A liberated soul

Yesterdays

2012-01-29T17:02:00.003+04:00

Life wasn't perfect or great but I wrote letters of love and poems of pain. Seeking pleasures from little nothings.

I wonder what happened to those yesterdays...

What happened to yesterdays?

Diary: Page 1

2012-01-25T15:50:00.003+04:00

When silence comes between us, I am stuck. I get locked and not a word I can utter. Is why I keep talking...blah..blah..blah..and blah..and blah..

I know, I really know how to shut up. But I am scared of silence and I don't know how to explain it to you and blah..blah..blah..

It's like I am prisoned and I am suffocating and all of sudden the air around is hot and I want to jump walls and free myself and blah..blah...blah...

So I blah and blah and blah and kill you! And how I wish you read this.

Where was I?

2012-01-23T09:29:00.000+04:00

I was finding myself. I got lost somewhere. The somewhere is where I found you. I lost myself there again.

I always try to do something for myself and end up doing something to make you happy.

I always try to say what I want and end up listening to what you want from me.

I always lose myself whenever you come in my way. So one day I ran away and never looked back. Months later when I thought I should find myself again, there you are! In middle of so many lost thoughts, I found you again and lost myself again.

Once, twice and don't know how many more times.

Dubai

2012-01-22T14:17:00.003+04:00

The weather is back. Winter. It's cold and cloudy.

It might just rain and I might just start....writing...

Series: Moods-3

2011-07-10T11:24:00.002+04:00

My heart alone knows.....

Series: Moods-2

2011-01-10T15:23:00.002+04:00

I see a lonely future, but I hesitate to step back.

Maybe I should just take a step ahead, from the roof top of a 26 storey building.

Everyday

2010-10-20T17:39:00.001+04:00

Where am I?

From here I can see the sky and the sea in the same frame. I can see the two meeting at some point.

What time is it?

And now I can see an orange sun melting into that point.

What happens?

2010-09-22T13:05:00.000+04:00

I have missed a few months of posting here. It wasn't what I expected from myself when I started off blogging. I have no excuses to fill up in here but at the same time I don't what it is.

It's not at all like brushing your teeth every morning. To do what you want and which is out of your routine needs a lot of determination. Yes, we all know.

So when you are distracted from little goals in life, I am wondering what happens to the determination you stocked up for the purpose(s)?

Reason

2010-09-19T11:42:00.002+04:00

My tears don't have a reason. They just flow and flow like there is no tomorrow. I try and hold back a few but they are adamant and make their way.

The pain...I don't know what it is. And when I don't know the reason, the helplessness makes the tears flow more.

Like there is no tomorrow but just today.

A loner

2010-09-19T11:05:00.003+04:00

loner |ˈlōnər|nouna person who prefers not to associate with others.

You left me alone...

2010-04-12T17:28:00.001+04:00

...to find out if I would miss you? Or to see if I would cry? Or to laugh at my broken wings? Or to hurt my healing wounds? Or was it to kill the lover in me? Tell me.

Why was there even a doubt, when it was apparent that I am the lover among us and not you and that I will no doubt miss you and cry a river and fly no more and bleed till I fall weak but that was not enough and you wanted to kill the lover in me for your what ever selfish reason.

And I don’t know yet if the lover has died.

Maybe...

2010-03-23T09:58:00.001+04:00

...you did mean it. And I was a fool to think you didn't.

Good luck? or Goodbye?

Series: Moods-1

2010-03-03T12:19:00.001+04:00

For a change I need some love today.

Difference

2010-02-24T15:52:00.002+04:00

There is a little difference between you and me.

You live. You really live.

I live. I just live.

A little difference of a word between us...

Off to never never-land

2010-01-13T16:31:00.005+04:00

Now the other world will be only a dream for you. You will see a dream once in a while about an intense love, drug cigarettes and some slow guitar. You will remember me and want me. All this will bring you here. Right here to my blog.

You will search for yourself here and I know I will see a desperate man then. A man whom I know never wanted light but nights. Nights when we smoked more love than drugs. Kisses that gave the taste of blood. Each other’s blood. A love like raw.

When you are tired and about to leave I will come to liberate you. By then I am sure you won’t wait or want me. You will just want to get back to living life. And not a dream.

Because I am a dream. In past, present and future.

Exit light

Enter night

Take my hand

We’re off to never never-land

Untitled

2009-11-03T16:43:00.001+04:00

The only reason why you love me, well loved me, was perhaps the shameless honesty I maintained between us. It was almost like being naked. Talking naked? The point is, yes I wanted you to go away and all that. That was when you were madly in love with me. I hated it. But I knew I would be desperate once you go. Forever only, mind you! Yes, we are indeed talking about forever going away. So I am desperate now.

Why don’t you love me? Madly?

Why don’t you tell me it’s killing you when I avoid you?

Why don’t you sing me Blunt’s ‘Your beautiful’?

Okay, fine. I will let you touch my feet because you like the color of my nail paint. I won’t say ‘no’ this time.

I will even let you smell the perfume on my neck. I won’t say ‘no’.

I promise. I wont.

Only if you stay where you are maybe. I don’t know. You have gone forever haven’t you?

An incomplete page from my diary

2009-10-30T08:25:00.000+04:00

I was feeling very uneasy last night. A new dark and still bedroom, a small flickering candle on the bedside, I shifted sides feeling uncomfortable. The candle was it that made me feel so uneasy.

I don’t like flickering candles. And in anyway how was it flickering when the windows were closed. The room was silent and still. There was no moving air. Then? The candle simply resembled my mind. I thought. And that is why I guess I don’t like flickering candles. The fact that it was reminding me about my unsteady mind made me lose my little sleep of the night.

I blame. Myself.

2009-09-09T08:32:00.003+04:00

If you really wish to go, I will do nothing to stop you. Because I know you will never realize how committed I was to you. How honest! Minutes back I thought you deserved all that and now not even another word from me. Not even a ‘goodbye’.

You hurt me. Trust me, it’s alright. I don’t blame you for anything. Because it is much easier to blame onself.

I blame. Myself.

Because I don’t love you…

2009-08-19T08:50:00.003+04:00

You always ask me why I get so upset when you give me something that I haven’t asked for. Love?! Gifts?! Whatever.

So now I decide to tell you why. Because our relation doesn’t deserve that little extra thing. The pleasure of exchanging that bit of extra love?! Gifts?! I will ask and you are supposed to give only so much. Vice versa too. Because that is how our relation should be. Because I am the one to decide how it should be. Because you have no say in this matter. Because you are the one in love with me and not me. Because I think you are really silly. Because you always listen and never argue with me.

And because I can never love you but can anytime hate you for a while.

The extra bit of everything you so crazily give me doesn’t make me love you is what I want to say….is just what I want to say…

A puppet last night

2009-07-21T12:42:00.001+04:00

My joints weak, I felt like a clumsy puppet in your lap. Puppets don’t speak. So I didn’t. And what did you do? You made me dance to your song. The strings tearing my veins. Puppets don’t cry. So I didn’t.

What do puppets do? They dance. So did I. I danced to your song.

A clumsy puppet in your hands.

Relativeness

2009-06-29T11:18:00.001+04:00

You are a photographer. Not just one, but quiet a famous one. And you take me to your house to show me your collection of photos. I look at each in excitement. Excitement that wishes to hide away in eyes. You saw it? No?! My lips slightly apart, I am lost in your world of images.

Our minds converse with each other and I begin:

‘These aren’t pictures.’

‘Hmm..So what are these?’

‘Some are images of my thoughts.’

‘Is that all?’

‘And some…some are images of our relativeness.’

The more I am…

2009-06-25T10:14:00.000+04:00

…open to you, the more I feel I am yours.

Maybe that is just for me.

Don’t make that face just because I am naked by the time you are on bed.

Goodnight!

.....permanently?

2009-05-12T15:33:00.006+04:00

You don't seem to understand, but I think you must. I deleted you, long back. Months back.

Now to make it more clear I say 'goodbye'.

A wait to find you

2009-04-28T09:09:00.004+04:00

I hate looking back. Because I see only you. The worst part is you have a smile on your face. Always. At moments like these my heart starts burning. I wish you knew. Now I know I want you. I turn back and like always I see you gone. Yes, gone.

