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. 

 

Good Morning

When you wake up early in the morning feeling quite content with life and you are happy that you have everything that you have always wanted in life, starting with the love of the one you desire. 

You wake up feeling that all your desires are met as his limbs coil around yours early in the morning and when you wake up with your lips locked in his and mumbling good morning in his ears. 

Your heart and soul are at peace and you look serene like a lotus in the pond, exactly where you are supposed to be. There is harmony in your soul because there is a brand new day to look forward to, full of new adventures. 

More than usual, there is a need to do something different ,out of ordinary on a morning like this. Though it's cloudy you decide to go on a walk outside after a long time, all because you feel high about the kind of joy you feel. 

 

The roads are quiet and the city is silent. The signs of life are only few with a few bicycles in the road and people out for walking who like me has decided to celebrate this happy day with a morning walk. 

On a day like this, much is done and much accomplished, when I woke with the sun and with your arms coiled around me. And, you feel excited to look forward to a brand new day full of exciting adventures and the memory of a perfect morning of love.

The Unsent letters

the unsent letters

Happy Birthday KS Chithra

Sometimes, you long to listen to some soulful melodies you have heard before and then you recognize that these songs bring comfort to your weary soul. 

Here are some of my favourites among the thousands of  songs sung by the Nightingale of South India, KS Chithra

1. Manjal Prasadavum

2. Indraneelimayolum

4. Pudamurikalyanam

5. Aa rathri

6. Kannan Thumbi

7. Mounam Swaramayi

8. Attirambile

10. Aayiram Kannumayi

11. Indupushpam

12. Yathrayee Sooryankuram

13. Ponnil Kulichu

14. Varmukile

15. Panchavarna painkili penne

Rain

This rain is like a woman on her periods, depressed and forbidden according to  custom. She feels strongly about how her disappointed ovum and how its bed of readiness burst into tears today.

This rain is like a gluttonous woman waiting for her man to satisfy her hunger. She feels the need to feel close to him and let him make love to her drained body aching with pains and desire.

This rain is a woman weeping without knowing why while on periods- may be for her unborn children or may be it brings restrictions to her daily needs as a woman.

This rain reminds you of a surge of desire that finds an answer in adorning yourself and drawing him in making up for all the lost moments during this taboo period.

Ode to the Puttu

In my college days, I was never fond of puttu for breakfast because it took a lot of time to eat when compared to the other breakfast dishes. But my mother always made puttu because my younger brother loved to eat it everyday and she used to call him putturumeese. My favourite at that time was sambar and idli which I could eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner without a single word of complaint. 

I remember how my grandfather used to recall a day from childhood when he had puttu from a wayside shop when he was going to Charalkunnu with his father. When he narrated this story, I was surprised to hear his love of puttu because I have never appreciated the dish. He described in detail how he watched this woman from the wayside shop mix the flour with expertise and how fast she had made the puttu though she was chatting to him. He had eaten it so fast and with relish because he was hungry after his long walk up the hill. 

Later, when I became a wife and expectant mother, I would long for the tastes of home and childhood as I have written in another post Ode to the Uppumanga. One of the cravings that I had when I was pregnant was for chemba puttu apart from a long list of items cooked by my mother and how I had recreated the same magic because my craving was so high. 

Now, there are a variety of puttu to choose from- oats, ragi, corn, wheat, millet- but I think to this day, my favourite is the familiar taste of chemba puttu along with rasakadali pazham. 

Though I belong to a generation who love the pizzas and the French fries and the Greek salad, and are much adapted to their surroundings, eating whatever is available and whatever one craves for. Yet, like the protagonist in Virasat, one longs for the tastes and smells of our childhood and this is a memory that stays with all of us. 

And, on social media, I see videos posted by people who are far from home and they recreate the tastes that they have known in the foreign land like in the videos shared by @appus08 or how food and memory are so interconnected in the narratives posted by Aparna Jeevan @inji_pennu. 

This post was triggered by a recent question by my brother about breakfast: Is it puttu today also? How times have changed!

The Empress

You are the Earth goddess, the nurturing mother, the protector of the young and the defender of the downtrodden. You hold in amazement the secret of life inside and this knowledge makes you one with the Earth. You watch the cycles of the moon and learn how your frame of mind is influenced by its changing cycles. Like a grizzly bear protecting the young, you are fierce in everything you do for your tribe. You howl and revolt against the injustices meted out against the downtrodden. 

