When so near
Your fingers meet
Intertwine you must
Souls when near
Darkness will fall
When the sun fails
Moonlight shall light
When she decides to show her face
Through the curtain she peers
drops of sweat glistens
On the chest
Flows down a rivulet
The dusky skin
Awaits the breeze
By the shore of the river
A lone form
Watches the boat drifting along the tide
Eyes black as coal
Watching close for any change .
Goodbye or hello
We will never know.
A few days back I got a text wishing me the best.
From a person who's very dear. Who has stood the test of time. Who has mentored during grad school. While I saw him struggle with roadblocks that life gave him I was also the recipient of all his positivity and encouragement...
Life weathers you so much that over the years the diamond that you started out being gets covered in dust and mud and clay.
All it takes is for a strong rain to wash everything away and restore the brilliance and the beauty.
And shine you will. To the brilliance and back.
Until then, May the music be with you dear friend.
Waiting for the bus alone for over quarter of an hour... I looked for a place to sit... Sat in a stone road lining that people generally gather at sunset to talk about their day in the field before heading home to their families...
As the bus rolled in.. The town girl in me awoke after close to almost a decade... I had to grab hold of a seat by pushing my bag through a tiny window way above my head and wait my turn to get into the bus assured of a seat...
Quietly taking my seat from a man who screamed and told me that I could come standing why do I need a seat... I shouldn't react I told myself and turned my face to the window and look out at the fields....
How fast it all comes back... The instinctive reserving of the seat with what ever in your hand. The non responsiveness to the cursing of disappointed fellow passengers...
It could be that I am a town girl deep within.
I do dream of lazy mornings with my paper and a cup of coffee while my little one plays in the garden.
As i take the trip down I watch a few seats down a man sitting between his woman and a stranger... The woman as she watches out the window his arm reaches around her tenderly and pulls her flower adorned head onto his shoulder. That tender moment. Amid the purity of nature. Among the rustic language.
That tenderness.
And here i think we meet again.
Fate has it not
Who art thou to plan when the two lines shall meet
I hear a laugh
One that mocks
Time it is said to be a sarcastic player
The colors that shine has to be mine says the one thats impossible.
The long hand of the clock strikes twelve and another hour goes by.
Wait i do.
Until the tracks call the name of the destined one
Off you go says time fate and hope.
Funny thing time is.
A friend i told to button up and he said i know why... Coz women look at a mans chest but i cant figure out why though...
Thats when i realised what us women do unconsciously...
We stare at a mans chest just as the men stare at ours.
That little peak of curls from the wedge opening of the shirt just beneath the chin makes women think of warm hugs...
God knows even if the mans not a warm person to talk to but has a chest full of hair the eyes are drawn and the hearts warmed...
Blame it on natural instinct to look for warmth...
The lines are fuzzy...
And funny...
We should really be able to dissect our thoughts to find out the why f everything we do....
And they made an offer.
Im sure of what i want. Im pretty sure of what i need.
I also know what the implications of the offer is.
I am just not sure on how to verbalise to them that i wont take up on their offer. Their offer to change my daily routine from essential to luxury. From minimal to better. Their offer for me to afford a lot of other pluses. The lure of a vacation. The temptation of good restraunts. The beautiful sounds of live theater and music.
The tendrils of doubt have begun to creep up.
But i know what I am going to do.
I will give all this up for a little peace and a lot of stability even if it means my mattress is put on the floor instead of a teakwood beauty of a bed.
As long as my little one is around I can take all the punches even from a mud house.
Thats the power of unconditional love.
Sitting in the train. Listening to the rhythmic sounds soothes.
But now im sitting in the train. Alone. The compartments empty.
Random thoughts in my head.
Feeling blue.
What do you do when everyday feels like a mountain to climb. Add landmines to it.
The last one week has been like that. Not like that. Exactly that.
And ive been doing what bears do. Sleep away the times that you feel too cold.
My day has been out in the world and just head back home immediately after and crash.
The idea hasnt been to sleep through the evening and night. But to sleep for an hour. What do you call that a nap?
To nap an hour and take my little one go for a long walk maybe if my squeaky bones allow it for a half hearted run and make dinner after, crash after the 'long' day.
