November 28, 2005


7 new posts have been posted today. Being the sweethearts that you all are, kindly grin and read through.

~The Dreamy Dryad~


This post is dedicated to Vinesh for a suggestion he gave long ago to write about my dreams…

Can’t I dream? Is it wrong to dream when you know you will fall? Is it wrong to be so dreamy? Isn’t it nice all the time you let your fancies soaring… touching those star-spangled skies, those cherubic clouds?

It is so nice to leave your body behind and let the soul do a jig in cosmos... Wow... I love those little dreams I weave out of the silken chords of my imagination-wild, fanciful and precious; and those silly ones that invade my sleep. He he… speaking about the silly ones, sample these…

A senior of mine came as a plumber in my dream and was repairing pipes in my terrace and later doing a celebrational dance when he successfully repairs it! And it turns out that he indeed is good at plumbing. I was creeped out!!!

My school principal escorting Rahul Dravid and Sourav Ganguly for flag hoisting during Independence Day(strangely held in an empty desert!!!) while my dear ‘sister and companion’ Nithya and I tail them for a long time. After a while, losing patience, we call out to them only to see actor Naazar and some other guy standing in place of Dravid and Ganguly! Seeing our puzzled and disappointed expressions, Naazar explains-‘Naanga Mask pottuttu irundome!’(we wore their masks!)


My buddy wearing a lungi and lounging in an easy chair like one lazy bum when I gate-crash into his house. Then taking me to his terrace which is full of dried fallen mango leaves. Then I leave my slipper in his house ( dream-layum vida maateengudhu pa indha slipper saga! And incidentally, someone pinched yet another pair of slipper and two other pairs came apart and I got them stitched- one as far away as Thiruvanmiyur and another as near as my next street.) My father and I then travel in a boat from his house and visit a number of temples which have attached stationary and papier shops!

My cousin and I jumping over mountains, caves and monolithic ancient temples to met Madhavan who suddenly gets transported to my cousin’s house and signs on a bed sheet!!!


The entire world has been kidnapped (by heaven knows who!) except for my father, his friend and I. We jump out of the window of the house and everybody’s returning with bags and baggage, Sachin Tendulkar being one o the first to be released. In the end of the line, Rahul Dravid’s waiting with his bike. I hop on. He takes me to a house and Rahul Dravid turns out to be my science teacher’s son!!! :D rotfl!


A guy with a knife following me on the main road! Scary!!!!


My family traveling to China, where I get lost, to be found by actress Sri Devi to be restored to my family! (This dream came twice)


Tushaar Kapoor being my neighbour!!! Lol!

My bestest dream being me on board a wooden boat, out in the ocean with the blue blue blue all around! Nothing else in sight… just blue and I’m all thrilled and gasping with joy! Wow…


I imagined waiting in some place and eating a weird jelly-like sweet before I get to meet Rahul Dravid. Hold your breath…a couple of years later, I DID wait in a similar looking lobby and I ate the EXACT kind of sweet before I met my demi-god, demi-bro idol!!!! Creppy, eh?


And my self-created dreams…
My land of moonbeams
My lonely sojourns to reverie land
My silent stupid silly impossible romantic tales
My dreams of achievement in the future of all my set goals…
He he... When I first learnt that if you repeatedly visualize something, it’s sure to happen in reality.(It works, trust me!), I visualized quite a number of academically oriented stuff- journalism at ACJ, First in XII etc. The first one may happen, who knows what I’ll do after B.Arch (mostly M.Arch only to become a professor but I may revive my journo dreams). Second one sure didn’t happen!!! He he… I can only look at it with a smile. It’s laughable but sweet and childish!

Ah… dreams are such pretty pretty things…like the pale frills on a pale blue frock.
Lovely lovely lovely dreams…


Have you ever felt lonely? So lonely that even when people are around, you can’t feel their company?

Yes… I do over-react. I do exaggerate. I’m someone who fancies a lot but I do mean what I write…this is a very psychotic post, I agree, but I’ve felt it all and no lies here…

So, have you?

To feel so lonely that no one near you can calm you down? To wake up in the nights and though people are sleeping next to you, you are scared… scared of the dark, scared of seclusion… scared of being forgotten.

People seem to move away from you. Everyone’s words seem fake. The world seems alien… an illusionary happiness seems to abound it…always seeming to be present, but never quite! You drown in your mind’s disquiet and maddening thoughts so much, that you feel you are becoming sordid… morbid… psychotic?

You reach out and all around you slap you hard; push you back forcefully till you fall… deep deep into a bottomless gulch from the bowels of which you hear a spine chilling evil laughter.

You try to sleep but can’t till you hug your stuffed toy close to your chest and strangely feel a warmth and comfort in a lifeless object!

You pity yourself for being such a mean, despicable, low, cowardly creature who does not deserve anything but two tight hard slaps across the face.

You hate yourself. You don’t know why. The world seems to be turning away. Everything moves on. You cling on. Hold on. The cloth is wrenched from your hands. You grab that lone loose thread. The fabric falls apart and even the thread of sanity is lost!