You are a sovereign of your mindscape and your every word, every thought and every action creates repercussions in the real world. You provide a safe haven for those under your shelter and you offer unconditional love and support for the unlucky ones around you. 

You are sensual and you delight in the world of your senses, the colours of the Earth, the soothing music of the waves, the touch of rain on your skin, the fragrance of newly opened flowers and the memories created by food. And, you love these memories that your senses bring back and you love creating art out of these. You bring fruition to your dreams by turning them into reality through hardworking and persistence. 

And, though you are an Empress, you wear no ornaments or glittering clothes but sit with the knowledge of the infinite power you hold within you and you wear a diadem of dewdrops and lovely flowers. 

From Your Valentine (1)

The night is quite cold. Even my bones can feel the chill of this February night. I don’t know what hour it is. Judging from the little glimpse from my barred window, it must be three hours past midnight. 

The morning is hours away and before I go to face my death, I need to see her just one last time. Julia, the daughter of the jailer Asterius will know about it for sure. Asterius thinks highly of me; so does Julia. If not for that herbal potion from my medicine bag, she would have died of high fever. 

 I’m no hero only a priest who became one to give praise to the Lord. But in the reign of the mighty Claudius, I dared to marry off young couples who loved each other. I defied an emperor who wanted all men to join armies and not to settle down in life. I think God will forgive me for what I have done for I know what it is to be in love.  

When she came to see me after her recovery, it seemed like Julia’s eyes had stars in them. She brought sweet pomegranates for me. I am sure this must have been the forbidden fruit that once tempted Adam and Eve. After that I haven’t slept a wink for her eyes have haunted me with their bright-eyed despair. 

Despite the sleepless nights, I don’t feel tired at all. The only thing that is before me is her lovely face. Nothing else. The young ones keep on throwing notes and flowers at my window. Here and there, I have seen her hand too. In the eyes of the world, I am a sinner for marrying off young lovers. But here, on the last day of my life, I regret the fact that I met my Julia too late. It is already dawn and I must write a farewell note to her and seal it with my purple amethyst ring: 

My Julia, 

My love, from the day I saw you smile,
From the very day you came to see me;
Don’t cry for me when I am gone away
For the merciful god will bring us together.

This letter I seal with my amethyst ring
For what you meant to me in these hours,
How dawn has come with your bright face
And taken away the strife of long years.

How I long to hold your hand in mine,
Or say one word expecting your smile,
How late have I come to know you dear
I regret on this last day of my life.

Our loyal hearts will sing in heaven
Though not in this life but eternal. 

From Your Valentine

To be continued...

Grand Rising

I have always carried you in my heart, safe from the prying eyes of the world and even after all these years, I find it surprising that you still remember me in the words you write. When I read your words, a springtime of happy memories flash before my eyes and feel transported to a different time when the heart was lighter and the steps sprightly. 

 

In your words, I read your need to store each and every fond word, every strange fantasy and strangest turn of phrase that I may have said. In them, I see myself attain a beauty that I never knew was mine, a strength that I have recognized only in the latter years. 

 

Sometimes, I wonder whether you will be truly happy cherishing a fond memory which is gone from this world. When I leave this world, I may close my eyes and be gone from this world in an instant. You might wait for me to respond to your voice then find out that the breath had left this mortal body. You might try to call out loud and retrieve my soul from the other world. 

 

In the days that follow, I will have a grand rising in another world. For, I will appear as the tiny sprout of grass on the ground you tread, or as waves that rise to meet your feet, or the air that blows around you or the raindrops that caress you with tender love. 

 

Everyday, I will be sending you letters in sky writing, as clouds that bring you rain and nourishment. And, I will be waiting for you to greet me, good morning.

Goodbye to 2022

2022 began without any celebrations and initially was marked with strife and trouble. It was also a time, one withdrew from the crowd and learnt how to come to terms with personal losses. 

It  has been an year of growth and healing for me. I have experienced that life is very different after the covid scenario especially when lots of people in this world have perished in the pandemic times. You have grown weaker since two or three bouts of covid and this has given you an insight about growing older and gradual passing over into middle age. 

I have felt that I have begun to develop a deeper understanding about my own self and the external world. I often wonder about the fact that I am a late bloomer  one who has got where I wanted to be much later in life. Yet, at times I am grateful for the digressions in my path because it has made me a stronger person who can understand others who are similar. 

And, this year the lesson has been simple like mentioned in Max Ehrmann's Desiderata: You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. The bottom line is that the Universe had your back. 

