Stillness

Sucking into the depths of silence

Tears apart the ravaged still heart

Inactivity of limbs and mind

Leading nowhere, the standstill thoughts

Lamenting the drive of existence

No hunger, desire, love or passion reigns

Elusive is the urge to change

Sickness of this limbo overwhelms..

Silence rules the fragile lifeless existence!

A Part of me..

Listening to the sound of water, not the clatter of the waterfall or the periodic roaring of the waves in the outer sea.. but the rhythmic drop by drop melody of the leaking water tap reminds me the solitary thoughts that ran away resembling the leaking tap, I collected it in a colorless vase and the water is clear.. yet gone waste.. just like the forgotten chronicles.. Why this boasting? Am I and my scribbling that worthy? Indeed it is at least for me the protagonist of my life.

This manifesto of mine are not just abstract thoughts, they are a testimony of my life too.. “A part of me..” resides in here in each of my writings, that is why this collection of fiction is categorized to be PERSONAL . Is my life and daily events captured here, not exactly but a part of this vainglorious spirit is strewn apiece… the thoughts, the mood, the view, the emotion, the life too, but never fully, as I love to see the excitement of a child to peek into someone’s half wrapped gift. Judge me if you want, but never trespass my life..

I am getting addicted to this strange friendship formed between many faceless thoughts arising from different heads like yours and mine.. lets share it but not judge.. 

When a friend with anxiety enquired about my well being in life the reason was my writings, the melancholy in them, the darkness in them.. even when I felt elated about the care, it concerned me.. Life is dark there is no clear demarcation of Black and white people there are shades of grey in every one, some know It, some doesn’t seek in.. to know it.. So why should I write a fairy tale? When world is not exactly one? After all love and happiness is not just life, there is Shadow and Jealousy why shouldn’t we scribble when we are sensible enough to feel it?

An object’s beauty is in the eyes of the admirer, so let my hands engrave.. let my thoughts enjoy the newly found freedom.. let me chuckle when some one else’s eyes sees it in the same way..  Let the part of me that loves to fly away.. fly as needed.. why confine..

Between borders

Confined within the dark recess

Enchained with brittle coirs

Thrives the fragile and delicate soul

Obscured to naked eyes

Looks gay to a bystander

The Fiery scorching and

Turbulence felt only at deep end

By the one betwixt

Tranquility greets from across

Myriad pleasures the heart seeks harder

Verdict never in thy hands

Benumbed thy suffers in dark domains

Bogus serenity shoulders apathy

And life swarms as in an illusion

With joy, peace and belonging

Endured just as chimera

P.S. This picture was taken by a friend and it inspired me to write the above poetry (if it can be called so..) Looking at the flower and the fence, I imagined the borders in peoples life, the mind, the physical borders the fences.. (India.. Pakistan the state of Kashmir..) and so on...

The Train

Giggling out loud and chattering like bunch of hungry birds, Mithra and Pauline boarded the train in a rainy evening on their way back home. They had a long way to go almost every day, out of which Mithra traveled more, the loneliness was overwhelming that she always clung on to Pauline who would be there to accompany at least for an hour, after which she would travel alone for half more hour until she would reach home tired and weary. They had nothing serious to chat, the topics were common and redundant, yet the girls enjoyed their journey back home every day.

Mithra was cursing her colleagues quite out loud when Pauline nudged her. Mithra panicked and looked around, to see no recognizable faces from office, except those familiar frames that she sees every day in train and never bothered to move up a level from a smile and a nod.  She looked questioningly at Pauline who was intensely eves dropping conversation of two ladies nearby. Mithra pinched her, she shushed back and listened more.

Jealousy

Brimming with swelling fury 

Aching enough to twist love to acrimony

Despised overtly by all and sundry

Even by those who cleverly mask

Bitter is the persistent sensation

Hoisting high upon slightest provocation

Unhealed wounds deeply inside

Wishing just to harm every one

Reveals vulnerability on pondering

Just a basic craving for love and care

Expression of feeling made abundant

Yet left unattended and unheeded

The Writer

Today’s headlines:
“A Mediocre writer’s wife, jumps into the list of most celebrated writers, with her first gripping fiction”

Before 5 years..
He was a fiction writer, one who writes for a living, most of his works were novels or collection of short stories and were just mediocre hits. But the royalty and his fixed deposit interest money that he received every month were more than enough to carry on with life. They were married for 5 years, and she still thanked her deceased father for the fixed deposit, what would have happened to her life if that dowry money was not converted to FD was still a nightmare.