You fail miserably in your test on yourself- every way. Everything you do does not satisfy yourself. Life suddenly turns slow, boring, and dull. You have no self-respect. No pride.
You remember your past smiles and tears and lie on in those memories…A ghostly existence in the shadows of yesterdays… the past glory and pain breathes n life… memories…past… past… good old past… bad old past…past… past…never again…nevermore….past…past…past…it’s over, forget it… past… past…let


I’ve always wanted a brother. An elder brother who’d always be around, teasing me, pulling my pigtails, slapping me hard on my back ‘just for the heck of it’ and putting that sturdy arm around me during my grief.

I don’t have a first cousin elder brother also! Hence I adopted (or I was adopted sister) a lot of brothers and they seem to fill almost 75% of that void that’s in my heart… Thanks all of you… Rahul, Murali, Immesh, Arvind, Shayilu, Vishaul, Rajesh…

Being the eldest in the family can be quite a pain. You have to set an example and be all proper and obedient- something which I try earnestly to be, but fail miserably many a time! My wish for a brother grew only then, when I wished for someone older than me in my house. My cousin who lived next street filled the slot of elder sister. SO what I sorely required was an impossibility called elder brother!

My mother remarks that every girl without a brother goes through this ‘I wish I had a brother’ phase which fades in an year or two. Seems to not hold true in my case since I’ve wanted one for the past 7 years… An ardent wish ever since I chanced to buy ‘Doli Sajaa Ke Rakhna’ for being an A.R.Rahman’s work.

Every time ‘Jhoola Baahon ka’ plays, I fight that deep ache in my heart. I LOVE that song. It has always meant something special.
Those lines…

‘Moti hoon main, in aankhon ka…
Phool hoon inke bhaag ka…’

Happen to be one of those I passionately love! Since then I’ve loved Raksha bandhan and Kaarthigai on par with my favourite Deepavali.

Wish I had an elder brother…

I’ve a dream brother and mad me’s written a loving letter to him one raksha bandhan day. I named him Shishir but I call him ‘brother’. Not anna or bhaiyya.

I sorely am in need of his protective shoulder these days. Dunno if it’s just ‘teen trouble’ or some psychotic disorder, but I keep going into these depressions. Feeling all insecure about everything. Scared…shit scared that I hug ‘Bobby a.k.a Hillary’- my life-size stuffed dog (named after two of my favourite characters from Enid Blyton’s classic-Mallory Towers)

Brother… I wish you were real… I see so many parts of you in all my adopted brothers. Just wish that one/all of them were really my own… living with me, knowing me wholly, guiding me and telling me that I’m ‘not such an awful girl after all!’


She sits and picks the little withered flowers- old yet faintly fragrant. Slowly she puts them into the plastic bag along with all those broken trinkets and the rare old gems- almost fading away.

Hesitantly she ties the bag up tightly, as if even a little gap would ruin her precious few. She puts this into another plastic bag and another, and so on till almost twenty bags are used up.

With a frightening shudder, a sigh and a lone passionate tear, she throws it into an unused cupboard to lay forgotten!

A part of her now is wrapped forever in obscurity- dormant, though not killed forever…


She was walking by his side, two steps behind him, observing his steady confident walk and his sturdy build.

He was cutely humming a song- his voice was sweet, clear and strong. ‘Protective’, she thought.

They stopped by a tree with beautiful pink flowers. Pink was her favourite colour and he knew it. She gently kept touching those pink flowers and looking at him expectantly.

‘When are you leaving for cochin?’ he asked
‘Sunday. Why?’
‘And when are you back?’
‘In a week’
‘Hmmm…Will be boring’.
She smiled.
‘I mean… no entertainment. An office tour. Won’t it be boring?’ he corrected himself.

Her smile disappeared slowly and she replied, ‘No. I like my job. It’ll be interesting.’
‘Hmmm… Cool! So, you’ll call right? I’ll be waiting for it,’ he said and smiled.

She smiled. ‘At last the idiot’s getting romantic,’ she thought and said, ‘ duh! I will!’

She continued to caress the flowers, as if waiting for him to pluck one and give it to her.
That instant, as if reading her intention, he plucked that very flower! She shyly smiled to herself.

He looked at the flower and gave it a weird smile and started to pluck one petal after another till just the stem remained.

‘Men…’ she muttered to herself and frowned.

‘You expected me o give it to you, right?’ he queried.
She said nothing.

He plucked a handful of pink flowers, bent on his knees and gavi it to her saying, ‘I love you’.

She smiled…
‘Men…’she remarked and kissed him!

A whip
A slap
A delve with a knife into my heart
Couldn’t have hurt me more
Than that one word from your lips


I’m a leech
Clinging on
To old memories
Broken bangles
Forgotten tangles
Lonely wanderings
Sweet nothings
Sunshiny smiles
Childish wiles
Broken hearts
Their scars and marks
Joyous times
Nonsensical rhymes
Little boats of thoughts
Streams in and out fast
Divine presence
Unknown silence
Lovely gurgling laughter
Lonely desolate after
Holding on to past
As day after day does pass
Can’t let go fast…

[For people like Harish and Vinesh, who never seem to understand my ‘portry n pome’ here goes an explanation…

I’m this clinger to past with its cart-load of memories and objects reminding me of bitter-sweet times. I’m happy and sad about my past being a part of me. I want to let go but I cling and where I have to cling, I let go! And I’m all about my past because that’s what I’m made of- my past and a little dream about my future. Never living in the present. I’m expressing my angst and surprise at this helpless state of mine and smile and sigh at once about it! ]
© Dryad's Peak
Maira Gall