I feel that I have started developing am unconditional love for myself and I do activities that will help me gain this acceptance for myself. And since 2020, a good deal of focus is given on healing and loving yourself especially after the kind of loneliness experienced during the lock down. 

Though some health issues persist and they cause occasional difficulties, on the whole, 2022 has given me opportunities to learn more about the world and chances to meet me new people and read books that I have always wanted to read. I feel grateful for all the blessings that have come my way this last year and for making me meet a self that is stronger and better than last year-a spiritual being open to receive the lessons that life offers.

Merry Christmas

Spring

Handpicked

In many shades, the choices abound;
So tempting to the surprised buyer's mind.
In earthen shades, mud brown or tan,
Or in tints of the ocean, blue and green. 

The choices are too many, each unique
Be it the drape of emerald or turquoise;
The hues of the skies: rainy, cloudy,
Bright, grey or shades of the twilight. 

The mystic magic of the silver raindrops
The pure red on the bride's forehead,
All before me in the form of these drapes
That each look matchless and perfect. 

From the heap before me, I choose a hue
To bring a wordless wonder on your face.

diary of a female quixote

Gratitude

translation of the poem nandi by sugathakumari

To the sunbeams beaming on my path, I owe my gratitude.

To the heavy burden that I carry on my shoulders, I owe my gratitude.

To the shade offered by the wayside trees and to the cuckoo on the tree-top, I owe my gratitude.

To the sharp pain that pricked me on the way and to the sun which reddened my eyes, I owe my gratitude.

To the shoulders which lightened the heavy burden I was carrying and to the well on the wayside, I owe my gratitude.

To your kindness for pouring water into my outstretched palms, I owe my gratitude.

To the treacherous gutters of darkness and to the cool moonlight that was there last night, I owe my gratitude.

To the tiny wildflowers spread on the path and to the birdsong that comes from above, I owe my gratitude.

To the never-ending flow of tears from my eyes and to the compassion that never dies, I owe my gratitude.

In the distance, I can see a lamp lit and offered by someone and I spend my time alone looking at this, with nothing to treasure, with no knowledge for sure, with no blossoms, with no morning.

Humming a song, I follow the direction of a tender call from  somewhere and did you stand and listen to that, dear friends?

Gratitude...gratitude...gratitude

#translation
#poem
#sugathakumari

handpicked

You love the colors of the Earth: the brown of mud, the emerald of the leaves, the blue of the sky, the aquamarine of the ocean, the  golden shades of falling leaves and the red of the sun.  Like a connoisseur of shades, you choose from the options available, drapes that are unique and tell you a story. 

Your eyes lock on a saree that tells you a story in a shade that you have always wanted. You look at wonder at how the maiden managed to capture the heart of the one she desired and held his hand throughout his life through life's ups and downs. 

You remember how as a young bride you glowed basking in his love and your heart misses a beat when you remember the response on his face when he sees you draped in a hue that he loves. Then I think of how you look at me when I wear a saree that you like and it is with this gaze of wordless wonder in mind that I choose a drape from the heap of sarees before me. 

You remember his expression when he first saw you as a bride dressed in emerald green and later in chilly red manthrakodi. From the options available, you choose a drape shaded  neelakurinji flowers expecting to see an expression of wordless wonder on his face. 

Best Friend

I haven't had a true friend in years. Some bitter experiences have made me change my nature and I have become a recluse in the few years. I wonder what it means to be close to someone, to be able to say honestly what is there in your mind. 

For years, you depend on yourself when in trouble and you lean on your inner strength rather than finding an ear to your troubles. You counsel and guard yourself out of all situations and often you wonder, am I the only one content with the quiet loneliness and struggles to talk to others frankly and openly? 

Am I the only one who have been hurt by a friend so much that life has never been the same after it? Then, the recompense in such an experience is that you never lean on any shoulder but wait for your heart to give you the answer.

#best friend

#definitions

Kindle Scribe

Best friend

I haven't had a true friend in years. Some bitter experiences have made me change my nature and I have become a recluse in the few years. I wonder what it means to be close to someone, to be able to say honestly what is there in your mind. 

For years, you depend on yourself when in trouble and you lean on your inner strength rather than finding an ear to your troubles. You counsel and guard yourself out of all situations and often you wonder, am I the only one content with the quiet loneliness and struggles to talk to others frankly and openly? 

Am I the only one who have been hurt by a friend so much that life has never been the same after it? Then, the recompense in such an experience is that you never lean on any shoulder but wait for your heart to give you the answer.