Friday, July 16, 2010

Favourite words


Make your own bible.  Select and collect all the words and sentences that in all your readings have been to you like the blast of the trumpet.Ralph Waldo Emerson
Every reader has certain idiosyncrasies, words that s/he loves to visit time and again. But not every reader is able to gather all the words that opened new vistas and changed the boundaries altogether.

Once upon a time, I had a book of favourite verses, of course handwritten and very valuable. It was given as a gift to a very special person. Now, if I write a collection of inspiring quotes and poems, the starting entries might be the same as in the previous book.

Different kinds of entries might follow marking the growth of a mind during ten years. Some of the entries are already posted in the blog under the tag Inspiring words

Monday, June 14, 2010

English silence


I remember reading a tribute to OV Vijayan in an English daily. It narrated a story about his attempts to write a novel in English. Being an MA in English, it should have been an easy job for him; but once he started writing, he understood that his hand was blocked and that he couldn't write with flow. So he tried his mother-tongue and we have the historical Khasakinte Ithihasam. This anecdote stayed in my memory, because at that time, I was an MA student, eager and enthusiastic to devour whatever literary trivia that came my way. Now, five years later, I find that I'm still enthusiastic about writers and their idiosyncrasies.

Tuesday, April 06, 2010

Home

The metaphysical question popped someday;
When you wondered how a home could crumble,
Tremble and crash without digits on a Richter scale,
Without physical quakes or forces of destruction.

Certainly, it could crumble everyday with a tiff;
Might remain joyless, empty of sunshine and light
By premature deaths that leave eternal chasms,
Or by calamities silently borne with muted tears.

How else could you describe that fleeting security,
A little sunshine and feelings of coziness and comfort,
The cuddling warmth and the elusive happiness
Juxtaposed against violent fights and silences.

It still crumbles everyday with little misunderstandings,
As it has always done since you started all raging fires.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

For Baby



My soul you are; my child,
My baby fluttering inside.

My days are full of longing,
Dreams of being your mom.

You were a dream before;
Now waiting at my door.


What bundle of surprises,
Wisdom, virtues and vices.

What a bond will ours be? 

I wait for time to tell me.

Unborn child, my little one,
Teach me again how to love.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Hibiscus


Saturday, March 20, 2010

Winca Rosa


Thursday, March 18, 2010

Snapshots from my Garden


Home

Home is where your heart goes back time and again, where you want to spend your quality time enjoying the activities that you like. Home i...