Riding on a Full Moon Night

The ice-cold fingers of the full moon,
Could seep through the windowpanes
And caress this small self that moved
Across the state on a large vehicle.

The city lights shone in the distance,
Ships and islands glittered in my view,
While I sat in the bus dreaming of you,
And thought the moon followed my path.

The journey was unpleasant and sad,
To see if life could change from despair,
But wherever I went, the full moon shone,
In a life that was spent in your dreams.

In those times, you were like a deity,
Whom I worshipped night and day.

The second is always the best

My grandmother always had this saying to prove that I'm not as good as my elder brother: The second is never the best. Her explanation was that the expectation and charm of a first-born, first job, first salary (who said so- money is money, spendable, splashable and savable) is unmatched by anything that comes after it. My grandmother always favoured the eldest and the male. It was part of her legacy and I was more than once much irritated by her attitude.

For a few months, I was working as a lecturer in a college. Though temporary, it was my second stint as a teacher for students at the college level. The first stint was very unpleasant and had made me very bitter and comically venomous towards teaching at colleges in general though the fault lay in my mind, which was so unfocused and fatally in love.

But this second time was different. It was only few months but the best time of my life in my opinion. A city college with not many amenities but the basic ones and students coming from poor backgrounds, it was not easy to win hearts as a teacher.

When I leave the campus in a few days, I know that I have not made a revolutionary change in the "Englishes" of my students but I know for sure that I have made at least a small difference in their grades.

Now, I'm leaving a job after making my students ( at least my Drama class students) and the teachers in the staff room LIKE me incredibly.This second chance for me at least meant that I could shed many of my stupid notions and negative emotions as well as my own lack of confidence in my teaching abilities gained as an after-effect of my first stint.

Shell

Once it was burning the midnight oil,
Going over thick books and big ideas.
Now, times have changed, so have I,
With my mind no longer ready to read.

Though dark nights are back again,
Heavy with despair and old grief,
Over life lost to this crumbling
Of all existing personal barriers.

I wish it was easy to build again,
A shell of comfort and silence,
Read myself to that forgetfulness,
That came with books and ideas.

But this mind, once a clean page  

Could hold the wisdom of ages. 

Celebrating 300 posts

It was only in last June that Journal- Serious and Trivial celebrated its 200th post and he not-so-modest author  made a pick of what she considers as the best of her most valuable sacred space: potpourri blog of poems, silences, reviews and definitions of silence. Now, several months later, lagging behind in the number of posts due to several reasons yet trying to catch up with an occasional post or the other, this journal is celebrating its 300th post. 

Here are a few select posts from the meagre and feeble 100 that followed the 200. 

• Journal-Serious and Trivial  
• Goodbye Again 
• Ineffable  
• Childhood  
• Brilliance  
• Sunset  
• Freefall  
• Life
• Celebration  

This year, the Indiblogger rank of this blog has gone up again and reached 60 this time, though it was from 71 that it fell sometime back!

Reading Spree

Do you know the occasional learning spree that makes you read every scrap of paper that passes before your eyes? Well, I have this tendency once in a while, when I want to read lots and lots of books and gobble up tonnes and tonnes of new ideas- anything that can quench my thirst for knowledge. But such spells last only a short span of time and may be followed by times of no reading at all.

This week, I'm on such a reading spree and I have got writing assignment on new topics that  might have created this curiosity. Well, let's see what writing comes out of this love of words and ideas.

Interesting Articles I Read Today

Dear Reader,

I'm sharing with you a few interesting articles that I read today:

1. 36 Poetry Writing Tips 
2. 9 Ways to Develop Intelligence at Any Age
3. How to Touch Your Creative Soul: A Zen View

Hope you enjoy reading them as I did!
Regards
Maria

Goodbye Again

For you, no words are enough; no goodbyes enough,
For you were always there besides the River Green,
Looking at my small and big steps with lots of pride
For all these long years from early childhood.

Now you are like a child with a weak heart and mind,
That trembles and forgets who you really represent,
Still in your shaky voice heard over the distance,
I hear the same pride that I have heard before.

You taught me my first words and the first songs
You sang in that hoarse voice, your many boatsongs,
That later formed the wild rhythm of musicless songs
Written in a language you have forgotten to understand.

Now, all you know is a strange language of goodbyes
That makes my heart tremble and grow old so early.

I

I am the taste of pure water and the radiance of the sun and moon. I am the sacred word and the sound heard in air, and the courage of human beings. I am the sweet fragrance in the earth and the radiance of fire; I am the life in every creature and the striving of the spiritual aspirant.

The Bhagavat Gita

Resolutions of 2009

It's been a long year, this 2009 and somehow I was not able to stick to  my  New Year Resolution that I had made this year- to write a page a day. 

Till June, I faithfully continued writing a page a day and blogging regularly. But then, ill health took over and I stopped my writing altogether. Still, I believe that I was able to do some work regarding my blog, which has occasional posts and is not at all a disappointment for me. I guess I bragged about writing a page a day and that finished my writing habit!  


Regarding my other New Year Resolutions ( to lose weight and get up early), however I was more or less successful. The first resolution was an indirect result of watching how the Indian actor Aamir Khan worked hard to gain his six pack abs. However, my plan was only partially successful because it was ill health that brought down the scales and no hard work or dieting. 


