingers, walking the streets... why does it hurt? Why don't I be happy about it?

Wander away mind and rest placidly. You are stronger than I am... so let us take this joyous ride together... but don't lose me... or else I will sob.

QuIXotIsM

Dwelt in a conch
By the shingle of the beach
Snoozing day and night
No wayfarer did pay her any heed

Hi-jacked into the novel lands
She lay in her dream painted conch wall
Chafed against the sand and waves
Her home lost its shine and lustre

Many a passerby did kick her past
Her abode like a mother's womb guarded
Buried in the sandy beach, shrieked and wailed
Dream painted walls darkened into nightmares

Perishing under the sandy beach, choked and suffocated
But ebbs and flows were to her rescue
Updrew her, where she laid; the Insomniac
Neither dreams nor fantasies abducted her any longer.

Sun seeped into her conch another day
Unlike before she gleamed
A loony traveller did spent some time there that day
His compassion enclasped her and along he carried her

Spiritless

She laid in her bed unperturbed of anything
She knew her days were counted
Her smile endured all kins' tears
They swarm around as though to guard

The verdict of the practitioner was impertinent
"allopathy fails but homoeopathy and ayurveda?"so said her kith
She was enslaved by love, her will betrayed her
Her smile waned like she sensed a tempest brewing

First was homoeo then ayurveda,
One by one she laboured the fate of remedies
Reduced to skin and bones she laid in her death bed
Her eyes pondered through to meet her posterity's

Lot seemed to be said but words were few
Drawing the two closer she said she wanted to be freed

Freed from her bleeding bosom,

From the clasp of the oxygen cylinder,like a cattle tethered down

Days were done, my leave grew to a close
She pleaded me to stay till her soul was freed
Took no notice, taken her love for granted,walked away to parent my life
To hear she was gone, she was spiritless...and am I too?

Cliched Love...

Lakhs lavish their love on me,
Lakhs tarnish their love on me.

Infinite are the reasons to love,
Infinite are the lessons to love.

My birth forces the parental love
bound to parental duty,
concern and care, affection and affinity
Was that what I craved for?

My activities and fame causes the laity’s love
a break from the social chaos and worries,
admiration and appreciation, blessings and blisses.
Was that what I craved for?

My bubbly self and transient moods bind up the love of friendship
Out of gratitude to disentangled problems and timely amusements,
fun and faith, gossips and grins.
Was that what I craved for?

My accidents and mischances arouses the well wisher love
solacing gestures provoking sympathy,
pats and paxes, altruism and advices.
Was that what I craved for?

Comprehend my disconsolated identity, fondle my exhausted spirit.
Aloof me from my vengeful enemy, he follows me like a hound.
He poisons my breathing space, suffocating my air.
So harsh is my enemy, so brutal is my enemy.

A master of witchery and witchcraft,
cast an evil spell on my future and present.

My enemy’s triumphant smile at my frenzied state,
My relinquished smile at my defeated state.
My enemy and the disgruntled me soon signed an alliance
Allies for life, my love for life
I love my enemy
I love my past!

My suppressed cries and dry tears,
cant be seen by the lakhs,
cant be heard by the lakhs.

Lakhs lavish their love on me,
Lakhs tarnish their love on me.

Why Gulmohar ?

In quietude and squally, dewy, drizzly entourage I am tucked away into ever widening thoughts. How can a picture, an image, an ambiance bring you fond memories? I have often wondered. Sometimes I open my old albums or dig out old letters and cards and I am transported into those days and times in my life which I have cradled fondly.

It is strange, every time I see or envision a Gulmohar tree (The Flame tree/Royal Poinciana) in full blossom I become extremely nostalgic. The magical crimson red and orange flowers enveloping the lush green leaves remind me of the warm hugs and protection one is blest with during their youth and yesteryears or childhood; where you live under the canopy of love and affection of your family and elders.

Now as I document this; one incident takes me back to my childhood days. I was walking down an alley alongside my grandmother clinging on to her forefinger making plans to go to the temple in the evening for she had said there will be "aanamama" [elephant(child speech form in Malayalam)] and she could get me permission to feed and touch the elephant. I was delighted because I knew she always kept her promises unlike my parents who would bribe me with luring promises to get me to do my home work and then forget about it unanimously. My grandmother, was a very influential and respectable lady. She was a retired head teacher and nobody refused her anything. Everywhere we went her old students and people greeted her and tenderly pulled my cheek and petted me.

Needless to say I felt on top of the world and secretly proud. I felt like a little princess. I kept looking at my grandmother and she would smile back at me as if to say "its OK, you are fine." We stepped out of the alley way which led to a bridge above a brook. We sat down by the bridge and enjoyed the cool breeze while I peered down to watch the fish underneath, and my grandmother took out her paan box and made herself a paan. Chewing her paan she asked me if I wanted to catch them and take them home?

My eyes gleamed impishly and she stepped down and picked me up and carried me down. She set me down in the cool and crystal clear water of the brook and pulled off her "pallu" (the loose end of a sari) and gave me the loose end and she held on to her side. We waited quietly as instructed by her and the minute we saw a fish we would dip one edge and then slowly immerse the rest of the pallu and quickly scoop up the entire pallu when we were sure the fish is nearly captured but many a times they dodged us and as I grew impatient my grandmother would cuddled me and would reassure me telling me "try try till you succeed" and I obliged. Finally, we caught two at once and I wondered how to take them along? Of course, wasn't I fascinated to see my grandmother make a cone out of a colocasia leaf and she ladled in some water and as we put our catch of the day into the leaf cone with water, she kissed my forehead with her paan stained lips.

We walked back home and on our way back once in a while I would pull on my grandmother's sari and she would lower the cone down and I would be happy to see the fish swimming around in there. The cool breeze was even more enjoyable in my wet frock and sandals. As we approached home, I ran up ahead of my grandmother calling out to my cousins "meemi meemi!! "[fish fish!! (child speech form in Malayalam)]. We all ran back to my grandmother as she walked up to us, there was no end to my explanations and how "I" had caught them.

We later put them in the pond by the house and watched and fed them without fail for two days and forgot about it as we got busy with other adventures my grandmother had led us to.

When I returned to my parents after the glorious vacation I told them all about my days and how good it would be to go back there. Little did I know then how hard my parents had to work to make both ends meet.

A Balmy Evening

Beckoned by the bewitching brook
my dotty soul followed dancing
dancing down the alley to the brook
my crazy fancy hooked me there.

The bidding sky dressed in twilight
blushing, she bashfully awaits her demon lover
for day long she sat knitting her gown
Dare! Jinx her ineffable beauty.

In a jiffy did he steal my attention
a gust, hugging me, kissing me
twirling my hair, brushing it against my face
naughty as ever, ne'er will he change.

He moves away humming softly
he dances, he whistles, he sways
swept my scarlet scarf
waggling impishly into the brook.

Hurriedly I grabbed my scarlet scarf
lo! watch her, the gorgeous lady now in her jewel studded gown
romancing with her demon lover
she is lost, she is rapt
this mirror flowing endlessly beneath her, paints it live.

Twinkling stars and glow worms reign the night;
competing against each other, not letting the darkness swallow the ecstatic sight.

Oh Time! Please please wait.
Pause! Stop there!