Day doesnt go like planned. There isnt anything in life that goes as planned obviously... Im applying the wider philosophy to even the little things in my life like pushing myself out of the bed.
Isleep.
I sleep through the sunset, the moon rise, the breeze of the lunar time, the smell of the jasmine blooms... I sleep. Awake once the sun is on his way across the skies once again, race against the clock. Late always to work. At first it was coz i was getting used to the new routine, now its because i am tired of the new routine.
At work smile my way through. Talk to people which is against my innate self. I want to be left alone. But that wouldnt happen ever when you need to put bread on the table does it. Inter personal intra personal relationships they say. All the psycological babble I have heard at sometime far away...
All the while waiting to get back to my little one.
Home is where the heart is ?
Home is where my blacknose is i say.
At some point. Soon. Earlier rather than later I want to be in a cocoon.
Where noone tries to manipulate me. Where i dont have to be guarded everytime someone talks to me. Where its just me. My music. My books. My little one.
Where i dont have to speak to be understood.
Where i dont have to scream to be heard.
Where i dont have to cry to be held.
Where i am just let to be me.
Move mountains.
Erase the stars.
Dry the ocean.
Clear the deep green emerald.
Make it glass.
Plant a seed.
Make it a tree overnight.
Love a heart fresh and new.
All volatile like the morning dew.
All impossible like a morning dream.
The colors of my mind are clean.
The heart pure.
The strings that bind are like that binding the kite to the hand.
Let go and always guided back.
Always connected.
Unseen.
Felt.
The tug constant.
The current strong enough to carry away.
String stronger to hold back.
I heard this song in one of the you tube videos.. I HAD to listen to the whole song and so I googled the words i remembered....
I was so surprised... I had dismissed the movie because of the less than regular videogame animation....
So easily I had dismissed it that I hadnt bothered to listen to the songs...
Now I wish I had... I would not have missed this beauty for half a decade...
I also wish I had someone who writes and sings these words to me...
A tall order... Vairamuthu... I doubt anyone can come close... With rehmans heart poured out in this song I can only say Im in love...
Totally completely hopelessly in love....
.
.
Kanneer Kaniyae Unnai Kaivida Maataen
Sathiyam Sathiyam Ithu Sathiyamae
Maalai Soodiya Kaalai Kathirinmaelae
Sathiyam Sathiyam Ithu Sathiyamae
Oru Kuzhanthai Polae Oru Vairam Polae
Thooimaiyaana En Sathiyam Punithamanathu
Ippiravil Innoru Pennai Sinthaiyiul Thodaen
Pirithor Pakkam Maram Saaya Piriyam Kaappaen
Chella Gholusu Sinungal Intha Saevai Saerpaen
Netri Pottil Mutham Pathithu Nitham Ezhuvaen
Kaiporul Yaavaiyum Karaithaalum Kanakku Kaelaen
Ovoru Vaathamum Mudiyumbothu Unnidam Thorpaen
Kanneer Kaniyae Unnai Kaivida Maataen
Sathiyam Sathiyam Ithu Sathiyamae
Maalai Soodiya Kaalai Kathirinmaelae
Sathiyam Sathiyam Ithu Sathiyamae
Artha Jaamam Thirudan Pola Athirnthu Paesaen
Kaamam Theerum Pozhuthilum Enthan Kaathal Theeraen
Maatha Malarchi Maraiyum Vayathil Maarbu Kødupaen
Nøi Madiyødu Nee Vizhunthaal Thaai Madiyaavaen
Šwasam Pøla Arugil Irunthu Šugapadavaipaen
Unthan Uravai Ènthan Uravai Nenjil Šumapaen
Un Kanavugal Nijamaaga Ènayae Tharuvaen
Un Vaazhvu Mannil Neela Ènayae Tharuvaen
Kanneer Kaniyae Unnai Kaivida Maataen
Šathiyam Šathiyam Ithu Šathiyamae
Maalai Šøødiya Kaalai Kathirinmaelae
Šathiyam Šathiyam Ithu Šathiyamae
Oru Kuzhanthai Pølae Oru Vairam Pølae
Thøøimaiyaana Èn Šathiyam Punithamanathu
Thøøimaiyaana Èn Šathiyam Punithamanathu
Thøøimaiyaana Èn Šathiyam Punithamanathu
Kochadiyan
Vairamuthu
A. R. Rehman
Someone asked me last week how i want to live my life....
