Hand in Hand…

Today, on the last day of the tumultuous year 2016, I offer you my first attempt at poetry. It was inspired from this sketch by my husband..

dreams

TOGETHER

Together we stand hand in hand
Life’s mountains looming dark and high.

HE who united us,
Lights our path,
A path that took root from our hearts.

Traverse it we shall
Hand in hand
Through thorns and rocks and shackles of despair.

For though the world may shun and shame
We each in our hands hold
The biggest benediction that all may behold!

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I write…

monsoon

I write…
Not because I have to but because I do.

Like the dragonflies that flit around me
My soul flits around from place to place.

Like the breeze that weaves its way through the petals of a water lily,
My spirit yearns to wander.

Like the Monsoon clouds pregnant with rain, my heart yearns to sing.
Like that solitary Comorant, my dreams hope to soar.

Like the raindrops that prance about, a thousand pin pricks on the waters of the Vembanad,
My words seek to dance.

Home…

Where one does not just see Nature but
Becomes one with it.

 

When it Rains Memories :)

2995-wallpaper-rain-heavy

The rains have a way with people. Ever noticed it?

I don’t know if it is snuggling together over hot tea in the cold, damp weather or the topic of school day memories that triggered it but teatime at office today was heartwarming 🙂

I’d like to think of it as a bit of both or more frankly, the rains.

As the skies rumble, the day darkens under the heavy, black skies. Huge luscious Raindrops splatter down crooning ballads to the heart.

Sitting at the age old table around which teatimes have been enjoyed for years now, I watch each of my colleagues being wooed into the soothing notes of the rains. Nostalgia stirs awake in each eye. Lips curl into smiles at some distant memory of perhaps fighting with siblings over paper boats in the muddy waters of their homelands.

Somebody mentions the joy of her 3year old son in going to school today as he was excited about getting to wear his brand new pink raincoat.

Dams burst. Nostalgia surges forth from each of those gathered. Childhood tales are shared. 40 year olds become 3 year olds with memories sparkling in their eyes. Laughter ensues. Time flies.

The rains do have a way with coaxing nostalgia out from its slumber doesn’t it…?

Or is that this Season in Kerala with its blend of soothing winds, crooning raindrops and luxuriant green rejuvenates our hearts, awakening the child in us…?

The Monsoons have finally arrived! 🙂

A life of Deaths or Births?

Life is filled with many a death is it not?

The death of a baby when she becomes a toddler. The death of a toddler when she becomes a child. The death of a child when she comes of age and becomes a teen. The death of a teen when she grows up into a maiden. The death of a maiden when she becomes a woman.

Or is it that life is built with many a life..?

Is it that the baby, toddler, child, teenager and lady all together build, a bit at a time the woman or man you were born to be?

32 days ago the unmarried, carefree girl in me died as I stepped into the comforting embrace of matrimony.

I am no longer alone… 🙂

‘I’ has become ‘WE’ in all my thoughts and actions.

My world has a new occupant and I now occupy a new world.

A new home, family, people, experiences, feelings, thoughts, environment…

I took a leap of faith.

(So did my husband for that matter. 😛 )

I am scared. Terrified in fact. I have left behind what had been my biggest comfort zone for the last 24 years.

I now stand with Life looming large over me.

But with each day passing though there is a bit of heaviness in my heart, I feel happy. Safe. Content.

My Man is everything I wished for 🙂

kannadi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When it rains…

The rains took us all by surprise. Wilting under the hottest summer in 40 years, even the promise of rain in the overcast skies failed to kindle hope in our hearts.

4pm. My colleagues and I had just stepped out of our building and were headed towards the mess when the first droplets fell.

Hesitant hope lit up faces.

Within minutes the downpour had started and I ran out to the balcony to soak in the summer rains.

I breathed in the cold, wet breeze ravenously.

The freshness and lush greenery around embraced my spirit as it cavorted carefree in the rains leaving behind a yearning body.

