Us

 

 

In a way, each story that we tell has the same kernel in it- our dreams, hopes and longing all lost and found again in a smile that can light up a fire inside or bring joy. You and I have become wordsmiths who try to bring all our liquid pain into the art of telling pleasing stories. 

The stories that we write are not what really happened or events that could really happen. These come from an imagination that loves to wander and see what would have happened if we were together and not apart as was willed in life.

Sometimes, it is sunshine and laughter outside; depends on the state of this mercurial soul. The reality imposes on us, at times taking away everything and at times giving blessings unasked for.

Your stories reveal the joy of finding happiness in new things, which are in fact, new ways to name the old likes and loves while I harp on change and about moving on but have stayed in the same year where I stopped learning. The year that I write in my mind is often the one I lost you in life.

The fire of a smile still burns in these kernel stories of love, longing and loss and we have become like straight lines that run along parallel throughout the many lives.

 

Daily

It has always been my dream to wander the world with you- go places, find beauty in nature and in simple things and live life to the fullest. What I have always wanted is to wake up early and watch the streaks of dawn across the sky and then snuggle you to wakefulness. 

The other dream has been to visit my native place near the River Green and watch the snakeboats glide in the river during Onam. Once in a while, to get soaked in its waters with your clothes on like in a lost childhood near the River. Also, to go a graveyard with my people in it to see the graves that have lost their names in renovation and forgetfulness. 

May be to find love once again in life, the beauty lost with time and the lost art of smiling many times daily like an innocent child does. May be to wear a spot of sindhoor on my forehead like a newly wed woman with pride in her acquired happiness.  

A Life of Purpose

Sometimes, a person is remembered by the lives they touch especially in the field of medical care. Dr. K. Lalitha has been a leading doctor of Gynecology in Trivandrum and at least 1 lakh women have benefited from her service as a doctor. She has served in various government and private hospitals in Trivandrum. 

As for me, I still remember the visits to her hospital when pregnant and the D day in the labour room, when after a long day of contractions, she advised me to do an epidural and brought the baby out through vacuum suction. She held the baby upside down and said, "It's a boy" and gave the crying baby to the nurse for cleaning. The days that followed were eventful especially with some post-delivery issues and she came running in the small hours of morning to attend me. 

I think she belonged to the old school who encouraged new mothers to breastfeed till six months though she was quite informative on modern techniques of contraception which she spoke of later. 

And three years later, I had this strange experience of milk coming out of my breasts though I had stopped breastfeeding. It happened to me when I was taking class and I had to go home because of the discomfort it brought. When I spoke to her, she asked me whether I had thought tenderly of my child when at work. She alluded to Kunti feeling the same when she saw Karna for the first time. We laughed together and I felt relieved. And, I thanked her and left with a lighter heart. 

I still remember her genuine concern for her patients and the fondness with which she addresses people. May her soul rest in peace! 

Evenings at the 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 with you and I, looking forward to our days of favourite comfort food at our old hangout. 

Thunderstorm

The tiny yellow leaves that had got stuck in his hair made me feel a strange tenderness for him. At that moment, what I wanted the most was to run my fingers through his hair and to make him feel a strong sense of intimacy between us that might have started to grow in my mind. This feeling of being one with him even when away from him hit me like a thunderstorm, the first time I had gazed into his deep eyes. His eyes possessed that strange power to nudge me from your usual train of thoughts and make me high.

The leaves might have fallen on his head as he waited for me under the trees. Though he said he had not waited much, his eyes showed his longing as if he was eager to see me arrive at the spot. His eyes flickered with a strange delight the moment he heard my footsteps and he looked up. When he looked at me every time, it was like I could hear the roar of the thunderstorm that was brewing between us. I don't think I need much except this roar of the thunderstorm daily to live. 

Strength

You shine radiant and bright with the light of your wisdom, the way you fiercely stand up for what you want in life and by the fire of your words and actions. 

You heal the curse of generations by being different from the rest of your tribe and by your pure life that has become a model for others. 

You are outwardly like the rest yet a quiet strength radiates from your being, drawn from experience and from bearing with equanimity whatever life has been throwing at you. 

You own the heart of a lion and you lead the pack not by words but by being you, so that people are not scared to be themselves around you. 

You are of the house of the Sun and you love to dress in the colors of its radiance like the sunflowers and the marigolds do. You hold the torch of wisdom so that others can see in the darkness. 

#strength 

#lionheart

#josephinewall

The Unsent Letters

A Glass of Lemonade

Just like most of the weary traveler scorched by the summer heat, you dream of cool water bodies to immerse yourself in or of drinking tall glasses of cool lemonade or applying unguents on your hot and tired body. In many of your summer dreams, you recollect your childhood spent playing near the River Green and spend days eating ripe mangoes from the tree in your yard. You long for your childhood companions and think of the times when you could play forever in the cool waters. The summer also brings back your dreams of a loved one and the quiet knowledge of his affection, not uttered aloud everyday but read through the love-light that you read in his eyes.

In the midst of this tedious summer, you find reasons to celebrate- like the first rain that brings smells of the wet earth and a sense of coming alive with nature. You feel the same resurgent life as you step into the River Green and forget time in its waters. Or when you sip a tall glass of tasty lemonade from a wayside shop just to quench your thirst. This sweet and tasty taste of lemonade quenches your thirst but keeps you craving for more, and this becomes linked in your mind with summer heat. Like the love-light in his eyes that you recall every now and then, going back again and again to your loved one and your dreams of being one with him in all senses- mind, body and spirit- you dream of the tasty lemonade that comes back to you every time you think of summer.

And, though this love has lasted several summers not one and has awakened in  you desires too deep for words, your thirst for this glass of elixir and your love of your dreams have stayed the same throughout the many summers. 

 

The Unsent Letters

The Unsent Letters

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.