Category Archives: Blessings

In Love


Falling in love
So late!
Better late!

Was gravitation responsible
In any way?

It was there all along
Only that they ‘fell’ in it now.
They had been too rigid and smart
To ‘fall’ into that humble, heavenly pit.

Now, being more flexible,
The pit can hold them.
They have mellowed
Comfortably!

So what about their form,
Their identity?
Who cares!

For the time being
They are two jolly good fellows.
That’s all they know,
All they need!

Who needs honesty?


I am obsessed with honesty –
Two-way.
Excuse me if I sound
‘Holier-than-thou’.

It’s a wretched addiction,
An unfair expectation,
And a crazy passion,
An unrequited act.

Should I be so unrelenting?
Need I go mad
When others swerve?

Deeds of dishonesty
Are often left unfurled
Right on my way,
Just for me to see.
It’s a hoax, I fear.

The bull sees red
And goes hysterical!

Why not put an end
To this cruel game?

Let them do it,
But do me a favour –
Make me blind to it!

Not my bed


The weather was cool (or, for me, cold)
The room was comfortable, neat, homely,
The bed was cozy; yet I couldn’t sleep.
Because it was not my bed.

The bedspreads were clean,
The blanket warm, the pillows snugly
Still I couldn’t sleep.

I peevishly felt for the pea.
The bed didn’t fit me!
Or was it vice versa?
I did not belong.
Some force was trying to expel me.

I missed my dent on my dear bed
That knew me and my curves well,
And held me soothingly like a cradle.
This bed didn’t smell familiar,
Someone had been there before me,
I sniffed for a stranger,
It was a disgusting thought.

And oh, I couldn’t sleep!
Like a fish I lay there tossing,
Yearning for my own bed.

What a night! What a nightmare!

Can’t let it go…


“Change can be good but it’s always tough to let go of the past”
― Emily GiffinLove the One You’re With

“Renew, release, let go. Yesterday’s gone. There’s nothing you can do to bring it back. You can’t “should’ve” done something. You can only DO something. Renew yourself. Release that attachment. Today is a new day!”
― Steve MaraboliUnapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience

P1210084 - CopyTime to thank the year for all its tests and lessons (not lessons and tests)!

Invisible roots


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I had no idea
That I had grown
So many
Roots invisible
That supported
Sustained,
Tethered too –
Never letting go,
Smothering, pulling,
Whining, threatening,
Emotionally blackmailing!

Fed up,
I broke off,
Dreaming of new pastures
Unknown nourishment,
And experiences.

Now they haunt me –
The unseen ghosts
Of my Invisible Roots.
They blame me
Entice me
They whisper out loud
‘Come back!’

Some day I must,
And try to reconnect
The severed roots
One by one,

Patiently!

Happy Hormones


 

I feel happy!
(Just feel?)

Happy Hormones
Activated, I sense.

I want them to stay
Prospects are bright.

Cheerful,
Chattering,
Complying,
Consenting,
Condoning,
Cooking ‘successfully’ (!),
Lavishing stars and marks…

Don’t you think
It’s worth it?

But the minute
My HH’s get deactivated,
Keep
*
*
*
*
*

distance.

[Written in June when I was in a real happy mood.]

Who knows what made this unknown person so cheerful that day!

Walk with me


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Let’s walk this way. You and me. The sun will shine bright for us. The shimmering water will add a glitter to our eyes. Take a look at the flowers meant for us. We won’t make them leave their homes for us, but we’ll be there to marvel at the thousand shades and fragrances they have arranged for us. Keep your ears open to the faint soothing music of the foliage and the birds, and your skin ready for the caressing breeze. Be keen – they only serve the most sensitive, you know. Won’t we accept their invitation? After all they are free!

The life – duties, worries, plans, money –  is a light year away. They won’t come to disturb us unless we invite them and lose our minds to them. They make us sick. Consequently we end up fighting. And why should we take along with us resentment and the doubt who had had the last word, instead of the bliss , which is again free?

The sun will soon take leave but there will be the charming night. Thank God the moon is not another star. The pale light is just right for us as we glide down the smooth slopes of sleep reminiscing the blessings of the day that had seeped into us through our senses. Tomorrow is yet another day! 

‘Self propelled flowers’


“Is it possible to become friends with a butterfly?”

“It is if you first become a part of nature. You suppress your presence as a human being, stay very still, and convince yourself that you are a tree or grass or a flower. It takes time, but once the butterfly lets its guard down, you can become friends quite naturally.”
Haruki Murakami

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“Butterflies are self propelled flowers. ”
― R.H. Heinlein

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“A fallen blossom
returning to the bough, I thought —
But no, a butterfly.”
― Arakida Moritake

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“You can only chase a butterfly for so long.”
― Jane Yolen

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“I hate quotations. Tell me what you know.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

How heartless of him! 😀

The Silent Bell


“The bell is not ringing!” This was a frequent complaint during the last two days from the annoyed teachers.

