Handpicked

You cherish the Earth's palette: mud's earthy brown, leaves' vibrant emerald, sky's brilliant blue, ocean's soothing aquamarine, and sunset's golden hues. Though you have been buying sarees only for a few years, you are quick to choose drapes that you like. 

Your eyes settle on a saree that captivates you and the motifs tells stories to you. You marvel at how the maiden proclaims her love through blowing the trumpet while the rest of the crowd dance to the tune. You think of your own love and how you basked in his attention in the early days of togetherness. 

You remember the first time when you had worn a saree he had selected. You recall his gaze and how he had looked at you with wonder. Inspired by this memory, I choose a blue drape with neelakurinji motif on it just to bring that same awestruck look on his face. 

Female Icarus

Your soul was a huge flame—blazing bright, leaping toward the sky in its effort to stand for what you truly wanted. You fought for your dreams until the end. But after many ups and downs, your soul grew weary. In the struggle with life, you lost the joy of living, and your spirit began to feel the heavy angst of existence.

When you look back at the years that have passed, you remember that you are like Icarus at heart—always flying above your mazes in your quest for freedom.

There were times when this soul was too silent, too shut away, too withdrawn—unable to find meaning in life. Yet over time, you learned to read the mazes and fly out of them. This dash for freedom began to feel effortless, even natural.

Still, the soul yearns for those yesterdays—when, like Icarus, you escaped the maze and conquered difficult situations with courage rather than caution. You were full of ingenuity and bravery, and though it took time to heal your hurt wings, you eventually dashed into the wild skies once more.

 

Evenings at the Indian Coffee House

In this middle age, I wonder how life has turned out to be, so different from the images that I had when someone asked me to imagine how life will be after ten years. I have always dreamt of you at my side as my life-partner, with two lovely children of ours to greet the days, a comfortable set of old friends to grow old together and a cosy little home that I took time to decorate with curios from the places we visited together as a couple and a huge library of all the books that we used to read. 

But when I reached this milestone all I have is a history of losses- the disappointment of a broken love that almost came to fruition, the years spent trying to pull yourself back together, the indifference of your loved ones, the absence of real friends and the lacks that are spelt so clearly and in bold letters everyday. It has been years since you called anyone a friend as you have only acquiantances and you never offer a shoulder to cry as you used to do before nor ask solace from anyone despite of being miserable and broken. You wear a brave face in the crowds and break down miserably in your solitude as you plod on with your busy everyday life. 

Then in the evenings and weekends you form a bond with your workmate and share the same sense of joy at the aroma of freshly ground coffee and piping hot Masala dosa at your favourite haunt, the old Coffee House in the city. On some busy days, you have to scream to make your companion understand what you are trying to say, all amidst the hustle and bustle of the staff in the old Coffeehouse, full of life. 

Over a period of months, we form a unique bond, minus our histories and sad luggage, looking forward to what is served on the menu only with a common love shared for solitary hangouts be it an evening by the seashore or a quiet swim in the nearby river. Gradually, your sad face attains a brightness of being loved in return without knowing any of your past  wounds and your time is spent in tasting the old brew of hot coffee and eating the same Masala dosas. We write a life of being in the moment -looking forward to our days of favourite comfort food at our favourite hangout.

Dreamtime

 

This is the part of the dreaming earth that you become part of when you sleep or when you reach the ecstasy of creation, the place from where you learn the mysteries of the universe, from this deep slumber where you wake up refreshed and rejuvenated. 

The place where your flow activities take you, where you lose your sense of time and you step into kairos time and return back to chronos time having been part of creative forces. 

The place where your body rests in the rhythms of nature, in the cycles of sun, moon and the transits of the planets and you feel one with life in the universe. Then, this food that you eat and the love that you cherish becomes medicine that feeds your joy of living. 

You learn that all this knowledge shared in the times about this universe is all relative and arbitrary; that you need to learn wisdom from the wise to help you live better and to trust your own intuition so that you can recognise what your heart wants. 

