Word addiction

I think during my childhood and growing years, I have had this strange habit of reading while having food. It was an interesting habit especially of savouring the food and the words at the same time. At times, this was a way of getting past the reality of bland food during Lent times. Staying vegetarian for around fifty-six long days was unbearable in childhood though one had to do it out of obedience. However, on growing up, this religious habit of staying away from non-vegetarian food became completely out of fashion.

Even in my twenties, I would reach out for pickle jars on the dining table just for reading the print so that I keep myself occupied while eating. It's not that I don't know what's in the pickle; I guess it's a habit or rather an addiction to printed words. This might extend to the information on creams, food products, cleaning solutions, toothpastes and so on. There are some curious instances where one might encounter an error and burst out laughing just like when I read the label on a face cleanser: Apply on a cotton pad every morning. Or boards on the road like the one for the Dry-Cleaning Shop that reads Dying, Cleaning and others. 

Then there are some days of reading spree, when one might abandon connections with the external world so that one might step into the magical world of books. After buying a kindle reader in 2017, this habit of reading has become so addictive as one can read whenever you want whatever you want. One looks with pride at the verbal worlds explored and the journeys made, all sitting at your favourite armchair.

This act of stepping into the unknown can bring unexpected delights, such as feeling the touch of earth on your feet, remembering the feel of how the bark of a tree or your lover's limbs felt like on your soft hands or relishing the game of lovemaking with the one you love. It might bring unexpected delights from nature such as the pleasant full moonlight night or cascades of flowing water or the fresh life-giving air of verdant canopies. But the memory of a world full of adventure that you read in a book beckons you  to a world similar to the one  Lucy stepped into right from her wardrobe. 

Summer Rains

In the rising heat of April, 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 sorbets 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 you prepare for your nightly sleep, though you might have to get up and pour water on yourself twice or thrice in the night to do so. 

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. My heart reaches for you in these eons of absence with a longing that I have never known before when I remember how during twilight, we would enjoy our moments of togetherness. Like one longs for rain in this summer tedium, I long for our days of togetherness. 

You remember rain- the sudden outburst, the sound of pitter-patter beating against the tin roof, the occasional thunderbolts, the celebration of earth brimming with life and trees bedecked with jewels like brides. And, after the furnace-hot afternoons to nights of restlessness, it rains and you step right into the rain humming the rain raga. This sudden downpour makes you dream of your love and get goosebumps on your skin when you remember your first walk in the rain with him. He comes in your midnight dreams with unspoken desires and emotions that still have to find a way to form into words. 

Yet, we were never meant to be together in life, for we came from two different worlds of understanding and never really spoke the same language. What is left of a beautiful summer love are some lovely memories and so many million words written in absence scattered across the yearly journals. Though you are not mine to own, you are the first one whom I called mine and you have walked with me everywhere ever since. And, in every round around the fire that I dreamt of, yours was the hand I held and you were there in every dream speaking the language of the heart even in the wordless silences. 

Yet, though lost, the memory of this young love can give an understanding about how this love would remain a window to the beauty of this world, like a chocolate bar that you savour alone too good to share it with others. And, you remember how you learnt the secrets of this life through an infinite longing to be with your love and how the same life spirit that runs through all beings gives you an understanding that there is no distance, no separation, no barrier between you and the one you love till the end of time. And, this summer tedium of absence may dampen your spirits and may last every lifetime you are born, you get a sense of recompense from remembering that this lost love is the most perfect thing that ever happened in your otherwise uneventful life. 

Ode to the Uppumanga

Ode to the Uppumanga

From my memories of summer vacations spent near the River Green, what stands out is a special dish made by my grandmother when we paid her a surprise visit. We did not inform her of our coming beforehand and she did not have time to prepare anything special. So, she took out some mangoes in brine from her big bharani and mixed it with ground coconut to make the tastiest mango curry I have eaten. After lunch, I remember eating brined mango slices to my heart's content. 

When I was pregnant, I was homesick and I craved for my favourite foods from home, the mezhukkupurattis, moru, puttu, idiyyapam, motta kuzhalappam, kadumanga and uppumanga. Being away from my family, it was not possible to get a taste of even the quick-fix dishes that my mother made. I even had a flashback of uluvamanga that my grandmother used to make during Lent. My husband's family, though Malayalis were brought up in Andamans,  where they had this habit of eating mostly chappathis and North Indian curries and this made me feel completely out of place. 