Happens always. So what do I do then? I search for you and wait to tell you of the pain I have gone through in finding you. The pain because of the fire that you lit in me every time I look back into the past and see that smile of yours. The fire that leaves my heart alone burning.

Happens always. So what do I do then? I search for you and wait to tell you of the pain I have gone through in finding you.

Happens always. So what do I do then?

I wait to find you.

I painted the summer

2009-04-12T10:08:00.006+04:00

Done with rain this year, I thought of settling with summer. I felt the need to love the summer this year. Somehow, oddly! So I thought of painting this summer. A summer in three colors. Red, yellow and blue. A touch of white if you say. You like bright skies and white clouds, don’t you? But no birds fly. No rivers flow. No butterflies live. Only three colors. Red, yellow and blue.

When he came home, I covered his eyes and took him to into our room. Meant to be a surprise. I took my hands away and he finds himself in a dark room. Is this our room, he doubts? I have hung the summer paintings on the four walls of our room. And yet it’s dark. He turns from his side to side, lost like a child playing hide and seek, doing the seek job. I watch him from a corner of the room. We stood silent in that room but I thought I heard his heartbeats. He came running to me the next moment and hugged me tight. But why? I wish he knew that he had actually squeezed every bit of breath out of my body. I was breathless.

The next morning, I ask him at the breakfast table:

‘Why did you over react last evening?’

He looks busy reading the newspaper. But I saw him smile.

‘All right, if you wish not to say. I am planning to paint spring tomorrow.’

He looks at me worriedly.

The next moment I find myself breathless in his hug. What about this over reaction, I ask myself.

And then he tells me, now when I am not asking him:

‘It’s good to try new ideas. But you don’t lock away the bright summers in dark rooms.’

After a long stare into the sky through the window, he added ‘and it does rain sometimes in summer too. At least it should in yours I say!’

Perplexed. Me.

The little talk

2009-03-25T09:46:00.006+04:00

We thought of a nice late-evening walk. And talk. We thought of the Jumeirah beach. Of course we knew the palms are growing fast and steady and that there aren’t enough waves to pamper our feet. But there is something about the walk in Jumeirah. The sight is one beautiful sight with the Burj Al Arab standing tall adding luxury to the beach. And who wouldn’t notice the far away Atlantis. It isn’t any less than a dreamland.

Well, getting back to the walk. Oh yes the talk too. We lie down on the beach spoiling our hair and clothes, looking up at the sky filled with twinkling stars. We remain silent for a long time until he decided to break it.

‘I read your blog regularly.’

I ignore and close my eyes.

‘I said, I read your blog regularly.’

I sit up with crossed legs and play with the sand. Did I smile?

‘It's nice.’

Yes I did smile.

‘Just that I don’t understand a lot of it.’

I burst out laughing. Okay! Sorry!

‘But it's good. Really!’

Smiles! Smiles! Smiles!

I wish I could believe him. But all I knew then, was that I would have something to write today. With smiles!

No Title

2009-03-19T08:53:00.002+04:00

So I look at my blog. And then look at the shiny red apple in my hand. Crunch! Some months for me are meant to be lazy. Especially a month like March.

Tsk! Who likes summer so much?

On a bad…

2009-03-01T09:29:00.003+04:00

…morning like today’s
I wish to go back.
To a beautiful morning of January,
Misty and cold.

A picture that I so carelessly clicked.
Where is the beauty?

Intellectual lovers

2009-02-25T15:59:00.006+04:00

We are lovers.

We make love;

Not with our bodies,

But with our words.

We are lovers.

We are intellectual lovers.

Finding refuge

2009-02-16T15:02:00.000+04:00

Last night I cried. If you ask why I just wish I had one word answer to it. Something like ‘you’. I just wish. Just to blame you. But it isn’t just about you. I cried because you seem to know everything about me. You tend to predict my thoughts and actions. Whatever, I don’t like it. I don’t like it when you are this way with me. The feeling of vulnerability kills me. No! It tears me into pieces many.

I cried last night till the lumps in my throat gave way for hiccups. When I cry a lot I get hiccups. You didn’t know this about me right? And it goes on for hours. Very embarrassing.

I listened to music, it didn’t help. I tried to continue reading the current book, it didn’t help. I hugged a pillow, it didn’t help. I sobbed through the night drinking water to stop the hiccups. I sobbed and sobbed. I sobbed because I felt guilty. Guilty of finding refuge in a stranger.

Finding refuge in you.

It was raining…

2009-02-12T17:17:00.006+04:00

…when I first heard your voice. You don’t believe me?! I knew you wouldn’t. I was not sure if it was raining at your side. But it was raining on this side. It was raining in my heart. Your voice and the rain - a heavenly blend. I drifted into a world of imaginations where I saw a day that will never come. A day when I will meet you. A day when only you will speak and I will listen. A day for me to quench my thirst for your voice. I would kiss your adam’s apple, move up to your sharp jaw line and then to your lips feeling you with closed eyes. Your words, I want them virgin. I want to swallow every word that you utter. Suck it with my mouth if you utter none. A day when our bodies won’t touch but will only our lips. A day that will never come.

Sing me a song of rain tonight
Whisper me a poem of love
Let me sleep with a dream tonight
A dream of a day that will come…

Note: This is about a passion or more of an obsession for a voice that I listen to that is so striking and soothing. Though the feelings in this post is described as a physical way of absorbing the goodness of the voice that I am in love with, let me tell you, it is purely a psychological thing. Like this one, where it is the opposite.

For a lifetime and more…

2009-02-11T14:03:00.001+04:00

Why did you have to be the most selfish person I had met? It could have been anyone else. But no! It’s only you. And I can’t find anyone like you. Anyone as selfish as you. The more I loved you, the more selfless I became. Perhaps that is why I now feel I will need a lifetime to hate you.

And another lifetime to hate you completely.

The want…

2009-02-04T16:53:00.001+04:00

…to know me might end here.

There isn’t much about me, if you were thinking of knowing me better. Just a little here and there, which I try to put through in some of my posts. But if you insist in knowing me then let me tell you not everything about me is as beautiful as you imagine.

First being, I like to be rude. I could be rude with you too. Why do you think I need help? You like my writing, you like my love for rain, you like the way I reply to your questions in questions and still you think I am problematic? A problem woman! Don’t I look like an interesting woman to you? An interesting woman?

See, I told you. I could be rude with you. I could still be. How can you help me anyway? I was born like this. I was born in two different worlds. One where I live alone and the other where you live & others. You can help me? You think so? But you know what I thought? I thought you were one like me. Living in two worlds. I thought we could understand each other. But you are not. You want to know me better to help me.

You there? Gone? I was just scaring you. It was an example.

The second being, I could be irritating too. After the rude part, I could be a little puppy licking your face all over. I might irritate you with my endless sorries, sloppy kisses and uncomfortably tight hugs. You might want to push me away, but I will stick to you. Literally! Like glue.

To be never continued….

What are you?

2009-01-22T15:14:00.016+04:00

I am a book that people like to read, but would not like to study. The shorter the stories, the easier they find it to read. A book that attracts every passerby with the cover picture that resembles a painter’s pallete in black and white. Glossy and all that but has no colors. Oh yes! And no one will ever want to exchange me for any other books. They want me forever to be there in their bookshelf. Why?! After busy mornings, busy afternoons, busy evenings and tiring night outs, once in a while reading me makes them feel different. More complex maybe in other words. And that’s exactly what they want; the pleasure of feeling oneself being complicated, the pleasure in brooding, the pleasure in finding pain, the pleasure of admiring sinful lust, the pleasure in considering suicide, the guilty pleasure of entertaining negative thoughts, the pleasure of forgetting the once-important in life, the pleasure of imagining the never experienced, the pleasure of never letting go oneself, the pleasure of confessing sins, the pleasure in being crazy and so many more.

Some others are people who are good storytellers. I am not sure if I have helped them anytime, but I seem to remain in their bookshelves too, occasionally moving to their beds for bed time reading and sometimes among the pile of books next to table lamp.