I don’t know if it’s just me but rains have this uncanny habit or rather way of unravelling knots and thoughts.

flower in water

A surge of joy that bursts forth from my being gets stuck in my throat. The smile that had just begun to blossom stops, almost as if my lips had begun to forget how to smile.

My family’s face comes to my mind. The lump in my throat melts. I shed a few silent tears.

Have you ever felt guilt gnaw your innards just after a smile or laugh?

Trust me, you are lucky if you haven’t. It leaves your heart aching like nothing else ever can.

I have had to face that feeling now, and once before when owing to situations beyond my control, my younger brother had to sit at home while I attended school.

This generally happens when you, I guess, do not just ‘understand’ the pain of a loved one but when you ‘feel’ it like you are not a separate human being but one and the same.

I was in 10th Std. An entire year I spent silent, brooding in school despite the fact that I had a round me amazing classmates and an even better class teacher.

The reason was simple. Everytime something made me smile or say burst out laughing, I was reminded of my dear brother who was stuck at home with nothing to do, hurt, frustrated and in pain.

It hurt me like nothing ever had or could. It was that one year that, in many senses, destroyed the relationship I had with my brother. I guess in many senses I was selfish.

And now, yet again I have that feeling haunt my innards. I am unable to be happy knowing full well how I have hurt my loved ones.

Much as I know I should embrace the moment and take life as it comes, deep down it hurts so much that times I get choked.

Whether I chose to stand by my family or with my love, I would be selfish.

Either way I will get judged. Either way I will become the one who causes pain. Either way I will feel pain.

If I were my best friend what advice would I give myself?

“Listen to your heart my girl… Listen to your heart.”

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A Dream Come True…

8:45 in the morning. With barely 30 minutes to go, the seminar hall looks like a disturbed hive.

“Is the tea for our guests ready?”
“Problem. The third mike is not working.”
“Should we put the banner up on the right or the left?”
“Who has gone to get the bouquets?”

The air sizzles with excitement, anxiety and tension.

“It’s 9:00.a.m. girls! 10 minutes to go before Sir turns up!” shouts one of my friends as she rushes in with the bouquets. I turn to Greeshma in desperation, “My ‘Vote of Thanks’, I’m stuck up…”

“Yikes! Did you hear a horn? Is that him?”

Heartbeats get racing as the clock ticks.

Waiting.

“There they are!!!” A girl dashes to the hall to alert the others as a white Ford Fiesta pulls in.

Mr. Sabin Iqbal, Editor, Yentha.com, Ms. Cris Seetha, Chief Reporter, yentha.com, and Mr. Shyam Nath, Reporter, yentha.com, our special guests for the day pour out from the car along with sir. Their warm smiles scrape away a crumb of the tension in our hearts.

They are escorted to the principal’s office and served tea while the last minute touch up is done at the venue.

9:55.a.m. 5 minutes to showtime. Everything is set and everyone is ready. I look around. Excitement and tension jostle for space in each eye.

The programme starts, the guests are welcomed and the presidential address delivered. This is it. What we have all been waiting for. Mr. Sabin Iqbal will now speak to us on the topic, ‘Method In Madness-Blending of Passion and Skill in Writing’.

Our tension broke away in huge chunks when sir started to speak. Extremely free, cheerful and friendly in his approach, we were immediately put at ease. Each word dripped with passion and sincerity as it travelled from his heart to ours digging deeper each time it struck. Every word inspired. The tips and ideas offered were devoured hungrily.

Unfortunately for us, Time was in a hurry. We were forced to wind up the session and break up for tea.

The 15 minutes that followed was filled with the thrilled chatter of a bunch of inspired and overjoyed girls. Excitement ruled every sparkling eye.

Tea done, Cris Seetha, Shyam Nath and Sabin Sir joined us for an interactive session. With the informal seating arrangements and the friendly, cheerful manner of our guests, all of us loosened up and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. Each of the questions and doubts that popped up from amidst the students were cleared enthusiastically. The session proved to be a learning experience for us.

