In this beautiful world, I have no desire to die,

I wish to live in the midst of men.

In this sunlight, in the flowering forests

In the heart of all living things may I find a place

Incessant is the play of life across the earth

With its perennial waves of union and separation, laughter and tears.

Weaving songs from the sorrow and happiness of man

I wish I might build an immortal realm.

Or failing this, I hope I can claim a seat

Amongst you for as long as I live

Composing songs like flowers that blossom ever afresh

For you to gather in the morning and noon.

Accept these flowers with a smile, and then alas!

Cast them aside as they fade and die.

Rabindranath Tagore

Friday, October 23, 2015

A bad day

I mean everyone has those days when nothing really seems to work. It is hard to get out of bed and when you finally manage to pull yourself together, you find that you are terribly late.
Then you dress down so that you can make up for the time lost but the moment you reach work things go topsy-turvy. Suddenly there is a need for a redirection and you are the one who gets caught always between the cup and the lip.
Then you decide to go to the library and read but om coming back you get struck by the exhibition nearby. You get befuddled by what you see and end up buying a few trinkets. But when you get out it's drizzling heavily and u are caught wishing wipers for your glasses.
Then something strikes you as it rains heavily and you decide to go home. Looks like the entire day should have been spent on bed succumbing to your demons.
But then it turns out to be a really bad day because the auto driver hears some other location and tadang! You are right in front of a very famous school in town and suddenly you realise that you might have to try hard and count to ten not to lose your temper.
Finally when you reach home paying the prize, the first thought is that may be I should have bought a few lacquer bangles from the exhibition. those looked so enticing but then they were sold in dozens and you thought may that's too much.
May be there isn't a day like today when I had to trace back four routes just because the auto driver said he knew a shortcut that never really existed and because of me who should just have stayed at home lazily curled up reading brand new books that smell fresh that have dream worlds postponed to tomorrow.
May be tomorrow might turn out to be a good hair day��

Wednesday, October 14, 2015


You do nothing but sing praises of the sun;
The mighty rays that sweep across everyone.
There are no masks on your face but the truth
The pain of fighting hard for a loyal path.

You see the best that is possible for all of us;
You cry out over the tiniest details in surprise
You sing with the twilights over the sunshine,
Abundant and joyful that has blessed us all.

The taste of perfection in a move of hand,
The model that you emulate, the best life.
Though it has its ups and downs as I can see
May this battle defeat all bittersweet strife.

When the sun rises in its glory once again
Together we will sing the sunshine song.

Monday, October 12, 2015

Aftter the break is over

Who founded the commercial break? Well, earlier it meant that you can hurry, ease your hunger or thirst and run back to your favourite TV show or movie. Now it means that you are exploded with advertisements coming one after the other, some as meaningless as Beckett's Waiting for Godot or some as horrible in their portrayal of reality. Some channels even show a recap of the ongoing movie after each commercial break. Good for the viewer, because you often forget which goddamn movie you were watching till the break came. The same advertisements again and again till you forget not just the storyline, but even the fact that you were watching a movie.

Oh, you might advise me to swap the channel till the commercial break is over. Well, that's an option you can try when you are sitting alone and have the remote and the TV watching space to yourself. A single flip of the remote can bring about wars that can last till the end of the world. For then, the status quo is retained: who wants the remote game, where the fittest survive. Even more, elders are often irritated when youngsters keep on swapping channels tone after the other. But still that does not change the situation most viewers are facing everyday, when they are bombarded with all kinds of illogical advertisements for products they don’t use or need while waiting for that final moment when the movie they were watching and have half-forgotten emerges after the commercial break.

Not that I don’t enjoy advertisements. But still I cant bear watching movies especially in channels that don’t show any recaps. More important than that is the need for having a review for advertisements, something that can change an advertisement based on viewer reviews.

Sacred Space

Dark, dark, dark, scarecrows from past,
May stand in green fields of delight,
Appearing like a witch out of nowhere,
Showing their graceless faces filled with paint,
Casting shadows on our bliss,
Tearing at it with sharp paws and long nails.

When a shadow falls, run, run, run,
Come home before it gets too dark,
And take delight in our sweet talk,
By the hearth, sit in comfort idly,
For the little lamp of hope,
That I put along with our prayers,
Will shine bright, brighter,
Scaring away all shadows,

There are no shadows, my dear
You are at home, beside me,
In our minute but perfect sacred space.

Sunday, August 30, 2015


It is out of years of despair and longing to escape that this heart learnt how to give up a game even before it has really started. When the dance begins, the accumulated scars and lacks hurt and choke; they loom over what this heart really wants.

Yet the dream still remains; to break free, to be one's self and not a definition, to fly out of the mazes created by the self and by others; to run deep into the heavy snow wearing the warmth of your smile around me.

This heart has always been a rogue, vagabond and cheat;  it has evaded its responsibilities and flown away every single time to dwell in imaginary worlds where the too bright sun can longer burn its wings.

But this time, it  needs to have enough cunning to throw pixie dust in every wandering eye, just to hold your hand and ride out on a moonlit night with you.

Thursday, July 09, 2015

The art of living

You were the obsession of my young years; the one who taught me much, with encouraging words; the one who listened to the secrets of this heart; you were the little that I had to give away in a season of silence.

You took time to listen; never saying a word even when you were bored. It was real, I know, your interest was not feigned because your heart was big enough to keep people in.

I was na├»ve pouring out my dreams of being a writer and you said in jest to dedicate my first book to you. When you went away, I was lost, for it was in your absence that I understood that I made a mistake in letting you go.  

You were no love; but a mentor; yet the songs speak otherwise; for in your absence, the heart grieved for you, made you its monarch, mulled over the alchemy of a bond that needed no words. All the songs were a way of coming to terms with a sad reality without you.