This rest, this break, this act of doing nothing but rest and sleep and restore has been nothing but magic, of trusting in the divine timing of the universe. 

Us

I have a self that knows years of sense and more nonsense. I stand alone in crowds yet walk with you in green fields at the same time. I run in many new paths sitting at my armchair though I never leave my  world but for fresh signs or old paths. 

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. and love was something that naturally followed. You were not with me in the physical sense 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.  

You are my favourite daydream that I return to 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 different circle of life, you and I will win our eternal game of love and may understand each other perfectly well. For us, time and space have never been important concerns for both of us and all that remains is the sense of unconditional love for the self and the other.

The Wanderers

You were a wanderer who left behind your hometown to start a new life, to prove yourself in the eyes of your near and dear ones. I was a dreamer who could listen with wonder to your ramblings and walk with you everywhere, one who could go places without leaving my favourite armchair.  

In the many years of absence from each other, you and I travelled together across many exotic lands. From these wanderings, we have gathered so much of wisdom and have arrived at a place of mutual understanding. I stand alone in crowds yet walk with you in green fields at the same time. I run in many new paths sitting at my armchair though I never leave my  world but for fresh signs or old paths. 

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.  

You are my favourite daydream that I return to 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 different circle of life, you and I will win our eternal game of love.  

In the long years you have been away, I have glimpsed you in many forms but not in real but I still remember your strong belief in sticking to your dreams and nothing else. For me, who have lately started following your footsteps, the world looks new and vistas inviting.  

May be this is not a dream at all but a piece taken out of tattered lives like yours and mine, but when these words come to fruition, it is more achingly perfect than anything else heard, felt or seen. And, together we travel across the blue waters resting in an understanding that goes beyond words with a love that recompenses the eons lost and gone. 

Ode to the Mysore Pak

The days had become miserable, marked by medicines taken in the hope of sleep. Nights passed counting sheep, while the days that followed were clouded by the drowsiness of accumulated sleep debt. I do not know why I had been feeling so low when a simple piece of Mysore pak came to usher a little sweetness into an otherwise dreary life.

It was on an ordinary day of weariness that my neighbour brought over a few sweets to savour—a piece of Mysore pak and a selection of Kerala sweets. Many people prefer the rich, ghee-soaked version of Mysore pak, but I have always liked the dry variety, with its crumbly texture and understated sweetness.

That day, when my spirits had sunk to one of their lowest points, the sweet seemed to possess an unexpected grace. I wanted to savour every bite, allowing its sweetness to linger. The moment became strangely profound. That humble piece of Mysore pak rekindled a joie de vivre that had quietly slipped away over the previous days.

It was, after all, only an ordinary sweet. Yet it possessed the remarkable power to lift the spirit out of its rut and remind me that happiness sometimes arrives in the smallest, most unassuming forms. In a season overshadowed by sleeplessness and fatigue, that simple offering became more than a confection; it became a gentle reminder that life's sweetness often returns when we least expect it.

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

Separation

I became a loser when I had to leave my home of seven years. The very memory brings tears to my eyes. The thought is devastating- I have to go leaving behind my home, my child and my in-laws. The sight of these rooms makes me cry including the floors you have scrubbed and the nooks that your hands cleaned. 

You sigh at the memory of the well-kept kitchen and what I see are the necessities of everyday life—including coffee, sugar and bread.Yet tucked away among these ordinary things are remnants of old emotions: the daily activities of a housewife toiling in the kitchen and scrubbing the floors and kitchen utensils. 

The memories from a dysfunctional family remain strongly etched in the memory and how one hated home in a general sense. In the beginning, married life was bliss but it became a pattern to repeat your dysfunctional family here.

And, you need to leave your home of seven years to go back to the home you disliked as a growing youth. What fills your mind is a sense of disbelief at the loss you have encountered and sadness at losing the home you had created. 