“Why did we get so tense before they came? They are such friendly people. I thought they’d be scary”, said one of our friends as we bade goodbye to our new found acquaintances. For us the programme started with Mr. Sabin Iqbal, Ms. Cris Seetha and Mr. Shyam Nath and ended with Sabin Sir, Cris and Shyam.

The main aspect about our guests that shone brightly was the fact that each of their lives is driven by passion.

Be it the passionate writer in Sabin Sir , the socially committed Cris or Shyam with a nose for news, each of them are passionate about what they pursue in life. I guess that’s what makes life worth living.

Each of us took home memories of a very enriching, entertaining, informative day. A day that has left indelible impressions on our hearts…

We are grateful to our guests for sparing their time for us. But the biggest THANK YOU goes to our teacher, Manu sir for making it happen.

Thank you sir!

(P.S. This post was penned nearly 5 years ago 😛  It’s based on a session the Writer’s Forum functioning in my college hosted.)

When the Eyes Spoke…

(A write up from 2011…)

A fine breezy evening. The light blue sky is furrowed with wispy bands of cottony white clouds. Sweet birdsong punctuates the air. The soft breeze keeps beat with the Tamil film song I hum. Enjoying the pleasant calmness of the evening, I sort the laundry put out to dry. As I fold the dry clothes, I hear an awkward cawing overhead. Startled, my eyes flick up to see a slim black crow.

It stares back at me from its perch on a thin tree branch. Determination glistens in its beadlike eyes. It sits still and watches me. It sees that I mean no harm and swoops down onto the ground 10 feet away from me. It’s found something to eat. Content, it enjoys its meal while casting wary glances my way every five seconds. But something isn’t right.

I look at it again and notice that the bird hops on one leg. In the place of the second is a stump with remnants of what was once a leg.

Imagine the horror and pain the loss of a limb may have caused to the bird. I looked into its eyes again. The eyes spoke,”Time heals.”

Time heals all wounds.

The loss of a loved one, the pain of separation, rocky, rough terrain along the path of life, emotional whirlwinds, physical illnesses…..time heals all. When tragedy strikes, and your world shatters, know that it is not THE END.

Nothing. Nothing marks the end of your world except Death. If you let it, time can heal any injury the vicissitudes of life may inflict on you.

I summon my wandering thoughts back to the present. I look at the crow. Yes. There was unbearable pain and confusion when it lost its leg. But then, as long as you are alive, you have to live. Just as time goes on, so does life.

“Don’t give me that sorry look! It’s my life and I live it my way!”,cawed the crow as it tossed a glance at me before it took off into the vast skies.

Method in Madness- Blending of Passion and Skill in Writing

Nearly 6 years ago during my degree days a session was organised by the Writer Forum under the leadership of Mr. Manu Remakant, my teacher. The guest was Mr. Sabin Iqbal and here are some of the points I jotted down in my little diary back then. I stumbled upon them this morning and figured I’d share them with you.

The session was called- ‘Method in Madness- Blending of Passion and Skill in writing’. Here’s what he had to say…

  • Practice makes perfect
  • Keep a journal
  • Write everyday
  • Never quit no matter what

 

  • Weigh and value each of your words
  • Feel the words
  • Words can make or break a story so be sensitive to language

 

  • Be passionate about your writing
  • Passion is what ignites the power in your words

 

  • Read and Read
  • Observe and experience life
  • Bring in the magic of detail
  • Observe your surroundings
  • Experience life and develop empathy
  • Living out of the box makes your writing more diverse, heartfelt and believable
  • Develop your imagination

 

  • Stay motivated and be willing to grow
  • Set goals for yourself
  • Stay organized
  • A muddy thinker can never write good English

 

  • A happy blend of passion and skill makes an exceptional writer
  • Keep your feet rooted firmly on the ground. Do not let fame or fortune shift your focus.
  • Never write to impress others
  • Never exaggerate beyond a point

 

“Simple writing is the best and most difficult writing”

“Words first become your acquaintances, then friends, then slaves.”