This morning while i am sitting with my filter coffee in hand watching the drizzle... I think...
I realise I am a home person, this is how I want my life to be...
Relaxed...
Having time to enjoy my morning cup of coffee, reading the paper. The little one sitting and watching the trees move companiably.
Ideally among fields of green, chill air around with dew on the leaves of plants in my garden sitting in a wicker chair watching kids from the neighbourhood play and households waking up to the sounds of the temple bell.
With no race against time.. Against peoples opinions...
Its hard to let go
As you stand on tge other side of the riverbank
I watch the current pull tender shoots with a mind of its own
I extend my hand to call out to you
My hand raised
My voice fails
As i see your back you dont hear my call
You move making circles trying to see me
Trying to hear my voice
My voice is not heard
My hand falls
My throat parched
I watch
I watch you move, you walk, you search
Nothing to do but watch
Nothing i can do but watch
The river flows
The shoots are carried with the water toward the ocean
The river flows
I dont see i dont hear
But the river flows
Today for the first time in decades i felt unsafe.
Unsafe to be a woman.
To walk down the road and be tapped on your back and being oogled at while it was being done.
I was draped in a saree. The cotton starched saree which i always saw myself draping once i hit my thirties...
Walking down the road that i have almost always walked alone on...
A man stumbled along... I thought in a drunken stupor little did i know men use that gait to feel womenfolk up.
Him and i crossed paths...
I gave him a wide berth to stumble around and find his footing, as i walked past toward a grocery shop to get myself a bottle of water and a banana, i felt a hand slap my behind and grope, as i turned to see what was happening and to actually do something about it i saw him blow a kiss with the hand to my butt...
It was demeaning...
It was embarassing...
I felt so violated...
It was the man i thought was drunk...
And because i assumed he was drunk I let it slide and turned away with my head down and my eyes cringing.... Crowds of people watching not doing anything...all dressed like working professionals just standing watching... Doing nothing while he lunged at the pallu of my saree to pull off my chest...
In a minute, a man, another on the road, a man who was tired from his daily labor, a rickshaw puller stepped up and hit the man and told him to stop and think about his wife and children and ran the gropper away.
I didnt buy what i went for. But i got much more.
All i did was
I folded my hands to him and said thank you.
If only there were people like him i mau feel a lot safer on the roads henceforth.
But for now home delivery from amazon and flipkart makes a lot more sense. :(
It hurts.
Just does.
Dont know what.
Dont know how.
It hurts anyway.
What ever they say
Pain doesnt teach love.
Hurt anyway.
Tears of blood will turn into pearls someday.
Eyes that twinkle may turn to stars for real.
The heart that dreads may hold tighter till the end.
The dread that envelopes may never end.
Forever and more.
There are fights and then there are fights.
But fights and arguements are said to show how much one heart cares for the other.
If that is so why does one bleed when the other lashes... Or why does the other run when this one squeezes too tight...
The matters of the heart are not meant for the mind to understand. That much has been cleared over the last year.
Near but so far that i wish to go far to be near.
I would rather be in a place far away.
I would rather stay in a semi urban or even downright rural region.
It somehow gave me the freedom. The peace of mind that i have been so used to over the last decade, that now when i finally come down to the place i thought was best for me I feel so distanced and so very alone.
Its not because I am alone in anysense. Its because of all the negativity that I sense around me... Also because my lil one makes new friends and forgets to say hi to me when i come home... :)
I think i found the reason...
Coz i dont get such an enthusiastic i missed you all day from the lil one that i domt like going to a city... Hrrrmmmppfff
The last week went by in a rush. Its like time had a flight to catch, caught it and flew away.
So much has happened.
The two meets i wanted to attend and didnt know about graciously accepted my proposals though late by two weeks, which was amazing.
Then I drowned myself in filling enough jars for the visitor to marvel at, all the while painfully aware i am behind in preparing for my conferences but I didn't want to do the preparation at work so i gave it a rest.
If i got too tired and my back was sore i sat with the Bible in hand and just read. Pored over every word comprehending,visualising, trying to bring a 3 dimensional image in my head that i could verbalise to children....
All the while unaware of all the poisonous snakes circling close....
