Everyday Writing: Chapter 3

* inspired by Rahman's music, of course!*

Notes in the music
unexpectedly arrive
like a favourite guest,
triggering a smile.

You have heard it before
unaware of this scrawl
rawly etched on to the cornerstone.
part of the path, but hidden-
but for that accidental stumble!

And suddenly it is changed
no more stray visits to the song
every time you play it

you'll know that diversion

unwinding now
at that exact expected second

an endeared stranger
a triumph of familiarity
and soon, a friend.
And next time round,
a new intruder stalls! 

Everyday Writing: Chapter 2

You say a word
I will add another
repeating after yours-
games during childhood.

Playing, we grew up
and called it conversation
when merely a game it was
to pass an idle hour by.

Everyday Writing : Chapter 1

* from today begins 'Everyday Writing'. I want to bring back the habit of writing that I used to passionately engage in and that has subsided quite an alarming bit! Each day will have a theme that I randomly choose. Sometimes themes may overlap. There may be continuations, or each chapter may be isolated. My favourite themes happen to be euphoria and melancholia. But that does not necessarily mean I am in either one of the states. They are a work of fiction. *


Walking by the fringes of one another's life
not knowing
never knowing, sometimes
about the beautiful everyday moments
that surprise us.
Are you not curious?
Don't you miss
the habits we formed
of telling and finding out?

Somedays it seems like just a pause
which shall resume to play
when one of us
on some idle Tuesday afternoon
walk by the tape recorder of conversations
tapping on the talk-
yours and mine-
of fears and longings
thoughts and tenderness.

And somedays it seems like
there can be no sound at all
and that this is the end
to the hopeful beginnings
we flirted around with. 

Existence is a pain, sometimes!

This is that phase in life where I am neurotic, annoying and will keep blogging every excuse I get. For there is nowhere else to rant and no human needs to hear my incessant drivel(no one would want to, either!).

Every little thing is getting on my nerves. And by that I man EVERY LITTLE THING(to use an old phrase of mine- read that in Font size infinity in bold). From the BSNL fellow who has still not managed to provide us a decent modem, to my terrible mood swings, the constant need to cook-clean, cook-clean cook-clean, the rising costs of my existence, living by oneself, not finding comfort food of my liking in this city, lack of filter coffee, the heat, and oh so much more. Where do I even begin?

I probably sound like a wimp who cannot face life's little adversities and is sitting in a corner rocking in fetal position. But no, I am being strong. As strong as my mortal self allows. And I am losing patience with things.

How many times will such icky phases come by in life? And how much more patience do I need to display and keep repeating "this too shall pass"? Why should it pass? Why can't some good things stay? Why can't good things be mine?

Random irritated musings, these. At 26, I thought I'd have a better control at life. It is brilliant that I am doing exactly as I please. But it is not easy. NEVER easy to tread a path that is true to oneself. It is probably easier to cave in than decide to fight for what you believe is right. WHY did I have to be the second type of person, I wonder sometimes.

Is it really worth it- all this struggle, these denials? And what if late in my life I realize I should have stuck to my corporate job however lonely it was getting and just pile up the cash? What if later in my life I sit and regret things said, people left behind? Will it be hard?

Too much philosophizing is not helping either.

Keep me busy, keep me busy, so I don't have to think. Keep me busy, so I don't have to contemplate and torture myself further with the if-onlys and the may-have-beens.

Right now, everyday chores are depressing me and weighing upon my soul. Random internet-waala is causing mood swings. My lack of luck is making me believe I might be jinxed!


I miss being that insanely cheerful the relentless optimist terribly! May there be a time somewhere in the future (hopefully closer than I can think. Right now this point seems like never ever!), where I shall find my rose-tinted glasses again. I want to, you know! I want to believe in things, in magic, in life, in doing the right thing.

Here's to willing, wishing, hoping and praying to find The Dreamy Dryad back!

Summer Rain

*NOTE: despite everything, yesterday when it was drizzling and an eerie wind blew, something in me sparked and wrote this. Maybe the beginning of a story. Or maybe this IS the story* 


It is raining in the middle of the summers. There is a squall that is beating around stray plastic sheets and scrawled and scrunched papers tossed about on the streets. There's something about to happen. Or one wants to believe so when the winds howl about the trees scaring the leaves to a shiver. Something, not unpleasant. "But dramatic", the wind whispers. Grasping on to the fringes of cloth fluttering helplessly on the clothesline, curly hair entangled hopelessly in a mop Smriti lifts her eyes to behold a stranger across the street looking up at her. He crosses the road and rings the bell.

For now

Like the soothing familiarity of a lullaby a mother croons repeatedly to her child as the afternoon's blazing sun puts one into the misery of sweat, slumber and sulking, words I grew up on have helped hold me still. The weather has also been a friend. Kind, patient and knowing. Sending in squalls of dust so I could shut eye and not see. Sending those cool breezes to soothe aching raging headaches and other aches one cannot put to words. And tucking the sun away beneath gray shrouds of clouds.

There is always something to be thankful about they say. Maybe for now, it is just the weather and words.

Home

I have been missing home. South Indianness. The sprawling temple compounds with their temple tanks and puffed rice gulping cat fishes in them. I miss the red bindi-ed poo kaaris and the spitting vegetable waalas.

It hasn't been long since I left home. And I am also doing exactly what I want to do, here in Ahmedabad. Nevertheless, there is a pang of homesickness that has been enveloping me in the past few days.

Old songs, memories from childhood, remembrances of films seen while growing up have been playing in my head over and again.

Maybe I miss the safety net, the cocoon that is home and family. Or maybe it is the realization of how difficult it is to maintain a house, take care of one's own expenses etc that is all coming together to make me realize and thank my stars for the wonderful protected childhood I had.

I wish distances were not so much, once again in my life. This one word called 'distance' has played around with the events of my life far too much to my liking. I really wish home was a wingflap away and I could just take flight instantly for a wee bit.

For now, I shall keep listening to the songs and trusting my memories to create its comfort deep within my heart.

Summer

The summer has arrived with its dry heat, flowering bougainvillea  striking sunsets, water fountains swirling in the lawns and unquenchable thirsts. Part of you wants to leave it all behind and curl up in the coolness of distant lands. The rest of you wants to stay and get familiar with the raging moods of the sun. 

Apr 7

drifting on the sea
little white boats
like my life, afloat.

a temporary anchor
elusive destinations
but hope
a journey
and the promise of possibility

Apr 6

frothing waves
crashing
tirelessly
infinitessimal ocean
and in that drop
my tears

Apr 5: Transience

I trace time
on the rivulets of water
snaking down the pane
pointing, at times
trying to hold
the disappearing drop
from the other side

Apr 4: Hello, Sandman!

Slurred words from the laptop movie

Sprinter crawling in vision

Limbs that speak of soft beds

Eyes that crave to shut

I ignore you, and you seduce me back

How much love do you have for me!?

Sandman, come embrace me now

And sparkle your lovedust into my eyes!

Apr 3: Words

Serve me words for breakfast

soon as I wake up

along with a hot cup of filter coffee

Serve it to me in bed

Maybe they'll make me believe

today has a different story to tell!

Each day pick a new word

piquant, poignant, whoopsidaisies

lyrical, wicked, curt, cross

and let it dictate my path

Maybe they'll make me believe

today has a different story to tell!

Apr 2:

You grasp

And hold on to thin air

And you call it unfair

And listen

To the cacophony of voices

Those threatening noises

And worry how

You could understand the words

That are being told.

Apr 1

Ink stains on hands

highlighting fingerprints,

and hardened skin

browner than the rest.

Now merely 

a tap of keys