And, though I have seen most of the traditional Kerala dishes, I did not have practice making many of them. Then, one fine day, I decided to make some puttu and it was successful. Then, idiyappam and motta kuzhalappam tasted good. I still craved for uppumanga and instant mango pickle that my mother used to make. When coming back from work, I bought some raw mangoes and went straight to the kitchen. Then, in a flash of inspiration, I made the instant pickle mixing all the ingredients like my mother does and the result was a pleasant smell that came from the kitchen and my happy heart to have satisfied one pregnancy craving. I remembered this when I tasted some really tasty mango pickle yesterday that made me have a foodgasm.

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.

Anam Cara

Sometimes, the answer comes late for some seekers. The lonely roads may wear you out; the skies might turn bleak and hostile; the days might spent without ever having a soul to breathe your worries to. 

There is always this desire, the need for warmth, for compassion, for meaningless chatter and meaningful silences yet the road is quite lonely. 

Much later at a turnstile, you might meet a traveller in whose eyes you might see eternity, in whose warmth all your wanderlust might be kindled again, in whose extended hand you might see a soul connection. 

There might be others who have gone ahead and reached their destinations long ago but your blessing is that you value the wisdom taught by the lonely roads, the weary feet and the warmth of your long-desired for companion. 

Photo Courtesy: flickr.com

You and Me

What brought you back to my mind, I do not know
But I do not like the surges of tears that rise,
That still rise though it’s been so many years
Since we walked away from our future happiness.

Words, reasons, explanations I cannot find at all,
But the heart wants to scrawl a few more words,
In that curious hieroglyphic that we had invented,
To encode a secret message just for your eyes.

But then the years have made us so apart
For so long that I do not know you anymore,
Nor the heart’s language or its silences,
Even my own self I hardly recognise anymore.

You have a mirror to look in; so do I have,
What we’ve is more than what could have been

Word Addiction

I think during my childhood and growing years, I have had this strange habit of reading while having food. It was an interesting habit especially of savouring the food and the words at the same time. At times, this was a way of getting past the reality of bland food during Lent times. Staying vegetarian for around fifty-six long days was unbearable in childhood though one had to do it out of obedience. However, on growing up, this religious habit of staying away from non-vegetarian food became completely out of fashion.

Even in my twenties, I would reach out for pickle jars on the dining table just for reading the print so that I keep myself occupied while eating. It's not that I don't know what's in the pickle; I guess it's a habit or rather an addiction to printed words. This might extend to the information on creams, food products, cleaning solutions, toothpastes and so on. There are some curious instances where one might encounter an error and burst out laughing just like when I read the label on a face cleanser: Apply on a cotton pad every morning. Or boards on the road like the one for the Dry-Cleaning Shop that reads Dying, Cleaning and others. 

Then there are some days of reading spree, when one might abandon connections with the external world so that one might step into the magical world of books. After buying a kindle reader in 2017, this habit of reading spree has become so addictive as one can read whenever you want whatever you want. One looks with pride at the verbal worlds explored and the journeys made, all sitting at your favourite armchair.

This act of stepping into the unknown can bring unexpected delights, such as feeling the touch of earth on your feet, remembering the feel of how the bark of a tree or your lover's limbs felt like on your soft hands or relishing the game of lovemaking with the one you love. It might bring unexpected delights from nature such as the pleasant full moonlight night or cascades of flowing water or the fresh life-giving air of verdant canopies. But the memory of a world full of adventure that you read in a book beckons you  to a world similar to the one  Lucy stepped into right from her wardrobe. 

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. 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. 

Togetherness

It was good to see them together after their scars faded away. It was forever, she thought when she had etched his name on her heart, the palms of her hands in a mehndi design or on every scrap of paper that she came across. 

Destiny said otherwise and the one that smiled with love at her was even more smitten. In the meantime, this first love was forgotten. But after a lapse of a few years,  look at their chemistry, it looks magical, like out of a dream. 

In her eyes that look up to him, in his smile slightly older but contented, in their perfect blend together, there is this miracle that after a battle of egos, the magic that makes a breakup look unreal. 

Soul Friend

This heart has been a wanderer who loves to ramble and find ways where none existed before. It never understands the wisdom of other’s words nor can it choose anything other than what it wants for itself. Sometimes, it creates raging fires in places where a soft little word would have done.

Not that there were no mazes in the olden days. There were many that it burnt down or flew past, though not with a victorious smile or swelling pride but with quiet equanimity; it didn’t have much left behind to boast of.