To understand the extent of the problem you need to be a teacher. In a school the absence of bell means a standstill. This is how one teacher reported, “I came prepared for the 40 min class, but even after completing it, together with some activities I concocted just now, it’s not getting over. 40 minutes,  this long? What’s going on?” I looked at the clock and sensed trouble. The bell!

The fed up teachers longed to flee the thoroughly enlightened class; the bored students awaited the next teacher for a different kind of replenishment.

Who was responsible? Who had been ringing the bell all these days? Kaka, a hapless victim of the new laws, used to do it. The bell had been punctual all these years and we never noticed the presence, the effort of a human being behind it. We took his service for granted. Now the person has left, leaving the bell dumb and the whole schedule upset.

*       *      *

The attendant is reminded once again, the bell goes and the each one heaves a sigh of relief.

The situation rings a bell and I recall O. Henry’s The Pendulum:

 Nobody heard the click and rattle of the cog-wheels as the third-floor front of the Frogmore flats buzzed its machinery back into the Order of Things. A band slipped, a spring was touched, the gear was adjusted and the wheels revolve in their old orbit.

I reflect: We miss you Kaka. Grateful to you. May God keep you safe, wherever you are!

[Thank you, Julia, for the inspiration!]

Happy Birthday, Papa!


“Bindu!!!!” Papa’s calling! What went wrong this time? I shuddered each time the furious call rang through the length of our house (such an elongate house indeed). I was not a very naughty child but still there would always be something to rile the precisionist. I had never had the nerve to face up his wrath. (I’ll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.”—Lord Ullin’s Daughter)

That was long, long ago. ‘Time eases all things’. Now he is no longer the Papa I was used to.

Papa and me

Papa and me

Tomorrow he turns 78. Wasn’t it just yesterday that the whole family came together to celebrate his 50th birthday?

Apart from the scary image of an austere father, he possesses a lot of rare qualities I admire – systematic, organised, punctual, and perfect!

At the remotest corners of my memory are two scenes – the way he sharpened our pencils with his special little chisel and covered our books during our school days. It was such a pleasure to watch him meticulously perform those tasks. Now when I sit with the books of my kids or when I seek a knife to sharpen their pencils I find myself mimicking my father.

I used to boast to my friends about my father’s artistic skills. Carpentry being his hobby much of the furniture in the house was his creation. The duties of an accountant never prevented him from pursuing his passion. His workshop housed a perfect collection of tools, machinery and knickknacks, enough to make any professional carpenter green with envy.

The workshop was (it is still there intact) such an amusing place walled with shelves of compact racks. The place contained a world. You name it, you find it. The restricted place which suggested TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED held enough magic for the curiosity cat in me. The minute the ‘Giant’ stepped out of the house the workshop would be all mine, to explore. In spite of the intricacy of the place it was never difficult to locate an item because they were all neatly labelled and arranged. I was pretty well acquainted with the place. But he was shrewd enough to smell the intrusion had a single item been misplaced. Needless to say I was very cautious and mindful whenever I encroached.

He has been a hoarder too. Coming from a house without a sq. cm. of free space I have made up my mind not to be a pack rat. I do collect, but I can get enough nerve up to throw them out too (instead of letting them gather dust), when they start cramming my tiny home. Space is freedom, comfort, relief – I now realize.

He taught himself a lot of skills. That inspired me to pick up a few skills myself. I always tried to learn something he was not so good at – say, drawing, stitching, versification etc. leaving no scope for the critic in him. Rarely did he commend our skills. That’s why when he chose me to press his clothes (after he stopped giving them at the dry cleaner’s) I considered it a token of appreciation from him. Each time it was a test and the smile on his face was my trophy. (On a lighter note: After I left for my higher studies I once asked him who did the job for him. He retorted, ‘As the pennu (maid) who used to do it has left, I have to do it myself these days.’)

Above all he is a wonderful narrator. Even a trivial incident would be woven into a fabulous story with a dramatic introduction, suspense and climax. He knows how to hold his listeners with the spell of story-telling.

Thank you Papa, for what you have taught me to be and not to be.I feel proud when Mummy says ‘she takes after Papa’. I am imperfect in my own ways. And as I grow older I realize we are more or less the replicas of our parents. Let it be so. It’s all in our genes.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Wish you peace, health and strength!