The Monsoons

Memories

Earlier, life was celebrated fully and these cherished moments were captured on the lens. Most of the time, you loved to stand and stare and wander and find joy in the things around you. For you could watch with delight whatever was offered on the wayside and in your wanderings you came across many sights that always caught your eye. 

Every occasion was marked by countless snaps took on the camera and sometimes even our days of togetherness were treasured memories in small pixels. But with the passage of time, on growing older and wiser and lazier, you have changed a lot and you no longer believe in the power of the lens to capture memorable moments. Now, you want to sit still and enjoy the moment, be mindful and present, taking in the whole experience in its entirety. 

The sights that you see around are captured on your mind’s eye as you savour and record each and every sensory detail- the miracle of your child's first cry, the morning sights on the city roads, the sunsets by the beach and the soothing sight of the waves crashing against the shore, the rhythmic way your wayside shopkeeper makes your favourite pani puri and the countless moments that are too good to be caught on the lens. 

I find that there are moments more cherished than all these, like our days of togetherness though not caught on any lens any day. What you and I try to do is to find the magic of togetherness in the everyday life and beauty in the mundane around us. 

You need to wait so that you and I can set forth on our wanderings and find delight in the solace that nature offers. I wish for more days when we can sit idle near the seashore listening to the soothing music of waves thrashing against the shore or wander in the city basking in the morning light. 

Anyway, I would say you are my favourite movie rerun in my mind's eye, with the smallest details and more precious than any captured moments and I would trade everything just to capture your smile on the lens, with you watching the beauty around you.

Anam Cara

Friendship

Soul Food

Making memories:Promise day

I want to spend some time with you and I want to know everything about you. I want to spend all the best days across various seasons with you, wandering this world and learning more of you, what you are like and your likes and dislikes, creating some really good moments together. Someday, I want to look back and think that we were creating memories together.

I want to know close, read each and every look, every smile, learn your language and also what you say without using words. I want to see and remember how your eyes light up in a smile and how my world lights up with your smile and how this world lights up making it a better place to live.

Your fingers touch me and I forget myself and the worries of this world. Your lips kiss mine teaching me the art of love every single day.

It is with this pleasant feeling of being loved that I want to go to sleep at night and it is with the certainty of your arms around me that I want to wake up in the morning. 

The Unsent Letters

Dear Sean,

Do you remember it was in Chingam that we became close to each other and began our life together in the days that followed. Throughout the years, we celebrated the anniversary of our first day of togetherness with great joy. There was happiness in recalling how our story turned out to be a successful love story.

From that first day of togetherness onwards, I have lived with only you as my universe. Though we parted years later and I have become independent as you say, my heart longs to be with you with the same eagerness that was there in our  days of togetherness.

Love
Berry

Celebrations

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 endure.

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. 

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

Secrets

There are no skeletons in the cupboard. There are no secrets carried from the family. What I see instead are the necessities of everyday life—coffee, sugar, bread, and tea. Yet tucked away among these ordinary things are remnants of old emotions: the daily activities of a housewife toiling in the kitchen and scrubbing the floors and kitchen utensils. 

The memories from a dysfunctional family remains-  a few broken loves from the past and memories of a family that once burned with the intensity of an inferno, only to be replaced by another as the years passed. Much of life has been spent in words. Some became precious gems, treasured and preserved through time. Others dissolved into silence, while a few transformed into songs of remembrance that continue to echo through the mind. 

There were moments of passion and upheaval, a purple riot of emotions that ran through the years, bled into experience, and eventually settled into a profound silence of its own making.The days themselves were often ordinary, filled with routine, mistakes, and small absurdities. Yet they were always balanced by the world of imagination. 

In shades of midnight blue, fantasies breathed life into forgotten stories and resurrected memories long buried beneath the weight of passing years. They uncovered dreams that had once been abandoned and revealed how much of the past still lingered beneath the surface.

Looking back now, most secrets have faded away with time. However, there are words that one write once in a while of forgotten loves and memories, of losses, victories and the many wanderings of the hearts among paths that it liked . They remain along with its obsessive thoughts of a single enduring love- you.