For years, it has searched for beauty in all places- in the serenity of nature, in the spontaneity of a child’s smile, or in the most beautiful thoughts where it has always dwelt. It has often wandered in the serenest places on earth, where it took in with amazement, the feeling of being so minute in a huge beautiful world. Sometimes, it has wandered alone, partly to its dismay and partly to create a pride in solitude. There were also times, when in another wanderer’s eyes, it read solace, warmth and strange delight.

A new strength came from a kindred spirit in whose eyes, the world was made anew or paths made merrier with zesty songs and bright sunshine. With a soulmate, an anam cara, it has often dreamt of wandering again through the same mazes differently.Though there might be new invites from around, the cascading waterfalls, the beautiful mountain-tops, the endless beaches or beautiful fields of green delight, it needs a soul friend to listen to its endless amazement.

Though there might not be many words and many hurdles to jump over, this heart still wants to watch the stars fade away all along with its soul companion.Often it dreams of flights across all its mazes just to find solace in the comfort of a friend and at times, it feels that the time has passed and the magic gone. Despite of constant mistakes while wandering, it seeks within itself an answer, to wait patiently for its dream to come back again.

May be this heart would hum a new song or dance a new dance, a never-seen wonder of rejoice when it comes home, all safe in the arms of its soul friend. Till that day, this wanderer searches on weary faces a semblance of its dream, feels down when it finds nothing familiar and ends every journey with heavy feet and grim thoughts. Yet, with a spring of delight, it waits on every corner to see what surprise life holds in its sudden trips and turns, turning a deaf ear to the noises that are around it the whole time. 

Wanderlust

For a heart like this full of love for wandering in the serenest places on earth, each and every picture of natural beauty is an invite. The cascading waterfalls that astonish, the beautiful mountain-tops, the endless beaches and patches of green everywhere.

May be on a day like this, looking at this beautiful earth, I may not write a word but only sigh and think; for what to write about a work of art that is more beautiful than any word can describe. Yet I sit at home and dream of visiting all these wonderlands after looking at their pictures.

It might happen that one fine day, I will be able to wander as long as I please and as far as I please. But right now, the travels occur in dreams that carry me to these imagined places of delight.

Deja Vu

I don't think I have been to this place before but as I look around I get a feeling of deja vu. The blue waters and the houseboats look a very familiar sight, a place I might have been to many times.

May be if I stayed around, the waves might tell me from whose dreams I stole you, through whose heart I heard the song of a home of rest ahead. May be if I stayed around, it might tell me more about you, the one I might want to hear more about.

I am so immersed in the trance of the blue waters that I hardly see a stranger smiling at me. May be that's my answer or may be not.

Hiraeth

It was as if a long-forgotten dream had flashed right in front of my eyes that evening. A glimpse of that last day in December when you I saw you last, the day we spent hours at the bookstore just because you wanted to buy me a book, the last time you had held me close and the day you left so as to make our dream true.

What I saw was none of these but an opulent durbar, the dancers and the audience who were screaming praises of my own name when I looked at my demure queen with a quiet pride knowing her to be mine only. There she was, smiling at me. Though veiled, the silhouette of her cheeks could be seen against her red veil. 

As we walked side by side, the crowds roared. We climbed those ancient steps and looked in the huge mirrors as if it was part of an old dream, as if two broken pieces were put together in a perfect shape for an instant. With a strange wonder, I recognised an old home, a place of no return, one that I lost long back return as we stand chattering inside a palace that gives a strange sense of having lived here long before.

Magic Lamp

We all feel good when our wishes turn true at the right time before your heart has given up what it wants. The moment you rub the lamp, a genie appears and all your wishes are granted. It could be material gains, live of the one you want, energy, knowledge- whatever be your desire, may it come to you when you need it. 

Though you grow up and become hurt by the adult world, most of the time we keep with us, a child's perspective and what used to entice us a child. Journeys, adventures, people, books, movies and what not used to thrill us. However, in the adult world, this sense of adventure is diminished for mst of us except for a few who has managed to keep intact the mindset of a child. Growing up, we all recognise the ugliness of the world that we have around us. 

Life is strange and what matters to one person may not be interesting to another. Yet, there is Providence bringing you to what you want. May all your wishes come true when you want it and may you keep safe your belief in all the good things of life. 