The snakes that i fed milk to daily, the ones that I let survive were eyeing and praying my six foot frame fall with a thud for them to prey over my carcass.
The axe was being sharpened.
The thread tested.
The block of wood in place.
Saturday the vulture called saying "there are complaints against you." im sure you cant be more ambiguous even if you tried harder.
The stage was set. My neck n the block. The axe with its glinting blade newly sharpened hanging a few feet above from a delicate thread...
Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst.
The countdown for winding up has begun ticking., just like my biological clock has been for a while... Anyway im diverting...
The sound of the clock ticking away is getting louder by the day...
Its time to start flooding the floors with my resume.
The first time that I am actually asking someone for a job... Or attending interviews.
Lets hope this works if it does in the next 60 days.
I walked in. As i pushed the gates open i notice how things have changed.
The cows dont come stand outside waiting for the old lady to give them kitchen wastes and dried pooja flowers....
The moneyplant crawling up the trunk of a tree older than me was withering away....
The house redone in colors....
I climb the stairs leaving my shoes the way i used to as a child one floor down.... Touching the railing for reality and to help me stay standing....
I walk...
I walk tall.... Draped in a saree, into the house i left in a pinafore and swore i would never go back to....
The house that saw me color my hands the day before my wedding which was offered as a peace gesture... By a lady that will be rolled up to the gates anytime now...
I walked into see the same furniture of the past... The same wall hangings... Nothing changed... Everything the same but yet different...
I saw the old lady wailing like she was orphaned while surrounded by her children and grandchildren....
I saw all the relatives that were slighted turn into one mass of humanity showing grief and support to the lady who kept tangibles closer than blood bonds....
As i entered the kitchen and turned to see the storage room that the old lady hid food and hoarded everything when i was in the house like how you would in the presence of a house help....
Coffee offered and declined. I amot sure if i can push anything down my throat from the kitchen of the house.... I move away to a quiet corner....
The lady i saw in the hospital two days back clawing her way to consciousness is being carried in.
Decked up as a bride while a widow. The rituals being conducted. In the same place that kittu was. As i stood in the same place that i did 7 years back. Then i was moved for what ever it was worth i had in my heart the space to forgive him... But now my eyes refused and so did my heart.
Unattached i looked on. The cleansing ritual was begun. The womenfolk struggled, i stepped in. Clinically and efficiently stripping her of any dignity she had left and helped them get over it all.
All i kept thinking was that I need to wash my hands thoroughly after.
I did realise that i was more shaken to see Gubas dad when he was taken on his final journey.
She was carried by four unrelated men. Her tributes were strong from people on how selfless and how helpful and kind she was.
These words to relate to this lady lying there infront of me were.....
Selfless.
Kind.
Helping.
Pure.
Maybe. But to me. My family. Me. These were not the first words that would come while thinking of her. Nonetheless. There i was. The prodigal grand daughter. The one that defied a lot of the predictions set out by her the cunning son and the old lady.
No i will not eat thank you i say.
I am told not to loose health over grief.
The practical person advising me hardly knows how i have never been fed in that house anything but leftovers... How i swore i will never eat there or even drink water from that house ever again...
How i swore to myself to never enter the house again but the black bony claws of death has brought me back for the sake of the lady that birthed me....
The one or two who were perceptive enough to look into my eyes asked how long has it been since you came here....
Long...
Too long....
But never long enough i say....
As i sit in the veranda that my little one loves to supervise everyone from the neem tree swayed... Gently the leaves did sing to me...
Throwing me back into years long gone...
The years where a house that once stood with a green asbestos shed as cover for a single proudly parked car...
The big neem tree supporting the weight of a creeper with veins thick as my child wrist...
Under which a little one was buried.... Who years later i still remember trying to dig up from the bossom of the rich soil and the roots of the resilient tree....
The flowers which she spinkled were gathered by me.... The tiny white drops which in the heat changed into gold... Up climbed the industrious child in her paavadai or pinafore depending on the day of the week.... At a time where no safety nets were thought to be put for the child that climbed up the wall onto a small projection of the roof jutting out somewhere in between the two floors of which one was the terrace all for a jar full f dry neem flowers... Golden colored little beautiful delicate flowers that tasted so divine..
Sweep the sit out.. Climb... Sweep the projection... Scramble onto the terrace using broken pots as a foot hold and then... Scoop every heap you made...