Getting up early in the morning was a mirage for me because of my habit of sleeping at around 2 a.m. It was solved when I got a job and started waking up at 7 and later paying off the sleep debt after work. This has been the practice on weekdays since September but on holidays, I sleep till noon. Still a far better me than before! 

A wish

One wish can travel far
Or wide through time,
Whatever the day might be,
A wish that was never made
Aloud with words.

One wish with love
Uttered in silence
Before the altar of souls,
Can bring peace to you,
Wherever you are.

I have heard that you're gone,
Far into the unknown land,
Where I can never reach,
With my wishes or prayers
Or with loving messages.

May be it's another lie,
Like that one said
To win an epic war,
One told out of spite,
Just to bring tears.

One wish can travel far
Or wide through time,
Whatever the day might be,
A wish to bring a smile,
Wherever you might be.

Hatred

The thin cold fingers seep through every chunk in the soul,
Hatred of a high degree, much hidden by concerned words,
Much disguised by painted smiles and sharp insults,
For you to swallow and digest like those bitter pills daily.

Whom shall you trust in these times of embittered silence,
For each and every shoulder listens and remembers all,
To spring sudden surprises at a relaxed carefree self
That somehow is taken aback by the venom of words.

The venom of words that you spit when you are angry,
The tone of voice that carries deep dislike and jealousy,
One wrong word somewhere and you are driven again,
Once more into these same alleys that witness fights.

For a hatred of a higher degree bad words aren't enough;
It requires the art of cleverly wrapped insults and smiles.

Can you communicate freely without using the word "I"?

Childhood

Where have all those days gone, those of laughter
And of tears, when beside the huge river green,
A childhood was spent in thousand creepy fears,
Taken out of my grandmother's long night tales.

Where have all those tastes of childhood gone,
Mangoes plucked from the neighbour's orchard,
The sweet bites of freshly cut sugarcane stems,
Along with jaggery sweets from next-door kitchen.

Where have all those big dreams of life gone,
Playing doctor with sharp pencils as syringes,
Of travelling around the world in eighty days,
Of being Edmund Dante or the Musketeers.

Those childhood days beside the river green
Are now long-faded photographs and memories. 

Learning

You and I have come so far after travelling the miles together and apart. If you look back, the growth has been amazing. For you will see that I have changed beyond recognition and am much devoid of my often boasted scholarship; instead what i have gained from life is a sour temper and vaguery in every field. While you , who never bothered to read any scrap of paper except the titillating have become a bookworm, who boasts of every little piece of knowledge you have gained. Still the contrast is amazing in that you still look forward to me like you used to do; while I live a dual life- the past and the present.

Brilliance

What learning can books give once you lose your head?
Once you lose your head to the voices inside your head,
The conflicting voices that opine for and against,
Each and every action and emotion in your mind.

For whom, will you turn to when your heart speaks,
In two languages, one of desire and one of fear,
Hesitating between the two like at crossroads
And shudder at the thought that your life is gone.

Gone with the web of thoughts that doesn't exist,
Gone with the lack of concentration this state brings,
The original you is buried somewhere someplace,
Somewhere in the past when brilliance shone.

All you can ever do is make a show of brilliance,
When your head is empty; just like others do.

Silences

The silences formed her nature;
When for others words came easy,
For her words were clumsy, gauche.

They came in left-handed strokes,
At inopportune times and slashed,
Through many hearts like knives.

That’s not what she had wanted,
All she wanted was to bring smiles,
And show people how she cared.

Instead she watched others do it;
Bring smiles and wipe others’ tears,
Or soothe a lonesome broken heart.

Silences remained her language until,
She was loved; made to laugh aloud, 
Forget her tears, with loving words.

Sunset

We sat on the sands watching the sun set,
Splashing many hues from a vibrant palette,
What shades of blue, grey, red and orange,
Etched against a mass of blue ocean.

The waves beat against the sandy shore,
While crowds gathered to step into water,
Toddlers and children, laughing wildly,
While we watched and took in the scene.

Now, many seasons have come and gone,
The shades have become only lovelier,
While the light of love that once was there,
In your eyes have faded with the seasons.

No words are enough to describe that light,
Or the brilliant hues of the setting sun.

Funny Advice

Beauty Advice given on my Cleanser( I don't think I need to explain it):

Apply on a cotton pad mornings and evenings before using any other care products.

Reconciliation

You pretend to laugh at my jokes; but I see your face clearly though I may not always see it. Your voice betrays your hatred at what I have done and what I failed to do.You think that your hesitation is much better than my total change of plans. But looking deeply, you wil find that the spirit is same; too much thought that leads to much inaction and nowhere in life.

You think about finding answers in logic; while I depend on intuition and the flow of the moment. Who are you to blame me for crumbling before mighty forces? For I would never have crumbled, my dear, if you listened to what pained my heart when it mattered. Nobody did. All you did was to laugh a queer laughter at my craziness and sudden loss of intelligence.

Now, I find that you and me, the best of all allies have become strangers in a strange land and crave for love from kind strangers, though what lies behind us is a mighty past full of great dreams and common likes. For you, who never cared for the word "honour" shirk at my sight because I have thrown mud at your so-called honour that never mattered anyway.

Playlist of the Day

These are the Malayalam tracks that I'm listening to right now at raagaonline:

1. Chandana Cholayil from Sallapam
2. Mounasarovarom from Savidham
3. Pathiramazhayetho from Ulladakam
4. Saagarangale Paadi from Panjagni
5. Manjal Prasadavum from Nakhaksthangal