In short what am I. I am book full of long and short stories, both real and fiction.

I am never everything but also never something...sometimes...

Thoughts on a rainy day

2009-01-15T10:49:00.002+04:00

In the early morning hours of a beautiful day, I am carelessly walking through a small familiar village of Kerala. An unknown, yet so familiar village. I am walking through a forest, tall trees on my either sides, rich green color, the smell of wild flowers, twittering of birds.

I have now reached a playfield. A large empty playfield. A football ground, I am guessing. There is none. Not even an old punctured football in some corner. I start walking again. I notice there is a wall stretching long on my left side. How? I stop and take a closer look of the wall. I gently touch the rust colored laterite wall bricks. My fingers fall into the holes on the bricks. It’s old. The walls! The bricks rather!

I am hearing music. From? I close my eyes and lean on the wall. The music is coming from the other side. It is the sound of bells. Temple bells! It is a temple wall.

‘Om Namah Shivaya…Om Namah Shivaya’

It is Lord Shiva. Images of the Shiva lingam flashes within. The color black with streaks of red. The third eye. Ashes! I pull myself away, scared for some reason that I do not know of. I look at the same old wall, but in amazement this time. It is now layered with wet green moss. The dews are twinkling. Beautiful! But was it there before? Few minutes back? No!

I don’t want to see the world anymore, however beautiful it may be. I stare at my own footsteps and start walking faster now. Out of nowhere appears a silent river on my right. How did I notice it? I don’t know. I stop again and look at the river. It is serene, flowing slowly unlike me-my mind. Maybe I should stop here for a while. What do you say?

I sit on one of the huge flat rocks on the riverside. I slip away a few times before I settle down. I look into the river and see white stones. Smooth round stones. I dig my feet in. Golden anklets against the white marbles, the running water adding luster.

A moment of ecstasy. I smile to myself and look up to the sky with open arms. The sky is getting darker. The clouds seem to follow me forever. In no time falls a drop of rain on my forehead. I close my eyes & imagine the rain that’s going to be.

I open my eyes and here I am in front of a 19-inch desktop in a lonely office on the 25th floor of a commercial tower amid the hustle and bustle of crowded city. Far from what I just imagined.

Do I long to be there you ask? Well no! I don’t! It is only better this way.

Good day!

A Christmas Night

2008-12-21T17:14:00.001+04:00

I have an image about Christmas in my mind. I don’t really know when and how the image had formed so beautifully in my imagination, this because of the fact that I have never celebrated Christmas. I am putting it down here.

It’s snowing outside. Christmas after all! The day before, I had managed to make a snowman in front of my house to greet any passer by. You cannot imagine how beautiful my house is. It’s like a fairy tale cottage. Small yet comfortably big, large windows, a warm fire place, a small kitchen that opens to a huge dining room, a glittering Christmas tree, my library corner, loads of Christmas decorations in green and red, a mini bar and scented candles burning in every corner. I am busy slicing away a delicious looking X-mas cake topped with dry fruits and crispy nuts. I smilingly look at the person on the other side of the hall, singing softly to me while he strikes magic with his guitar strings. I have made a variety of sweets and 4-course feast. I have a secret X-mas gift for him and I am sure he has one for me too. A surprise gift every Christmas knowing to what extent, a surprise, it could be. The house smells of cinnamon and cardamom despite of the scented candles. He assures me it is okay to smell spice on a Christmas day. I non-willingly agree and look out of the window, into the night that promises me a year filled with happiness and love. Everything looks so heavenly and perfect. I am happy. He is happy. We seem to have been enjoying every single moment of that night.

Stop!

This is the image. The best part is that I don’t see further. It’s a moving image though. Everything moves here, but nothing happens further (one other post that is similar to this feeling). Every year when Christmas is close I sit back and think of this image. And let me tell you I have always been cutting cakes. He has always been singing and playing his guitar. The house always smells of cinnamon. The snowman never melted it seems. And the candles have been burning forever. Ah! I have nothing more to say, but a Merry Christmas to you.

I have…

2008-12-10T09:25:00.001+04:00

…elaborate answers for all your intimate questions, but I reply only in countable words, because every answer is a step to understanding every bit of me. Why should I tell you everything about myself? So that you can forget that you were once interested in me?!

Do not steal

2008-11-25T14:30:00.010+04:00

It scares me to put up pictures on my blog from random searches on Google. I definitely don’t want to be caught for plagiarism. Joke! Well, I personally don't think its a good idea to take credit of any photographer’s hard work and why take trouble of taking permission or tagging them when they might not like or want it. So I have decided to write posts that do not need a picture or click pictures that will match my posts.

And sometimes you have to see it through my eyes.

On a rainy day of July,
we chose to take a path that would lead us nowhere.
Perhaps that’s what we wanted….
To be lost in love.

Why do you…

2008-11-18T12:38:00.000+04:00

…always assume that the ‘he’ in my blog is you?

We talk often

2008-10-27T17:00:00.001+04:00

When you talk I only listen.
When I talk only I listen.

We talk often.

That sometimes

2008-10-20T17:12:00.001+04:00

Sometimes I feel it is not a husband that I wanted but a child. That sometimes is when he reminds me of the fact that I am not his mother.

Carpe Diem @ Town Centre

2008-10-07T16:50:00.002+04:00

We are only strangers dining at a common restaurant. Please don't make it so obvious that you are looking at me.

I delete you

2008-10-05T10:14:00.005+04:00

You don’t come here often.
I know.
But when you do, I want to shoo you away.
And sometimes delete too.

And some other times permanently delete.
So then I can never go searching for you in forgotten bins.

Death is going away forever

2008-09-22T09:55:00.003+04:00

I received a call from my sister sometime back. She told me Abhilash, my cousin, is no more. It was an accident. The rest we spoke in silence.

All I can say is I could have written a hundred posts on him to describe our unique relation. But I never did. Why did I wait till this day?

Everyday….

2008-09-15T10:58:00.000+04:00

….I pray to god to give you all what you wish for.
Except me.

Never mine

2008-09-10T09:52:00.002+04:00

He is indeed like his old digital diary. I never could open it.

He never told me the password. I never asked twice.

For once forget....

2008-09-10T09:47:00.003+04:00

Forget that you once spoke...
Forget that you once loved....

I did.
I forgot everything that I once was.

Nothing else matters

2008-09-07T12:30:00.003+04:00

It is natural to love tattoos if you love rock music. But why did you do it? You know how much I like tattoos. And the pain that it comes with. The pain of needles that can ink your flesh deep with fancies of days, which still smelt of my nail paint. The bloody blood-red nail paint.

Now go. Go live the life of a hippie that both of us once so madly wanted to.

You are free, but not me.

Remembering the lyrics of ‘wherever I may roam’.

And the road becomes my bride

I have stripped of all but pride

So in her I do confide

And she keeps me satisfied

Gives me all I need

Not all days

2008-08-24T09:50:00.002+04:00

......are like today. Most days I don’t think of you. I sat under the morning sun to feel the warmth of a hug that I missed. It wasn’t all. I even cooked the breakfast you always loved.

Yet I forgot. Sometime between ironing and packing lunch I forgot the fact that you were there in my life once. I forgot you.

I died today

2008-07-10T12:48:00.004+04:00

‘I cannot live like you. You live like a fish on land' was what you told me once. Long back! Remember?

You were correct. I was indeed a fish that was picked from the waters and dropped on the land. My world was snatched away from me. I was in a new world, beautiful and all that. But I could not breath.

Then you came into my life and gave me a new place to live. You gave me everything. I was happy. I started breathing once again.

But today you should know, I DIED. You left me at the edge of a table, which you knew was half broken already. You told me ‘I will be right back honey’. You lied. You never returned. You forgot perhaps. I don’t know.

That’s when I DIED. Rather that’s when you let me DIE.

Amen.

22 years back....

2008-07-08T13:27:00.005+04:00

.....on the same date as today, she was born.

She asked me to write a post.
And this, in the sweetest way I have ever known.
Just which could make anyone think over-
Was it indeed a post she asked for or was it a kiss?
Need say more?
How could I even deny?
I smile and accept thinking-
Guest role is all you give, but its lead role that I want.
Never mind!