If the sun sets the flowersll get damp she said....
And if they get damp your little one will not get her milk she said....
Sitting and drinking her coffee in a well made cozy cane chair that looked like a bucket...
I realise Now as i sit drinking my coffee under a neem tree.. It feels surreal...
All faults known.
All blemishes seen
All the dents and bumps revealed.
Acceptance a blessing.
One thats rare and not taken for granted.
The space given respected
The eyes soften upon resting on the face
All worries forgotten
All forgiven
Arms ever open
An easy smile to light tired eyes
The understanding dawns
The blessing held close to the chest
Heart slows down into calmness
An all encompassing calmness descends
What happens in life must.
What is meant to be will be.
Philosophy is easy to think out loud and let things go by without any more thought to it.
It is as it is and so it will be.
But
What makes it as it is.
Can we change the course it takes.
Can a small stone in the riverbed change the course of the mighty river that flows through.
The strong currents that pull the stone... Can it be resisted?
History shows that even a blade of grass can change the course that life takes...
The stone can make a ripple.
The ripple may take the form of a wave somewhere along...
That wave may change a life eventually...
Let me be the stone.
Let the strength to endure the current pervade me.
Let the ripple unknowingly formed thus give rise to a mighty wave that washes a souls feet...
The grains of sand from the feet of that great soul may redeem me of my sins past present and future...
A man i lost. A man with all his faults but a kind compassionate caring silent presence that was taken for granted.
If he was present it was always meant good memories for me.
A 555 box reminds me of him. For a long time when those boxes of tobacco was still not selling in India anyone who visited from america had to bring a carton of those for daasaab.
The time that i as a little child took a bus all alone in the big bad world where monsters still existed under the bed to the town where he stayed with my great grand mother while my mother realised i wasnt home a day after i left while he taught me to ride a cycle. The big people cycle without the safety wheels in a ground which no longer exists replaced by tall buildings.
The doctor saab from pre independence who eventually became dasaab and is finally free from his cage that limited him.
The only reason i kept going back home is no longer a reason.
Nothing holds me anymore.
Nothing comes easily.
Feel this empty space.
Nothing is as it seems
I just lost everything.
All i want is to feel your embrace...
Rest in peace daasaab maamaa.
I will always miss you.
When we say theres a tumor. We dont always mean it in a bad way. Its just a bunch of cells hat are not supposed to be where they are because we, asoctors have a fixed idea of whats normal and whats not.
Atleast medically anyway.
There are a few tumors like the one that grows on your kidney which makes you happy all the time.
And when we take it out.
The high disappears. The mood returns to normal.
What happens when people around prefered you when you were buzzed and happy coz the tumor kept u happy?
What happens when they cant handle the normal you and would rather have just left that mass right where it was.
What happens then.
How does it work then?
Would they just leave you and walk away? Would they wish that they had never brought you i to the ER?
A question was asked...
Do you believe in heaven...
Think i did.
What is heaven. What is hell.
Isnt heaven and hell defined in ones state of mind?
If i am in excruciating pain. Painlessness would be heaven.
If i an painless wouldnt pleasure be heaven.
When experiencing pleasure wouldnt the thought of pain be hell...
Ive opened the compose tab around a million times the last few days....
Not knowing what to write have closed it and wondered what i wanted to write about or even why i wanted to.
But lets be honest.
The last two weeks have been quite hard.
So near
Yet
So far.
Has never sounded true to me. Atleast until now.
So close to reach out but too far to touch.
The hardest is not talking about the manipulator who i work with who thankfully is giving me the cold shoulder because i have apparently slighted him.
But truth be told i havent seen this much peace at work the last four years as i have the last two.
The silence is beautiful.
Its mine.
It envelopes me like a cloak to take me to a far away land that only my mind can travel to leaving my body behind... far far behind.
From dust to dust.
From fire to fire.
In the air the fragrance wafts.
The one that my hearts been looking for,
The one that my mind cant find...
The twines of which pull the strings of my heart open...
The heart that unfurls like the tender petals of the pure untouched lotus responding to the first rays of the soft sun.
The mind but a drop of dew on the tip of the last petal to feel the warmth of the sun only to have all else around wilt away.