#magiclamp

#aladdinmovie

Magic Lamp

 

We all feel good when our wishes turn true at the right time before your heart has given up what it wants. The moment you rub the lamp, a genie appears and all your wishes are granted. It could be material gains, live of the one you want, energy, knowledge- whatever be your desire, may it come to you when you need it. 

Though you grow up and become hurt by the adult world, most of the time we keep with us, a child's perspective and what used to entice us a child. Journeys, adventures, people, books, movies and what not used to thrill us. However, in the adult world, this sense of adventure is diminished for mst of us except for a few who has managed to keep intact the mindset of a child. Growing up, we all recognise the ugliness of the world that we have around us. 

Life is strange and what matters to one person may not be interesting to another. Yet, there is Providence bringing you to what you want. May all your wishes come true when you want it and may you keep safe your belief in all the good things of life. 

#magiclamp

#aladdinmovie

Sensitive old soul

You are no longer young and this shows in your bones and how you carry yourself. You do not belong to those who are family nor to any group of friends or community or religious group.

You are like the primeval amoeba floating in the sea of life waiting to meet someone exactly like you. Your thoughts are strange and your actions even more strange, especially to others who do  not understand the language of your world.

You have reached a point where you cannot bear it any longer and all you want is to transmigrate to another form of life that will make you forget all this uniqueness. 

Soul Food

What comforts your soul, when it is weary with life and cannot go on, what brings you back to the centre when you feel drained of your vital energy, are words written by some strange wise person living in some place and time.

Like a young person perusing loveletters, one reads words of comfort from an unknown hand from an unknown land as if they were written just for your eyes. You feel sustained by their wisdom and they make sense like pieces in a jigsaw coming together. It feels like an unreal experience where the hand of Providence set them right before your eyes to nourish your strength and you feel grateful that you didn't give up this time either. 

Glass-eyed

This heart was a lone warrior, who fought against the injustices of life. Then you came along with the love-light in your eyes and changed this life upside down. You taught me how to look at myself through your eyes and how to love what I saw. It is in your love that I learnt how to be a woman and draw attention to myself. But before my heart was filled with this joy of togetherness, you went away leaving me behind.

Days, months and years when I thought I might have been dead, without you, without my own self that has forgotten how to speak and read. The books pile up before me, my own personal copies from the libraries, here, this and that yet I cannot read a line or understood a thing, a sort of glass-eyedness has taken possession of me. I feel that I need to get away, move out, create a new life but feel sad because I am no longer able to read the print before me, glass-eyed I sadly sit and stare out of the window, thinking of botched goodbyes and unpleasant endings to love stories. 

 But the memory of love that we shared then reaches out to me and I am glad that it was the best thing that happened to me in life.

Sanctity

For there no church bells, no crowds. There was no me looking splendid in a white gown or me crying thinking about leaving home. Only you and me, and a few who mattered, your parents who did everything to make our dream come true and of course, the God of silence, in whose presence we promised eternal companionship. 

No priest uttered the holy words, nor did the laity sing hymns of praise, only I closed my eyes with a smile as you tied the holy knot and bowed down, before you and God. I do not know what prayer my soul heaved, but there was much more in that silence than in the most profound of all prayers.

There were no teasing crowds afterwards, to tease us about our first day of togetherness, to bring blushes to you and me, only your ten pet budgies who watched quietly at the newcomer me glowing in their owner’s complete attention. 

Now many days have passed and we have learnt more about each other through words, touch and fights and the budgies have learnt how to speak in my presence. But it’s the God of silence, who reigns supreme with us as we felt on this Sunday when we stood quietly before his holy altar and prayed for abundant blessings throughout life. 

A Song

 

 

You are my favourite song that I sing day and night till I get tired of singing. You are my summer love of youth that come to me in snatches of songs and as pleasant memories though our love never got a happy ending like others did theirs. With you, it was always the silence that reigned as if we came from some primeval ocean full of ancient longings. You were the sun, the moon, the land, the ocean and all that this heart wanted to see around it.

It was as if we did not need words to speak of the magic that was between us, it was as if we have always known each other minutely and the much-needed words failed to come out though I tried hard when you were around with you. I wanted you to stay around with me always and it is your companionship that I craved throughout all the years.

What I remember is your mellow voice that spoke enthusiastically and warmly of things that moved you and the beautiful way words sounded when you spoke to me. Not that others do not speak enthusiastically or warmly or sweetly but this heart remembers you with fondness and exaggerates how you were, how you spoke and how you behaved. Now, eons later you have become a beautiful song that I know by heart and that might be sung a lifetime.