Happy is what I want to make her.
And so here I am writing for her.

“Happy Birthday!”

Two important dates….

2008-07-06T14:28:00.001+04:00

that I deliberately try to forget:

1) My mom’s wedding anniversary
2) My dad’s death anniversary

I confess

2008-07-01T09:57:00.004+04:00

I confess:
I always try to escape,
I do lie.

I confess:
I am never guilty,
I never regret.

Or

I confess:
I always try to escape,
I am never guilty.

I confess:
I do lie,
I never regret.

I know I can never be professional.

Leave me alone

2008-06-29T17:49:00.002+04:00

When you say you want to be lonely,
I know you want to be with me.

Only way

2008-06-25T09:08:00.002+04:00

When every attempt of being close to her heart fails.
Forever!
The last thing you want to be is the locket on her chain.

For you on my birthday

2008-06-22T17:09:00.004+04:00

Birthdays were never special until I met her. I wonder as I write this, doesn’t everyone have a birthday story. Would my story be a boring repeat? Never mind! What else on a day like today? I know it’s going to be hard for you to read. All I can do is make it as short as possible.

I was a simple, serious, boring, workaholic, humble, family loving, and no-dreams kind of person. You get the idea, don’t you? So it was in the summer of 2005 that I first saw her. I fell in love. Not with her, but with her hair, long, black, lustrous, beautiful hair. I was a guy who had no girl friends, no close friends and no love affairs. A lonely guy, I must say. The only girl I knew was the girl I was engaged to, that too for a period of two months. It was an engagement that was never meant to be and so didn’t stay long. Coming back to the longhaired beauty. She had something in her that made my heart beat faster every time I saw her. She had beautiful eyes that did almost always hide her shyness. I fell for her all the more. For the first time ever in my life, I experienced love.

I was quite an unromantic guy and I am sure she would have guessed it well in advance. She suggested we have a formal proposal day. And we did. A disaster! Forget!

Most of the time, we would be busy at work. You won’t believe, but that was the time we exchanged smiles and love glimpses. Her smile! Her lovely eyes! No words can describe it even today.

Love was in the air and we started celebrating all unimportant occasions in our lives. That, most importantly included my birthday. Until then, I had never celebrated my birthdays and had no plans to make it a special day. Why then that year, I had asked her. She made up an angry face, I remember, which immediately made me smile and agree. We left office early on my birthday. She had bought me a cake and I cut it; a little excited and a little puzzled. I hoped it was the right way to cut and the right way to celebrate one’s birthday.

To add to my excitement she had a gift too. An unwrapped one. A gift that I had, then, never thought of; a gift that in return took my soul with her; a gift that I wish I could forget today. And if not today at least for a moment.

Coming Soon-Photoblog

2008-06-17T08:36:00.001+04:00

Why I think I should move into photography?
Because I know the significance of colors.
In pictures.
And in life!

And I ask....

2008-06-10T18:22:00.007+04:00

When you are silent, I can hear a hundred voices in my head repeating 'Hold him tighter or you might just lose him once again'.

And I ask, absentmindedly, with a heart beating faster than before 'How much more?'

Rain, a memory

2008-06-05T11:42:00.013+04:00

I do not remember when or how I became so obsessed with rain. May be some summer vacation trip to Kerala. Yes, I had summer vacations here when its monsoon rain in Kerala.

I am just trying to re collect those moments when I have secretly enjoyed rain. Now why I call it ‘secret’ is because small girls always play with other children and don’t sit alone on the steps and watch rain for long hours.

My ancestral home is a small one. An old one. Really old I must say when everybody else has modified his or her ancestral home my dad never did it. The roof would leak when it rained and I would keep shifting my bed from one place to another in middle of the night. That was when for the first time in my life I saw a choriyan puzhu. A worm, which was black in color and was said, will give an itching sensation if it crawls on your skin. I still don’t know the English name of this cute worm. Not cute by nature, it just looked cute to me.

The mornings would be as beautiful as it could be. The smell was the best I can think of. A mixture of smells; of the dry leaves burning under the coconut trees; of the tired wet earth; of the damp bed sheet clothe; of the first smoke of the day from the traditional stove and of the few jasmines and roses in the front garden. I would lazily walk towards the kitchen and sit on the verandah to brush my teeth. I would go to the pond for a shower after that but would end up sitting on the huge stone fixed on the bank of it, which mema (aunt) uses for washing the clothes. And how could I forget the smell of the freshly extracted, thick coconut oil. Ah! The smell of our culture, I could say proudly. I would carelessly rub them into my hair.

Then the rain follows. I would comb my wet hair in hurry, pat some ponds powder on my face, put a round black color pottu, strike a small line of sandalwood paste above it and rush to the front sitting area of the house. The raindrops falling from the red clay roof tiles by then had made a dotted line on the mud. Birds could be seen sheltering on trees under leaves and quivering away to keep themselves warm and dry. These also include crows that stopped crying when it rained. Everything then remains still in memories. Only the rain and my secrets joys lived.

Maybe it was one of these like days that I first fell in love with rain. Since then I have never been to Kerala during the rainy season, but this year I will be. Hopefully the coming month. I know it has already started pouring there. I can wait no longer. Not any longer.

I hate...

2008-05-25T11:02:00.001+04:00

hate hate it when others take me for granted.

Cancer

2008-05-21T12:10:00.003+04:00

The name derives from Latin, meaning literally, the crab. The ruler of the fourth sign of the zodiac is the Moon, the Crab, its symbol. The glyph is often seen as representing the breasts, indicating the area of the body ruled by Cancer. This is also seen as two crab claws, intertwined in a way which represents the dual nature of the Cancerian personality.

Personal Traits:
The Cancerian character is the most perplexing of the signs. Cancerians can range from the timid, shy, dull and withdrawn to the brilliant, friendly and famous. Cancerians run the entire gamut of human emotion.

Cancerians possess strong paternal and maternal instincts. Fundamentally conservative and home-loving by nature, they appreciate the security of a home-base in which to retire when the stresses of life become too much to bear.

Cancerians have an unemotional demeanor, appearing uncompromising and obstinate. This is the facade they use to mask an insecure nature. Their intimates, however, may see a different character, one with sympathy and sensitivity to others.In their personal relationships they are a mixture of toughness and tenderness. Emotional, romantic and sentimental on one side, and tenaciously possessive and loyal on the other side. Even when they have affairs, their first loyalty is to their partner and family.

They are rather close minded and opinionated. They have a retentive memory, and rarely forgive slights and hurts. With a tendency toward chronic complaining, a Cancerian will never let you forget an error. They are driven by their emotional nature, and, in this respect, can be the best and the worst of friends. The overall nature of Cancerians is deeply emotional. Although private and reserved, they possess sensitivity and sympathy. Rarely will a Cancer stand on pretense. What appears to be a front is nothing more than a protective shell. Within this tough armor often resides an intuitively compassionate individual yearning for a deep exchange of love and understanding.

Positive Traits:
Cancerians are strongly influenced by childhood memories, and have a tendency to live in the past. Cancer is a tenacious, purposeful, energetic, shrewd and intuitive type. Sometimes wise, with a philosophical view on life. They are over-imaginative and prone to be a victim of fantasy. They have a flair for the dramatic, and may possess literary or artistic talent. They tend to absorb their environment and have a talent for mimicry.

Main positive traits: Nurturing, protective, traditional, sensitive, understanding, caring, intuitive, tenacious.

Negative Traits:
The Cancerian can be sulky, devious, moody, and inclined to self-pity. They respond foremost to the urges and dictates of their feelings. One of the interesting contradictions in their nature is that they are prone to a sense of personal inferiority on one hand, and on the other they believe their views, opinions and behavior to be impeccable, and beyond question or criticism. By nature, very giving and selfless, they need to be aware of falling into the role of martyr in certain situations.

Main negative traits: Self pity, moody, clinging, manipulative, overly-emotional, insecure.

Profession:
Their abilities fit them for a range of careers. Always interested in what people are thinking, they have an intuitive sense that makes them good journalists, writers or politicians. They do well in the public sector, and may serve in anything from welfare and nursing to catering.