However, she was a beloved wife in all the aspects. She never complained out loud, and was always by his side to soothe him whenever his books sank in the market. He on the other hand, was a loving husband, and thankful to her by heart for the support, but that made him disappointed with his life. He was a brilliant student and as he graduated with flying colours his sole aim was to become a great writer, nothing clicked and he ended up becoming a mediocre writer. He wanted to burst out the bubble, and prove to the world of his talent.

Yet another Onam

Ona Sadhya

Another year and another Onam.. yet my question is unanswered...!


Being a mallu, Onam is one of my favorite festival, as a kid that was another excuse to take leave from school with parents readily accepting it (it was not a state announced holiday back then in Chennai), eating on banana leaves, wearing new dressed, best payasam by my mom..! who wouldn't love it..


The best part was that I was in charge of the outer decorations and I enjoyed putting my flower kolams in front of the house to welcome Mahabali.. every year it was the same, mom cooking, me decorating and then we invite many of our neighbours and my class mates for ona sadhya.. only once I celebrated Onam with all my cousins and relatives, it was for a cousins wedding.. the fun and enjoyment was amazing! otherwise it is just our family with our neighbours in Chennai, that is fun too! Holidays in Chennai and Kerala doesn't sync..


Ok so why is onam celebrated..


Long long ago.. there lived a good king descended from the asuras (Demon) called Mahabali.. he was ruling Kerala peacefully, but the king of heaven Indra for some technical reason (peer pressure i guess) didn't like him, and pleaded to Lord Vishu to eradicate the demon king.. Though Mahabali king was a good fellow, Lord had to do it to wipe out the world off evil people.. back then line was visible between black and white and no grey existed..!
So lord (in the form of a dwarf -Vamana) sent Mahabali to hell, however a boon was given that every year, he can come and visit his people on the Onam day!! so the sadhya (feast) and the floral decorations were to welcome the hypothetical arrival of the king..!


Now what is my question? for that I have to describe another myth.. its about how Kerala was created. parasurama was another form or avatar of Lord Vishnu and as the myth goes as he threw his mighty axe to the Arabian Sea, the land called Kerala emerged..


ok here comes my question, If Kerala was created by Parasuram the 6th Avatar of the Lord, how did Mahabali rule the state during the time of Vamana the 5th avatar?


Ps: I am not mocking any of my culture here, it is indeed a serious doubt that exist in my mind for so long Any way what ever the reason may be it is the day to celebrate a state ruled by a very good and democratic dictator.. where as what we witness now a days is the vise versa..


PS: Please read An answer for, I got my answer!!




Oops I forgot HAPPY ONAM! :)

With my cousins..

My Awkward Moments Part 3

 How embarrassing is to forget some one’s name or face, or being unable to correlate and match the name and face up?
I was lucky or unlucky enough to be in both the giving and receiving end of the problem and surely it was one big awkward moment, one thing is though the brain works like search engine to match up the face and find the name.. or vise versa, my face would give away, by a blank expression. I know I am very innocent! lol

Hailing from a big family, and visiting them only during school year end vacations, I was not pretty sure of many relatives, and when I go to some marriages with my mom, I see aunties and uncles asking me if I remember them.. at times I give a blank sheepish idiotic smile and nod no, but they later told my parents that it was offensive to not remember your close relatives (I don’t know how my fathers uncles, wife’s brothers mother Phew! Becomes close Kin.. I am still not so familiar with the once removed or twice removed cousins either..)

So, I took in another approach, when they ask me, I would smile a lot, and say “how could I not know you anuty?” that did get me some so cutes’!

He Wanders

 

As an ubiquitous figure

He wanders hither and thither

On the fields, along the roads

Wherever his mind goads

Disgusted with life as lived

He walks bare and half naked

Not showing off in fineries

He is robed just enough to conceal

Covered in dirt and dusty grime

He eats to live regardless of time

Sky above and earth below as hovel

He cares not on the place to dwell

Is life’s essence cracked after all

By this roaming seeker?

Is there eminence in

the crazy lunatic snigger?

PS: I saw a very old man, supposed to be homeless on the streets, his face showed wisdom and clarity, that was missing in his appearance, I tried to decipher his thoughts and I humbly dedicate this to him, my dear old man wandering in the streets...