the perfect painting for me

"I have been thinking about the meaning of life, about the purpose of it all. I have been thinking that we dogs are not only here to serve, but to love. We are here to give our hearts without condition, to offer solace when it’s needed, and to stand by, no matter the cost. For the truth is, the most important thing we can give is our loyalty. I have always loved with everything I am. And I will continue to love until the very end, because that is what a dog does."

Garth Stein - The Art of Racing in the Rain

Me, odiejo, bhairavijo,gymnujo, eetteejo and azhagijo.the perfect picture for me.

🎨 Alisa Smith Williams

my little Ms B with me. at home.

I brought my little girl home last night. The only thing I have of her steady eyes and calm wise unwavering presence. Brought her home. My anchor. I need her the most now. But all I got is her keepsake. The time of great turmoil have shown me who it was that was with me. Unquestioning. Unjudging. Just pure love. Understanding and acceptance. She preferred an air-conditioned room and a soft bed. But I gave her the floor and sweltering heat. She took it without batting an eye. There. The presence. Soft. Comforting. Her neck the one I cried into when I felt all was lost. Her eyes I looked into when all other eyes betrayed. Her heart beating full of love when I had none to give. 

I need her now. More than all else. And I have her not. 

I try. I will. For her sake. And for mine. And for the other two that remain. My love. My light. My guiding star. I see your eyes where ever I turn. 

Let's fly together. Where ever it takes us. 

Oh patoos. I cry as I write. May my tears not sadden you. I miss you. May my hearts ache not worry you. I miss you. 

I will walk. I will get up. Without you I may not run. But with you in my heart. I know I will soar. Rise up like a phoenix from your ashes I may. Your fire will make me stronger. Someday. Not today my love. My tears are putting out the candle flame. One day my dear lil one. But some day. One day soon. I promise you this. 

Oh My Love.  Oh my Lil one. 

My Lil Miss B 

❤️ 

kitty and jinnu memories...

I heard on the radio an old md rafi song...

Abhi na jao chod kar... It transported me back to when i was 7 years old... listening to this song sitting on an old mosaic floor tracing the patterns of black and brown flecks on the floor pattern while listening to it with my Grey haired old man occasionally singing and mostly humming the tune while the old radio crackled the song... in a big airy hall,  two divine instruments on the left in front of a glass case with the divine in the narthana pose... looking up and seeing the box television set sitting in the corner waiting and reserved to play the Pete Sampras game at 7 in the evening, while it was toasty and warm in the huge hall... 

The old lady with her saree crumpled half falling off her large bossom walking around with red lips from betel nut and leaf, her teeth stained, occasionally scowling at the old man but humming herself comforted by the familiar routine with the old man... 

I grew up in a house so full of music... 

Always playing these songs or the old lady practicing her instrument, watching with heart eyes picking up on her finger movements across the string, wanting to learn  buT never taught,  sneaking when Noone was home a hand at the strings while being entrusted to clean the kitchen and its counter, just trying to sound and look as effortless as the old lady while she played the Veena... 

Looking at the clock, scampering back to being the cleaning mouse before she came back from meeting her friends to make sure she never knew I touched her precious instrument, fearing the words that will surely follow if the counter was not clean enough... 

The day I got caught entering the forbidden store room, I was made to sit outside the house with a tape player, on the stairs, told to rewind and play rewind and play rewind and play, a achild, noting the words of a song about the lovely rose that was missing, which I never understood, 30 years later I still know the words to the song... only, now I know what the words mean... 

I remember the times I sneaked to the back room near the small worker balcony, to listen to English music at 7pm on the radio. Waiting for my mom to get home... listening to ABBA and Denver knowing my mom liked their music, hoping I become like her. And being as unlucky as I always was getting caught and asked to leave the house if I listened to this English music. Sneaking upstairs to the terrace where there wasn't any light to do my homework. Almost everyday, my escape at 5 when emotions peaked, watching the sunset, breathing in the fragrance of the jasmine flowers, I found an unusual friendship, a girl a year older than me. We met in the terrace. Me in my grandmother's, her in her parents. She stayed in the house behind our. She said she noted me coming upstairs and talking to the crows alone and thought it looked fun and asked if she could talk to me instead, her name? Prabha... she threw across chocolates she got from her nri aunts and uncles who came over to visit, I could never give her anything.. she never complained, that's just young children. 

Eventually her family moved, my mother realised what I was being made to do.. or did she... by some design I stopped organizing their hundred odd sarees and cleaning their kitchen, scrubbing their toilets. I hardly went there anymore. 

But when I do hear the old songs, I still remember the old man smiling quietly to himself while humming, when I hear someone play the veenai I remember the flourish and happiness with which jinnu played it. 

It was bad. But there are always beautiful moments that we remember. 

 I am starting to play the Veena soon. I have one of my own. I only hope to do it with the ease the old lady had in her. 

hello amma! my tummy hurts what do I do???

a turn off

So, a few weeks back... I had met my friend for lunch. A friend who has been there like a rock through the thick and thin. The crazy and the more crazy with me. A roller coster ride. Drove 8 hours to take my Lil Ms B for a drive for half anur and left after the drive to head back to work 8 hrs away. 

We met for dinner. 

He asked for a lime juice. With a Chilli split in the middle to be dropped into the juice. We were told the restraunt had no chillies. Ludicrous. What I would do? Say that's odd and move on. What he did. Call in an I owe you and weirdly it was so off. 

I'm not sure when I became so jaded. So worn out. That I just said delete. 

Is it just me? Or is age catching up with me? 

Just wondering.