Their love of good living and comfort is personified in many excellent chefs and housekeepers. Cancer has a penchant for trade or business. Being superior organizers, with a sense of value and economics, they are often successful in industry. The Cancer's love of the past make some of them great history buffs, and others, astute antique and curio collectors. Other suitable vocations are real estate, and the service fields of gardening and caretaking. True to their native element, many Cancers are involved in marine activities.

Well, what more about myself? ;)

The perfect end to it

2008-05-15T18:49:00.007+04:00

He often told me that I think of rain too much. I know. I do. And I also told you how small a world is mine. Living in the desert of deserts on sunniest of days I still miss waking up to a rainy morning. Yet in every drop of water falling from the shower in my bathroom gives me goose bumps. I know this land of dry mornings and humid nights better than you. And I still wish. And I still long.

Remember I once told you, some thoughts to me are like dark clouds that hang around in the sky on the last days of monsoon August. And all what we could do is let go the clouds that were not meant to entertain. I meant thoughts you knew it. Didn’t you?

Well, I could never say because when I told you about how the raindrops would fall down to unite with the earth you switched into deep thinking. Wasn’t it as simple as that? Why do I sound complicated to you? And at times boring because you say you don’t understand such things. You take it on your side and I am left to think more.

Despite this you still crawl into my little world and ask for kisses. I smile to myself thinking of those moments, when you would speak loud till then, only to whisper in my ears ‘give me a kiss’. I let you go but. I would have sounded sillier if I did make you understand. And probably alien too. I wouldn’t want to repeat what I have already told you several times. ‘To me love is more important that kisses. Kisses are expression of deep love and not just lust.’

Standing by the window of my house on that rainy morning I looked out at you and waved you good-bye. I might never say this to you but I have kissed you a hundred times just as how I once whispered to you ‘I love you’.

You were lost looking at me and that’s when you forgot to listen to my heart.

Divine Lust

2008-05-12T17:42:00.002+04:00

‘Touch me only with kisses’ he said

In middle of a familiar forest;
How I lost my way.
How I lost my self.
On the bed made of mushy green leaves
We made love that only the rain witnessed
Every one desired the one I loved
Between perspires I hid my tears
Tears of jealousy
Yet how beautiful I felt
Yet how heavenly!
For having imprisoned him
Within myself
On the banks of the cold river
We lied in darkness
I hid my doubts
For Yumana could be another Gopi
The breeze that monsoon had a musky fragrance
And the warmth of deep breathes
Only the flute remained silent
But the music still played
The symphony of love
The symphony of divine lust

Wanting no more

2008-04-20T11:35:00.002+04:00

I don’t want more memories
That’s why I never let you come.
I have forgiven my yesterdays
I may not be able to my future.

Have I lost interest?

2008-04-07T10:08:00.000+04:00

Will you ever stop blogging? If yes, what would be the reason then?

I am thinking about the same. Let me know!

Record-break accident

2008-03-11T13:47:00.005+04:00

Sheesh! Everyday I travel on this same road up and down.

Look at this-Gulf News Report. Having seen part of it myself I think Khaleej Times gives a better picture.

Kiss me goodnight!

2008-03-10T17:16:00.004+04:00

There were dreams waiting; as the night had just fallen
Only I knew I was gulping pains to carry the womanhood in me.
I lost the dreams for they disappeared after a long wait,
Left with pain and a hope for another night,
I slept dreaming man-made dreams,
And I cannot remember for how long with open eyes

What would you say if you get to read more of these kinda posts which seem not to have a head or a tail?

This was what was happening

2008-03-08T10:46:00.005+04:00

I have been totally out of order for a month now. Ups and downs at office. Well, it has been happening for months and I was only analyzing my faults to compromise for a while. Finally I resigned on 20th of last month. Another 12 days to go and I will be relaxed.

Last year I had written posts on how I got this job and how excited I was. Big company, great opportunity blah…blah…you see. Things were different those days though. The first boss of mine- a cool one in all its meaning, migrated to Canada in the third month of my joining. My bad luck! The next boss of mine- very understanding in all its meaning, resigned 6 months after that. My bad luck! Then the current one-very bitchy in all its meaning, rules the office now showing no signs of quitting.

In between all this, in the month of October came a sweet girl to help me with my work. I was happy that I could train her and leave in mid Feb. All plans went upside down when she resigned on 31st Jan without even a notice. Then I realized I had a thicker skin than hers. Haha!

Anyways all over! Had a bad time seriously! Why would I even bother to write further?

I didn’t have the time to really look out for another job in middle of these. That’s when I was proved how lucky I am. I simply updated my Resume on one busy morning and sent it to a company my friend referred me to. And it worked out, in the first go. I am appointed and will be joining soon.

Hope other formalities go well and I don’t have to see her face again ever in my life.

Dear me,

2008-02-24T17:50:00.002+04:00

What you do too many times becomes a habit. Please be yourself.

Love,
Me

Mid-summer rain

2008-01-30T08:31:00.001+04:00

I knew it without even saying. Smile was a common thing when we are on the phone talking. The rain would not come or go. It would always be there. It always stayed.

“Is it raining there?’

“Yes it is…heavily! Can you hear?”

“Yes I can. I wish…” he liked the soft corners of my silence that particularly came with the incomplete lines.

In the silence minds only whispered:

‘I know it’s sunny there.’

Did you think, but I knew only he could lie to me decently.

He whispers louder than me though:

‘I am all sticky and lying in the bed. It is hot like never before. But you always remind me of rain. A rain that is never there.’

The little whispers and little joys is all what we want.

Another mid-summer Tuesday, 2010.

"Is it raining there?"

"Very much! I am on the terrace all wet."

"I wish….."

We enjoyed it. The silence and the delusion called rain that we shared consciously. Yet the predictability remained the most enjoyed.

My suicide note

2008-01-16T16:20:00.001+04:00

I don’t believe in the word ‘goodbye’ and cannot relate the word ‘end’ to death. So to me the word ‘death’ has no synonym. It was not long before I died that I had written the suicide note. If I remember it was just two days before it all happened. Why I say this is because my suicide notes do not live long. But for the first time it did when I addressed it to him. Have I not told you how I secretly wish to die on a day when it’s raining? Like my birth, let my death be on a rainy day. This I could chose unlike the other.

That day I asked him “do you by any chance feel this is going to be the end of world?’

I heard him laugh honestly as I stared into the raining sky. After a long pause he told me in a rather serious tone “yes, I do feel it sometimes”.

It was little of the answer which left me without a clue to wonder. Let that be. I was only running, distracting myself from thoughts of the ever-tempting death. Was I depressed? Was I foolish? I never knew. I only knew that had I waited for another rainy day it could be a year and even years. Wouldn’t that be late? Rather too late?

What can I leave behind? Memories? A blog? Some photographs? Some cookery books? A collection of body creams? Rotten vegetables in the fridge? Some dirty clothes to wash? Some sandals? What? What in fact will I leave behind? Nothing worth anything. Haha! One last laugh at myself.

I went home that evening called up mom over the phone, cooked him a decent dinner, changed myself to my favorite dress, combed my hair neatly, rubbed some fruit smelling cream on to my body, kissed him goodnight and went to bed in peace. I never woke up then.

Now that I am no more, all I wish to say is that death is not as easy as I thought it would be. And did I think it would be an end to everything?

Just rain and me

2008-01-15T16:19:00.000+04:00

I think somebody up there took my post 'Adieu to you my hopes' way too seriously. I am being gifted with continuous rain. Otherwise how could this be a record rain in UAE?

The last monopoly

2008-01-13T13:35:00.001+04:00

‘Let me win the monopoly and then I shall…’ left there incomplete, he moved away.

Those were the last words I heard from him. What was monopoly? Was it the same game? Or was it what I learned in school in one of those economics classes-‘Monopoly refers to a market situation where there is only one seller’. Or was it anything else that I didn’t know. He left it there, then. Why? What did he mean anyway? What was after ‘then I shall’?

Was winning monopoly more important than me? Was winning monopoly meant to be winning money? Lots and lots of money? Was it why he went to the gambling bar on Saturday nights? But then I never once saw him drunk or a loser. He was always a winner in my eyes. Could it be any less?

