October 24, 2011

Off the top of my head-3

There was a moleskin notebook I eyed in the Hyderabad airport the other day! Rs.1360. For film critics. Not that I am one, although I wish to be one someday! I am working towards it. Hopefully. You can never be sure of these things, can you?!

Anyway, about the moleskin notebook. It looked delicious. I wanted it. To cradle it in my arms. To scribble in it meaningful words and, like a kid who's tasting ice cream for the first time and it tingles her mouth- to give that rapture-look!

Soon. I will earn it! 


This time I wanted to learn to fly. Somehow, from when I was in sixth standard, flights fascinated me. They still do. There's something about them; those cottony clouds that I can almost taste!

It would be nice to forget everything earthly and float amongst the clouds. To be in the sky, at dusk, seeing the stars wake up one after the other, expecting a 'pop' sound when they appear! 

To be able to see the world like a scaled model below you and wonder at how small everything looked from above!


They looked like pink swabs of cotton that a girl used to dab off the extra blusher from her cheeks, and threw haphazardly, just before she hurried to meet her love waiting by the stairs. Those clouds...they smelt of the dreams of that girl!

I saw them yesterday when I went for a walk. Clouds, me and my music. A bunch of random songs I often hear. It was twilight. Slowly the pink turned indigo, as deep as the hands of a playful kid who spilt ink all over them!

A lazy wind tossed about. And firecrackers burst without a warning, like a shower of golden sparkles from the sky. Sometimes there were purple stones raining. Maybe, an angel broke her string of pearls.

There was something around that could not be seen. Something like the laughter hidden in the crinkle around the eye. You know it was there. Like an elf it sneaked upon me and made me smile. That moment I didn't care. Mid-song, I lost myself to it!


I borrowed words from him. His name was Michael Ondaatje. He was a writer. I was jealous of him. I hated him. He knew the song of my heart. He split it into a million different pieces. With every piece, he wrote paragraphs. He made books out of it. Every time I read anything he wrote, I feel the pain of a heartbreak. I hate him for knowing me so well. Who told him my secrets?


Sometimes, to be idle is to surrender. To let time bathe you. Allow the world to play its video, as you lounge in the easy chair without a remote. Once in a while you get up as your legs ache with inactivity. But mostly, you sit in the chair and watch. Restless-Lazy. Happy-Sad. Brooding-Calm. In opposites, you slowly let time get the better of you and speed up without giving you a chance.

Whatever you feel, you just don't complain. That was in the old times. Now, you know you can do nothing but wait. And hope someday, that video has you playing the protagonist.


Words are syrupy today. 'Pandemonium' is a cake that has gone crusty on top. 'Myriad' is a cocktail that is green and glistening. 'Chateau' is a cheesy lasagne.

Such like.



Smrithi said...

Read this and loved it!!!
Especially your description of words. You write as one who was known and tasted all the subtleties the English languages had to offer. Not only can I feel pandemonium after reading your paragraph, I can taste it as well. Will definitely check out your blog again.
Came across it by chance in Google.
A very happy new year to you :)

Sandhya Ramachandran said...

Hey Smrithi...

Thank you so much for your wonderful words. I am very touched!

Here's wishing you a memorable new year too! :)

Aditi said...

Such a smooth flow of words. No pretense, no sprinkle of fanciful vocabulary. One just can't not like this piece. I just found your blog and amidst the pile of work,i simply cant stop reading!
Kudos! :)

Sandhya Ramachandran said...

Hi Aditi,

Thank you so much for those sweet words!

Lovely hearing from you.


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