storytelling

Green Again

A bit of bright blue sky to sing aloud;  

A pelt of rain to sleep comfortably;
A bit of thunder and lightning to look
And feel brave and happy at times.

The swooping  airshow by the kites;
Caught by the eye and not on the lens,
The evening palettes in hues of blue,
That brings back some thoughts of you.

Like a chorus in a song, you play nonstop,
While I watch the skies and the rain,
Look at the fresh green banyan leaves
Turn wan in the summer sun like me.

The tiny heart-shaped leaves will flicker,
And our hearts will turn green once again.

Two of Cups

Though we may be apart, in a sense we are always together, across all lives, present and future. For this sense of aloneness creeps on you when you stand in the crowds.

You are my other half, my twin flame in this life, for it is with you that my dreams run wild and I weave stories of togetherness in an unreal realm. And, I have become like you in the years that followed.

In a way, when I look back on life, like a traditional Indian bride, I have walked with you around every revolution around the sun, I have stayed loyal to your love and held your name holy like a talisman.

You are my other self, whom I do not know for I have never seen you as you really are, for I was struck blind by your light. Yet I know you were with me in each and every circle round the holy fire and will find you near me in every dream. 

Even when I dream, you are with me and I return to your thoughts time and again just to hold your hand in an unreal realm where rules don't matter and hearts speak only the truth. In another world, in a parallel universe, we celebrate our life of eternal togetherness.

It is destiny that brought us together and again we spend our time chatting away about how life has been during these years of absence. I dream of a life of togetherness again, stargazing or soul gazing or learning more of each other.

And, though apart in real, in every circambulation around the sun, you and I will grow together in wisdom and though our lives will remain apart, you and I will find that this sense of oneness with each other in spirit, that itself is a reason for celebration. 

 

The Story Teller

Life was an open book;
Everyone knew everything
About her life and times,
And she was a storyteller
Creating happy endings
In the worlds to come.

There were adventures
Waiting to be written down.
When the words came to her
She set them in a beautiful script
With happiness, prosperity and love,
For themes in everyday life.

She was blessed with abundance
With music, books and coffee,
And always had anything she wanted
From the deepest desire of her hearts
And the lovestory that she wrote

Always had a good ending. 

#definitions

The Unsent Letters

Dear Sean

Do you remember how you had given me a CD of popular songs and soon they became my favourites as well. It was your way of making people happy that made you a favourite among them.  I was smitten by your charm and what was missing after you were gone was your ways of making one feel special.

The OSTs from popular movies were my favourites- be it Titanic or Armageddon or Robinhood. Our world revolved around discussions about books, films and music. This year, as I am making a playlist memories of our candid chats pop up before me and once again I feel happy to have met you though we lost touch somewhere along the way. This year, I will create a playlist for you so that you will get a chance to listen to my favourites and croon them in your melodious way.

Love

Berry

 

The Unsent Letters

 

 

Dear Sean, 

Just the other day, I heard the song Phir Le Aaya Dil from the movie Barfi on the radio. I was transported to the time when we were head over heels in love with each other. When I think of our days at college, I wonder how naive we were and what a beautiful bond we shared. 
 

For me, you were a refuge from the troubles of this world and your hand held unconditional support in those days. Now, in an era of infinite longing, I am reminded of those good old days of togetherness,whenever I hear this song. 

Love

Berry 

 

Shivsakthi Talks

A lament about lost love: K R Meera's novella Meera Sadhu

Love is like milk, with the passage of time,it sours, splits and becomes poison.

The novel portrays the tragic life of Tulsi torn between duty and love and she chooses to run away with Madhavan instead of marrying her classmate Vinayan. She finds that though she loves Vinayan, she gets carried off her feet by the kind of love that Madhavan gives her.

She runs away with Madhavan on the eve of her wedding though she knows from his own mouth that she is his 27th girlfriend. Soon, she recognises that she does not have a role in his life and the story is a lament about lost love.

Through lyrical passages that describe the desire that Madhavan arouses in Tulsi, the author captures the beauty of love buy equally descriptive are her details about his treachery in love, the countless women that he has relations with. This wounds her and she grieves how she sacrificed her career and her life for the sake of the man she chose to be with in life.