Why did you leave me with so many questions to answer myself? Why didn’t you turn back to complete the line you started? Why didn’t you appear again? Jail-Is that where you went?

Why did I stand still and not ask? Why did I let go myself when I saw everything of me go away with him?

It was only a dream. There was nothing more that I could do this morning but to smile to myself thinking of how and why did monopoly remain in my sub-conscious mind?

Who wanted to win? What was monopoly? Was it the game I knew or was it what I once learned in school?

‘Monopoly is a market situation where there is only one seller.’

Adieu to you my hopes

2008-01-08T14:02:00.001+04:00

I often wonder if ‘goodbyes’ were meant to be forever. It is just another easy word to say if you don’t mean it. I never meant it too. And when I wanted to I did never use the word. Goodbye always happened without a second look or a last word to me.

I would count numbers to put off emotions and more often tears. That is nothing but a practice to control temper I know. But see that’s how differently it works out for different people. I was no different though. Tears deceived. Always! I have smiled sensibly when he told me how amazed he was to see my innocence.

He was good at mathematics. Probably is. I was not. I am not. So what? What does mathematics has to do with my innocence, I would ask with all the innocence to spare in me. It wouldn’t take long to see fat crystal drops in my eyes then. As sensitive I was like a new born baby’s transparent skin. Light pink and the green veins underneath it.

Goodbyes! Goodbyes! Goodbyes! I shouldn’t be moving out of the matter. But then that’s how it is isn’t it. We all have a lot to say. And so less of time. Only a life time! ‘Adieu to you my innocence’-Let that be a story for another day.

Three days back I bid goodbye to a hope I have been cherishing for years. A hope for a satisfying downpour. Was that too much to hope? That morning it drizzled temptingly, reminding me of the curse this land would never be free from. There is nothing better to believe anyway. All the deserts in the world the same!

That goodbye short lived. Did I mean it then? Once again it was cloudy early this morning. I felt myself hoping for something more than the usual, knowing a curse is a curse. And more than anything else knowing a belief is a belief, I hoped.

Wake me up when everything ends

2007-12-23T08:34:00.000+04:00

“Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to.”

As always. Right?

“I didn’t mean to do this to you. I was angry at that time.”

As always. Right?

And as always you feel sorry. Right?

But you have to know that all the kisses that you later plant on the black and blues on my body seem like a million apologies to me.

I laugh at apologies. Especially the ones never confessed.

A far away mind

2007-12-15T13:04:00.000+04:00

Windows were closed
A roof always above me
Hidden from what I loved,
I knew I was!
Where are the dark clouds?
‘They are miles away.’
Liar! I want to see.
‘See it through my eyes. Love me.’
I want, I want, I want to see.
‘They are far, far, far away!’

Indeed I was;
Far, far away!

Colder than winter

2007-11-11T18:13:00.000+04:00

Nobody can stop the one who wants to leave. Leave from life? Yes I want to. How can one leave from life? And why is that nobody can stop?

My feet become cold. The tip of my nose even colder. It’s cold. It’s coming. Winter! I love it yet I want to leave.

“You once told me na”

“What?”

“That you wanted to leave.”

“I am ready any day. Even today!”

How easy it was to say, I thought. I wish I could say that. But you know nobody can stop the one who wants to leave. I didn’t stop either. I only stopped my words, my thoughts. Or....I stopped my only words, my only thoughts?

I fear 'any day'. The day ‘leaving’ would happen. The day I will have start talking to myself. Like a mad person. Or maybe the mad person was like how I thought I was going to be.

I want some candles, some chocolates and a young night in the winter.

And then I shall leave.

From all what I thought shall never....

One is always three…

2007-11-07T15:12:00.000+04:00

Sometimes your very own company makes you feel uncomfortable. Especially when you have a soul, a mind and a body. And the ability to make out the same.

Two is a crowd. Forget three!

She and lost..

2007-10-24T15:38:00.000+04:00

'Maybe she wanted to be alone...
Or maybe she didn’t like me anymore...
I never would want to give it a thought..'

Dear You,

Let us forget and forgive...
Others & ourselves respectively...

Love Me

Catching colors…

2007-10-16T08:17:00.000+04:00

Bits of papers and some dark colors on it. Torn! Colors and papers! It was difficult to look for that piece. Every day is a start like this. A new start for an old search. A search for torn pieces of an unknown destiny. Ha! Not just pieces but that piece. Luck may help if I grab few. Right?

And who knows about the colors? Do you? Everything starts so beautiful. Like a new beginning. Like a day! Any day! Even today! But we all know new beginnings have old endings. Like what I told you before. Remember?

And so I stood watching the bits of my paper flying with the wind that was never there. There where I was. Like a dream! Like I am always! Like what I wish to be! Like all what no one could see. In my world there is only that. See there! Can you?

Even the colors where not colors if you could see. Black was red and white was blue for me. A strange grouping of anger & lust. Good on their own. But not together.

It was better to let go I thought then. Let the colors remain only in the same dream where I left it once, wishing never to see it again. But I did. And I know I will.

Like always…

Through those windows....

2007-09-20T13:52:00.000+04:00

it still rains…

The monsoon has been here for long. Too long precisely. When it is raining and cold the minutes are short. Too short precisely.

The table beside my favorite window and my books on it. The lonely cup of tea and some thoughts in their usual disorder. It always makes me feel uneasy. The thoughts in disorder I mean. I moved from one window to the other. The rusted iron bars of the old window left the smell of yesterday on my palms. Those summer vacations of early 90’s, when my world was small and my hair was not long. There are stories but let that be.

What was I looking for indeed? Each window had a different view. And different thoughts. Tiny wild yellow flowers that I saw, I wonder, did they ever have a name? Touch-me-nots, I wonder, did they ever know how good it feels to be touched?

I felt the humid air inside my room. It made my skin moist and my cotton clothe damp. I wanted to free myself. From a lot of things. But forget! For then it was getting worse. Unbroken minutes of breathing one’s own breath over and over again in a closed room of memories. Windows were many. But ........ The very moment I only wished to run into the rainy open sky. Breathe the wet soil & feel the raindrops on my face.

Finally I opened the door and walked out.

There was no rain, no wild yellow flowers, and no touch-me-nots. Why was it there through the windows and not there then? Why did it all look so beautiful through the windows? Why did it pull me out from where I was?

Maybe this was what I was searching for. Vague beauties of my imaginations that never could survive in reality. And will never.

The monsoon yellow flowers that withered away….nameless…forever…

Because...

2007-09-19T08:25:00.000+04:00

I wish I knew what he likes...
Because he likes only what I do not know...

Speak only....

2007-09-11T09:56:00.000+04:00

when it makes a difference...

Chocolaty days & the then emerald desire

2007-09-05T12:23:00.000+04:00

It’s been a year since I have started blogging….
It’s been years since all that happened….

I sat in solitude thinking of that garden. It had a few bamboo chairs which often spoke our secrets to other people, surrounded by wooden fences painted white. Peaches & passion fruits hung everywhere in sight. A wonderful garden which once witnessed our love.

She had beautiful earrings that day, the first that came to my mind when I thought. Emerald drops. Lovely green. Foggy morning. Wet grass carpet. Chirping birds. Two cups of black tea. And the sweet-smelling flowers printed on her frock.

All in a go, in the same order flashed under my closed eyelids.

Lying on our back, we tried to look at the sky. It was indeed a difficult try. The tall trees of Ooty were really tall. And thick. The branches would just not let the sky see us. See her green drops maybe….I didn’t want either!

Did I tell you that she used to make delicious chocolate mousses those days? She still makes it I believe or rather like to, but these days are not those days. Rich, yummy, dark, bitter-sweet mousses. I loved it and she loved making it for me. Time would just flee faster at moments like these…when we smile at each other in understanding of very own silly thoughts.

Happy stomach and happy all at the end we would sleep cuddling.

Like an evergreen dream I thought of it all..

Of those chilly nights that still smelt of roasted cocoa beans in memories.

Californian colitas and….

2007-08-26T17:14:00.000+04:00

........country guitars.