Ive opened the compose tab around a million times the last few days....
Not knowing what to write have closed it and wondered what i wanted to write about or even why i wanted to.
But lets be honest.
The last two weeks have been quite hard.
So near
Yet
So far.
Has never sounded true to me. Atleast until now.
So close to reach out but too far to touch.
The hardest is not talking about the manipulator who i work with who thankfully is giving me the cold shoulder because i have apparently slighted him.
But truth be told i havent seen this much peace at work the last four years as i have the last two.
The silence is beautiful.
Its mine.
It envelopes me like a cloak to take me to a far away land that only my mind can travel to leaving my body behind... far far behind.
From dust to dust.
From fire to fire.
In the air the fragrance wafts.
The one that my hearts been looking for,
The one that my mind cant find...
The twines of which pull the strings of my heart open...
The heart that unfurls like the tender petals of the pure untouched lotus responding to the first rays of the soft sun.
The mind but a drop of dew on the tip of the last petal to feel the warmth of the sun only to have all else around wilt away.
A meeting.
A hundred little bottles ofcwater.
I step out. Unable to stand the crowd.
Walk away
And watch the minions. The nobodys who make this place run without who all the background noise will fall silent.... filling a hundred bottles and sealing them with drops of glue.
Within minutes a sack full of empty plastic bottles turn into packaged drinking water.
Tht is no lie.
It is packaged.
Just not where you thought it was though.
I kept peeping into each bus looking to see if the seats were cushioned and if there was a push back.
You wouldnt believe the number of buses that dont have what we considered basic comforts if i told you!
I hit the jackpot. Third time lucky!
The guy who issued my ticket says no seats in the front go get comfortable at the rear of the bus so you can get your muscles massaged with all the bumps on the road and alight with a sore back. I look at him pleading with a smile trying to work the im a woman travelling alone scenario as much as i could and he obliged with a seat two rows behind his own.
Near a man who filled his seat quite well i must add. I then understood why he thought i may not be alright at the front of the bus.
Or so i thought.
I was settling in to drift into a land of healing my creaking joints after an uphill trek.
My muscles sore.
When i got chatted up.
And it wasnt really a pick me up. But it was cherry topped with an im not sure if it was a pick up.
The conversation started with... oh u climbed the hill? And went on to how my face says i have gone through tough times last two years and how my parents are sick and how i am well intentioned but it comes and bites me in my arse...
I guess its generic. Everyone thinks theyve been having toughh times... so we lean forward and say hmm... people read that and go on...
These guys who claim to be psychic i say!
Anyway
And then comes the icing on the mudcake...
he says. I read the vedas everyday. So if u talk to me u will have positive vibrations from me and through the phone u will have tht positive effect... (what nonsense i think through it all) if he was a good face reader he would have read my disinterest by now u think? NO...!
He keeps at it and finally finishes saying u should come visit the place i stay at...theres this temple ill take u there...
That was my signal to fake sleep.
Makes me question who is really genuine and whos not in the whole wide world.
27 adds to a 9.
It is an odd number.
Or is it.
Yup im sure its an odd. 2,4, 6 is an even right?
A few people remembered the evil in the odd number.
Wish more did.
Happy 2017!
Good february it has turned out to be **ironic smile**
These hills have seen me through good sturdy decisions and horribly skewed ones...
A friend whos beyond the seas i always remember to take the climb with me...
Been getting pushed indefinitely,
The time is now.
I ask not what should be.
I ask not what the heart wants.
I climb watching the devout lighting camphor and smearing colors each step of the way...
I watch the deer friendly to take greens from hands of two legged doe eyed little ones...
I climb not expecting to see the destination...
I climb because he wants me to...
I climb because he called...
because i do before every step i take... good or not...
Leaving my little one at home i climb the seven hills
The hills so pure
So far yet so near
The hills i climb.
Finally!
Had lost all social media communication for a while and now simply it decided to materialise on a fine morning sunday at that!
Anxiety resolved!
Im not on facebook and whatever else kids use these days all the insta and tweets are not mine..
But whatsapp disappeared and i am a person who people have to leave a txt to reach me!
Whatsapp addiction established!
And surprise surprise! My blogger app reappeared too!
Yaay!
Now that i am at peace about being reachable i can start work on the long list of sunday chores!