Yet you are an epic moment in my evolution; one who taught me an art of living in the moment and holding a mind like an open cup; so much that
I feel that I thank you more for what you were, in an amazing season of silence.

Thursday, July 02, 2015


This is the story that I have always wanted to write, the story of you and me, not just the pain of parting and break-up, but the sunshine and laughter and a few moments that remain clear like the bright blue sky above me on this beautiful day, unusual blue that stands out with little wisps of cotton clouds. What all fears did we hold out in the palm of our hands that when we reached and spoke with our hands held together, the fears spoke aloud and we could not stop the hands from finding and fighting the fears by melting into each other but time came and took it all away and our love was not writ in stars, but only in water, our love was written in only in water. Yet the love that hands founds and the body vaguely remembers could not remain in the sudden tides that took us apart. We wave desperate, deaf and blind, on either shore, having burnt boats and with tears, shout to each other, helpless.

Reading between the lines

You felt strong when he was around; as if you could break down every rule and do whatever you please as long he was with you.

You never saw with what tenderness I had built up a dream adding years for detail across those moments of togetherness, more valuable than anything in this world.

Yet you broke my world, calling a devil of a decision, an Angel and pretended indifference to enforce what you wanted. You valued faith in god and what people thought of you.

You read too much between the lines based on the wreck that you were. But in a way, some of what you understood were misreadings, assumptions of events that never existed.

And I like the fool that I am listen to your words, looking at what might have happened if I had chosen my happiness rather than obedience.

Wednesday, June 24, 2015


You uttered your platitudes and filled this head with more throughout the years. It was as if you wanted love not to flow only in your direction than yourself.

You heard but never understood the muffled tears, the heartbreaks and the disappointments. You never bothered to see what these eyes craved for or what this mind longed for.

I who had modelled your acts of rebellion than your platitudes,see how you have wrecked lives through your emotional tugs of war, ruined any chances of happiness by your fixed rulebook and when it comes back, this boomerang of indifference, your tears at not being to handle a heartbreak surprises me most of all.

Tuesday, June 09, 2015


You and I have melted with the twilight, with the miraculous hues that are gathered in the skies.
You have worn my reds against your blues and found peace in a magical embrace .

In this perfect bond of silence, we have watched the evening star rise and the rest brightening with our kisses. 

On an evening like this with you by my side, I couldn't think of anything more to say than "thank you"!

Thursday, June 04, 2015


You live a life of hope that everything will turn out to be alright while I hold this mixed life with laughter and tears.

Your dreams stand apart like strangers who wait to be introduced while I plod on weary with the little that I have.

But some days when I really make an attempt to listen, I realise that you and I are not that different at all, only two names for the same endless quest for fulfilment.

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Alohari Anandam

“Remember the Frenchman who asked his grandmother at what age we get free from the temptations of love. The old woman said she didn't know” The Doctor’s Dilemma, GB Shaw.
Sarah Joseph’s Alohari Anandam ( Per Capita Happiness) explores the winds of change that perplexes and confuses a Syrian Christian family in Kerala. Published in 2013, the novel deals with controversial themes such as loveless marriages, marriage of senior citizens and lesbianism. Joseph’s characters liberate themselves once the yoke that they carry become too much for them. 

Emma and John Mathai are the senior citizens who decide to get married with the support of the young generation and Paul. The typical reaction to a couple who decides to get married so late- a widower and a spinster- are jokes laden with obscene humour. However, Joseph treats the theme with much sensitivity and her Emma is a lovely bride who rejects all makeup and finery on her wedding day that her niece Ishana has designed for her. 

Ishana is the designer in the family who runs a funeral parlour and a beauty parlour. Joseph satirises the way in which all church rituals have become focused on clothes, jewellery and the aesthetics involved. On the occasion of a baptism, Ishana’s thoughts are entirely on the stone-vessel that she chose for pouring the water. She represents the new generation who sees marriage as a trap set to limit individual freedom. 

The lovers in the novel Paul and Anu carry the burdens of their marriages. Paul is married to Teresa, a lesbian who is forced to marry him. Anu struggles to bear the weight of her loveless marriage with Cherian. When the idealistic Paul meets the dreamer Anu, they feel a strange comfort and are drawn towards the lovelight that they see in each other’s eyes. As Paul says:

“There are people who become happy with the little that they have...both among men and women. Not just that, the majority is like that. They try to unravel the knots of this world. Small achievements make them happy. Small losses hurt them a lot. Their longings for love are of a shallow nature. But there are people who seek themselves in their mates. They need a life of deep love. For them, marriage is a failure, if the lover doesn’t complement their mind, body, intellect and emotions. It is not necessary to have such a relationship within marriage and that’s when you seek another relationship” (Free Translation). 

Joseph's novel Alohari Anandam, celebrates the joy of living and individualism. Through her beautiful and lyrical evocation of the Song of Songs, she recreates love as a Garden of Eden shared by those who want to experience the happiness of being fully alive, emotionally, spiritually and physically. 

Thursday, May 28, 2015


You have always held me back;  with your words, your written and unwritten rules, your opinions on everything, teaching me to lose again and again rather than win.

You have never given me breathing space; instead choked whatever breath I let out, holding me by the neck so much that in your absence, my words were like a fountain.

On days, when you are away, your voice enquire in subtle tones whether I have missed you day or night; and I answer that I have found my sacred space again.

Even the walls don’t hold me back any longer; the sunrises and sunsets looked splendid in the vantage point that I had, of being a demigod in my solitude.

But these days are past now; it’s again time to relearn your rules, your language and your way of thinking; do nothing except what you say; it’s time to go home.