How they dance in the courtyard;
Sweet summer sweat
Some dance to remember
Some dance to forget.

One who has heard it knows how sweet the summer sweat is. Summer sweat! Sweet only in the courtyard. Only when you dance. And only if you dance to forget. Dance to remember and you know the summer is not summer, the sweat is not sweet.

How tempting it is. Isn’t it? The devil’s path. It’s just so tempting like the dancing beauties in courtyard. Pink champagne and ceilings made of mirrors and all that. All, all that.

Fresh, bright, thick, rust smelling blood on the mind. And yummy cuts on the flesh. Melting ice and sultry night. Vacant hotel rooms and cigarette smelling couches. Long canines and soft lips. Mysterious eyes and wet hair. A lot of them. Prayers or whispers? But many!

So very tempting. All, all that. Isn’t it? I would never bother to even check-out.

Would you?

Damned Birth

2007-08-23T08:46:00.000+04:00

A cursed moment. The birth of a soul in the womb. A deliberate try without capsules.

Curses soon change into prayers. Prayers for forgiveness. To the far away Gods in the land of temples and coconut palms. I wonder did ever the two souls know that Hindu gods do not forgive. Flesh & senses enveloped the new born soul. A punishment that couldn’t be stopped. Like fate! Like life! Like everything else we think of!

She paced through 5 months of guilt and 4 months of hatred. Guilt for the mistake and hatred for the gender of the growing foetus.

It was clear that it rained that day, where the Gods celebrated. The day that inexplicable pain clutched her muscles. She cursed once again for the last time.

Following a lengthy attempt to push the pest out of herself, the bloody child fell into a filth called world. All ignored and yet healthy.

It rained heavier there, making the soil sink in contentment. There where celebration was at its peak. Immeasurable happiness that existed in the same soil. Only in that same soil. All lush & welcoming. The Gods too.

I was born!

Blessed by god. Cursed by all.

Tuesday stinginess

2007-08-21T11:26:00.000+04:00

She once asked me why I had been stingy on words. I smiled the very moment. I thought of her face I had never seen. Never means never.

“If all the words were mine.......” There I was! OMG six of my words in one go.

And then I saw an unconvinced look in her eyes. The eyes I had never seen. Never means……never. Ah! They made me smile. Smile the more.

I wish words were mine. I perhaps would have not been stingy then. And maybe then she would have never complained.

People share love. She says. I agree. People easily share lust. She says. I don’t agree. If at all sharing intimate emotions were easy world would have been a place with the no different people.

And so my thoughts come in words. The words I count before giving away. The thoughts I treasure even after giving away. The words I like to think are only mine. I just like to maybe it is not. ‘Maybe’ a word I know will always be mine. For my very own reasons.

But I shall share my words a little more with all who finds little pleasures in my little world.

All a little more......

One out of many

2007-08-18T14:21:00.000+04:00

A mid May rainy day. A big cloud lonely in the dark sky of the morning alone like me, amid unfamiliar relatives. Heavy with tears and heavy with all.

A hazy KSRTC trip on the wet, uneven roads; through the lively cities; through the coldness of time, I traveled with the open window beside me. The tiny buds of jasmine and wet soil. A fragrant combination of temple & home. The half burnt wood in the traditional stove and cry of dirty crows. A common combination of kitchen verandah & the nearby beach. Dreamy thoughts & a constant sprinkle of rain on the face to wake up in middle of the rich teak estates.

Life I wish just halted. A moment I cherished for a very, very long period. Perhaps a long period till today and if tomorrow then till tomorrow and then again.

An equally aching head and back- the bumping last row seats of a red and beige old bus. Remember the roads and the rain? A creamy coffee for the head and two seats to the front for the back. The stop at the stand for a change. A stand that changes many. As many as I could imagine with messy hair, shabby clothes, no snacks, no water, no magazines. Only tired muscles and sleepy eyes.

The never ending highway to Mysore. The start of elevation-the mountains-the destination. Roaring group of young bikes & colorful kerchiefs on head. A thrilling combination of boiling energy & teenage trends.

And so and so…And this and that…and off course a lot of it too...

The journey was never to end for it was a start that I never want to end. And then…

the rain never stopped…

Day or was it night

2007-08-01T14:42:00.000+04:00

For some particular reason that early weekend conversation started at the coffee table in my kitchen. Kitchen is mine for some reason.

Something kept drumming on the air condition that didn’t let me sleep throughout the night. Lazy yet I wanted to find out what was happening outside the four walls of ‘our’ bedroom. Bedroom is not mine for an obvious reason. Neither the moon nor the sun was bright enough to show me the way to my kitchen. A rare time of the day or was it night. I like to see the world outside only through the windows of my kitchen. I was there then.

He walked up to me and demanded a cup of his favorite chocolate drink. It wasn’t late enough for the morning freshens which he was particular. He sat on the table looking at me in wonder.

I stood gazing through the window to some point between the trees on the other side of the road. Yes, there exists a forest – Green belt forest in middle of the desert. It was stormy outside as I could see the trees kissed each other with the rhythm of wind. A dusty, dry, desert wind. I felt the dryness in my eyes, the dust in my hair and the desert in my heart.

“Dreaming are you?”

I wanted to reply to it in many ways. Choosing became difficult and he ran over.

“What are you looking at?”

Knowing how he would react I described what I saw through the window-A silly me.

“And you think you are creative.” (The loving sarcastic he)

No! I think I can speak my thoughts well; I wished I only said that.

“You want the drink hot or cold?” was all I managed.

Worth only it

2007-07-16T16:41:00.001+04:00

All what one could gift his beloved wife was his journal of worthless dreams.

Promise me

2007-07-09T17:06:00.000+04:00

“You will leave me and go. Won’t you?”

He was lying on my lap while I looked into his eyes in silence.

“Promise me you won’t!” He said adamantly like a kid.

I smiled with all my heart and soul.

“Even if I ask you to leave, promise me you won’t even think of leaving me. Let what happen but you will not leave me. Will you?”

“I will never leave you. I promise!” I said with all my heart and soul.

I knew it was a promise to keep. Forever!

I repent today for I should have made him promise that he would never leave me.

Promise me that you will turn back to look at me for once before you leave.

A bridge to memories

2007-07-09T14:18:00.000+04:00

It was the first few days of our marriage. I remember that hot afternoon when we left the windows open of our bedroom, when we only wanted to spend it hugging and loving each other. My head resting on his chest I had told him how much I fancy to travel on a bike.

That evening we went out. He didn’t take me far but I enjoyed it more than anything else.

A ride on a bike with him.
A fascination to hold him proudly with my arms around his waist.
A secret fascination to pass by his ex-love’s house at the end of the street, sitting behind him on a bike and holding him tight.

He fulfilled it with a newly-turned-into-a complete man pride. I thought he could be complete only with my companionship.

It was late enough for darkness to creep. I wanted to enjoy my new excitement for a little longer which made him stop at the near by bridge.

The bridge was also complete. I thought. It had a companion-A river flowing quietly below it.

We stood there holding hands. The bridge shook every time when the cars passed on it. And so did our hands.

“Why does it shake like this?” I asked.

“The bridge is made with little gaps to survive all climates. The gaps make the bridge shake a bit. Don’t worry!”. He said that with the same attitude.

I felt a rare pleasure-the silent river in darkness, the bridge, the island that was brightened up with lights on the opposite side, a unique smell of the land in the winds and the special feeling of love that we had just started to share in every single form possible. It was indeed a memorable feeling.

I wish to cherish the memories of that night today for a reason. Bridges have gaps for a reason.

Our love has to survive for a reason. There are gaps between us for a reason.

A deserted wait

2007-07-09T14:16:00.000+04:00

Waiting is such an annoyance. I hate waiting for something that is universal not to come. I still waited for the rain in the middle of a summer in a sophisticated desert. Just how life has made me wait for ‘the one’ for years of gathering countless emotions, lone in middle of an infinite crowd.

I waited in desperation. Not a drop of it fell on me. Neither love nor rain. The sky had a beauty of sorrow that day.

A wait that I knew would last forever. It was dark all around and I was drenching in middle of the desert.