The novel details the transformation of Tulsi from a loving wife to Meera Sadhu grieving her life and serving others in the ghats of Varanasi. The frequent shifts in time cleverly portray her memories about her marital life including the good times and the bad times.

Dear Self

Letters to the Self

Dear Self,

There was a time when you were very naïve, when you did not know how to say no or how to turn down things that were not good for you. You gave more than you should have, often at the cost of your own peace, believing endurance was strength and silence was kindness. However, this led to lessons of suffering and bitterness that you learnt with difficulty.  

Growth came slowly, disguised as discomfort. The lessons you carry today were not easily earned; they were shaped by moments that tested your patience, trust, and resilience. Through bitter experiences and quiet suffering, you began to understand yourself better. What once felt like pain slowly turned into clarity.

With time, you have come a long way. You learned to draw boundaries and discovered the quiet courage in saying no. You now know that protecting your peace is not selfish but necessary. Every “no” you speak has become a gentle “yes” to your own dignity, time, and inner calm.

Perhaps you could have saved your energy and avoided many detours had you learned this earlier. Yet there is a strange comfort in knowing that wisdom arrived when you were finally ready to receive it. Even if learned late, this art of choosing yourself is deeply yours now.

Be gentle with yourself. You are still learning though you have arrived quite late on the scene and you are still in the process of becoming the self that you have always wanted to be.

Love,

Self

 

Journal: Serious and Trivial

The pages of my journal await to record a few thoughts. These could serious, trivial or even a mixture of both just like life. All these rambling thoughts were gathered from the same quixotic heart that has loved to dream, to fly, to win and to keep.

The serious thoughts were all about love and the longing to be with the one you love and the need to make him your heart's anchorage and sacred space, how from a chance acquaintance he grew into my world and how this love is celebrated in an alternate universe of togetherness. 

The trivial thoughts were scribbled on early mornings as a bundle of words in the dream journal as a celebration of the pure delight of being alive, when a burst of fresh air, a bit of bright blue sky or a belief in the goodness of life were more than enough to keep this heart on cloud nine. 

But the best ones are the mixed ones, a little serious and a little trivial about things that celebrate the joy of life that finds room in today's dream journal. 

Song of the Summer

In the rising heat of the season, you dream of the monsoons, the waterbodies that give you comfort and tall glasses of cool and tasty drinks that offer you solace. You read up old lores on how the ancient Indian musician Tansen made rain with his raga Megh Malhar and the power of music to bring about change in nature. And, there you are lost watching a video online of an Indian musician sitting under a banyan tree singing this raga and in ten minutes, it starts raining all of a sudden. 

On the way back from work, you look with longing at the river nearby and long to immerse yourself in its soothing waters till you no longer remember the sizzling heat of summer. In the orchards, you watch how the waterspouts drizzle the plants to prevent them from turning wan. And, you long to play in the water like you did in a long lost childhood near the River Green. 

The fruit heaps on the wayside shop beckon you with their fragrances-guavas, watermelons, lime and mangoes. When you look at these and think of the cool fruit juices that you can make with crushed ice and some mint leaves. Yet, sometimes when no fruits are available, usually resort to your traditional summer drink of buttermilk that you enjoy making at home mixing the right amounts of buttermilk, shallots ginger, curry leaves, jeera powder and salt. And, you wonder how some simple ingredients available at home can create a magical drink that makes you forget the woes of this scorching season. In the lazy evenings, you smear yourself with turmeric and sandalwood in a routine to beat the heat. The sun shows on your face and in the exposed parts of your body way too much and the paste cools you down and helps you sleep better.

In this summer tedium, one longs for the beats of the monsoon,the warm smell of rising earth during the first rain, the lazy mornings when one sleeps in when you don't have to go anywhere and just like that in this between time of twilight, when the lamps are lit for prayer and prayers chanted in the temples, one dreams of home, of being one with you and one longs for the comforts of cool water and refreshing drinks.

#summer

goodies

The Unsent Letters

Plans