Drenching only in my own sweat.

Violet reflections

2007-07-04T10:18:00.000+04:00

The voices were clear but not loud for others to hear. I turn a deaf for them. Let the voices remain between themselves. I stood alone leaning onto the fat pillar of the narrow hall watching the girls talk secretly.

‘What does she think of us? Fools?’

‘She is so so greedy for money you see. I think we should not let her into our gang.’

And many more from many voices. I heard them in silence. Not a deaf anymore. I wish I was never a part of that gang. But I was for a reason that I was born a girl.

Weather is always a key to my mood. Consider my mood is based on the weather or vice-versa, I really do not know that myself. Nor did I ever try to discover.

It was perfect like a beautiful evening sans the sun and the moon. It was not really an evening but a late morning. I was in my favorite color. The color which made me smile every time I saw myself on a reflection. Be it on the glass door of principal’s office, in the round mirrors on Nita’s hand bag from Rajasthan, my round steel Tiffin box, in the rear mirror of Priya’s new pink scooty pep and anything that gave my image. It was merely the feeling of my favorite color on me. The fact was I only wanted to see my face bright for the reason it is that color.

“Wake up you girl!” Dreaming or what?”

“Not really. I was just…”

“Oh ya! We all know. Don’t explain the bits of your no-human-will-understand stuffs.”

I smiled in embarrassment. Not embarrassed because no human could understand but because they caught me right.

“The bondas must be ready at the canteen. Come let’s go!”

The bondas that help us kill the extra time we have. It means 5 minutes to gobble up and 1 hour to chit chat. They walked away asking me to come along.

I stood there till they reached the canteen and started signaling me from there to join them.

Wanting no more to pretend a deaf I turned to walk through the corridor looking at my reflection on the glass windows of the classrooms. Ignoring tempting thoughts of hot and spicy potato bondas I walked towards the college library.

Unusual company

2007-06-26T15:29:00.001+04:00

It was unusually a dull day. Not for me but for everyone else. At least for those I could think of. No blue sky, no sunshine, no warmth nothing of a bright day. It was raining. And that is not less than a very beautiful day for me. I was unusually in my furtive mood. Feeling myself. Loving myself.

Rain and a cup of coffee. That’s another ultimate pleasure to me. I wanted a company. Not for a lifetime but for a coffee. He likes chocolate drinks. He only likes and only takes chocolate drinks. Hot milky chocolate drinks.

Sitting on the kitchen table through the windows he looked up; at the sky and then at me.

He took a sip; of the drink and then my love.

I knew he had fallen in love already; with the drink and with the sky.

Finally found the company I was looking for. Not for a coffee but for a lifetime.

The smell of melted chocolate.

White Pillows

2007-06-21T15:27:00.001+04:00

She sat on the corner of the bed resting her head against the wall. Her hair lustrous & thick fell on the white cushion looking amazingly beautiful. Lost in some deep thought she was tapping fingers to an imaginary melody.

Lunch was kept untouched on the table. She sat lonely for some more time listening to her imagination.

“Last time I made him a curry of canned fish, he had it all out of love for me. I think he didn’t want to hurt me. He only said that it was not the right way to be cooked and that it could taste better.” She told me with little miserable attitude.

She wanted to tell him that she had cooked it with much care this time and she was sure that he will love it. I could read her thoughts.

All I told tell her was how to add the right spices in right amount.

One tea spoon of coriander powder
Half a tea spoon of chilli powder
Little of Turmeric
And lots of love.

She waited eagerly for the night to come. For him to come.

It was 10 minutes past 9o’clock. He slept gracefully in the closed room. Had she woked him up the silence of the house would break into a lot of 'No!'s

She didn't. Just like her sleeping emotions of love. The other side of love. The lusty love. She walked around picking the fallen pillows from the floor, putting them back on the bed.

Just a sign of love please. 'No!'. She slept without a smile.

Toe rings, her favorites ones were found under his pillows the next morning.

Under the White Pillows of love...

Bright in darkness

2007-06-21T12:20:00.000+04:00

Last night was a horrible trance. I did not sleep a bit. I waited for the needle to pass 9 on the clock so I could lie on bed and struggle for some sleep.

The room was bright in darkness. Despite the dark blue curtains the street lights did easily pierce through into the room and I could see everything just like in daylight. He was in deep sleep I guess. I heard him mumble through out the night. He moved from his right and left, breathing heavily occasionally. This along with my body ache, shutting down my eyes became impossible for quite a long time. I knew he was not comfortable. I thought it was too cold for him which made me switch off the Air conditioner. After a while he again conveyed some discomfort. I was forced to switch on the cooler again.

I slept off soon after that. All I remember was I woke to feel him beside me. Like a baby he had moved over to me for some warmth- probably. I forgot all my pains-physical and mental. He looked very innocent and it was very difficult for me to believe that he doesn’t love me.

On and off the sleep journey I saw a lot of dreams. I wish life was just another dream.

I wish it was all a dream.

A letter to sister

2007-06-20T08:48:00.000+04:00

Dear Sister,

I wanted to inform you that I was completely sick last day. I had a severe head ache and vomiting. The day before yesterday I did not take any food for dinner and slept off. Yesterday morning I went through all what I thought I would never have to face again. I started having head ache and tried to sleep for a while. But couldn’t sleep and felt that my head was spinning. I called up office to say that I am feeling sick and I cannot work that day. After that I tried to get some sleep lying on the bed turning to my right and my left continuously. Nothing helped till I slept off for an hour or two I do not remember clearly.

My headache was getting serious as I felt I could no more take the pain. Some very odd thoughts started coming to mind. I could see myself in our old home at RAK. I suppose it was a Friday afternoon I was thinking of because Amma was cooking something special and Achan was at home only. It was too hot as I was hopping through the verandah to reach our bedroom from the drawing room. We were all eagerly waiting for the lunch to be served. It was fun and we all had smiles on our faces.

I saw this like a dream to wake up and realize that I was about to die. It was weird but I felt it. The pain in my head was unbearable. I went to my neighbor to tell that I wanted to be taken to the hospital. I was taken to the hospital and given injection and glucose.

Now I am feeling better. I opted not to rest today at home but to work. Resting means sitting at home and thinking of lot many things which would ultimately make me feel all the more sick.

Between Amma is coming this Sunday.

I hope things are fine at your end. I sincerely hope that you are happy and leading a good life with your lovely two kids and your husband.

Yours truly,

Sister

A rare afternoon of a rare winter

2007-06-13T17:16:00.000+04:00

Yes actually! My brains can think better. I can write better eventually. Time is a real factor and energy too. Seriously! I really wish I could engage myself in something I am desperately interested. My interests are a lot but I love to stick to one thing I love to do always. I cannot let go it be whatever my life. Be that the job I do is least of my interest. Be that the field I chose for Bachelors is least of my interest. Be whatever I do and I get is least of my interest but a little part of me dies to see myself doing what I love the most. And I do not wish that this little bit of me lose its self satisfying joy any a time in my life.

‘Stay at home. You don’t need to work.’ And the only positive thought that struck me was books. The books that carry the smell of knowledge. The books that I still wish to read. The choices that all think are weird. Or maybe not all. The bottom less depth of the language. Gasping I would still dive deeper into world of words. I love to catch myself secretly searching for that something philosophical I might want to comprehend over and over again. Secretly only!

The some bit of me I told you about probably is this. A library of ‘weird choices’ I believe that only I love in some corner of my home, a room filled with the smell of books, a lovely dream open in my hands that I would care much not to crumble the pages, a soft couch, a rare afternoon of a rare winter, cloudy sky like my romantic mind and the beautiful drops of rain through the window-the sight and the feel equally special to me.

If ‘Follow your heart’ meant this then my life would be complete.

For once if...

2007-06-07T18:51:00.001+04:00

He loves me passionately. He loves me for what I am not. He plays with his aged dreams to catch the one that equals me. He failed at catching and at matching. They fall hitting hard on the solid ground to break into pieces of what I cannot figure out. Stains of red all over him remind me of the bright colored walls of an imagined room, of an imagined home.

For once if we had thought, there would be none as happy as us for we are the happiest couple with no worries in the world.