Memories

When I was in my twenties, I had this habit of capturing moments on the lens and almost very occasion was marked by the countless snaps took on the camera. But with the passing of years, on growing older, you have changed your nature and you no longer believe in taking snaps to treasure memorable moments. 

Most of the time you want to sit idle and be there in the moment, taking in the experience as a whole with your whole self. Then, you come back to your experience and rerun it in your mind's eye savouring each and every 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. Anyway, I would say you are my favourite movie rerun in my mind's eye, with the smallest details and more precious than any moment ever caught on the lens. 

My Dream World

I belong to only to you, my dream world- not to the place that I have left as a child, or to my native place, to my father's place which I have left as a child. I do not feel that I belong to my father's family as he is dead and gone long back and what I have left of him are a few scattered bones in a graveyard and some books and diaries that he left behind.

I do not belong to the place I grew up as a child beside the River Green, where it was always fun playing in the river yet I never belonged to my mother's family for there were rightful inheritors who belonged more rightful than me. I do not belong to my extended family for I have blindly followed their traditions and values without questioning them and created a tradition of handing over the acquired culture.

I belong only to you, my dream world and my twin flame, who knows my ups and downs, my feminine spirit and tenderness, my occasional clownishness in trying to belong to some name, some family, some tribe,where I do not belong. Yet in the realm of unreality, it is you who define me, in the sacred space of our togetherness,in the melting down of the barriers between you and me, and the all engulfing tenderness that follows, that is the space where I see myself, as yours having a name that you call me when no one is around and being yours other beloging to any place, tribe or family.

Rain Chants

The sacred space by the temple was created on a platform of red bricks and nearby a saffron-clad priest chanted the ancient chants for rain in high tones. The land was dried up and deviod of any trace of life and the people draped in earth-coloured cottons chanted with the sun scorching their wheat-coloured skins.

The chants reverbrated in the blazing summers and were offered to the gods of the sky and the wind and the people remembered all the occasions when the land was blessed with rain following the rituals. The children from the village played by the dried up temple pond, thinking of the days where they splashed in the cool water, sat idly in the cool recesses of the rocks, or chattering with the juice of ripe mangoes oozing on their hands and faces.

The ancient chanting went on incessantly, in a land of purity, where none could wash or bathe except in the muddy pond waters and the summer  blazed along with the hot afternoons, when none could sleep, for the heat numbed and scorched the earth.

The ancient chants went on praising the rains: oh you rain; much awaited, the boon of heavens,
that brings joy to the earth, wealth to its people,oh you rain, come with thunder and lightning,
and soak our brown skins with delight. Oh rain, the fulfillment of forecasts and incessant prayers,
I invoke you in the names of the barren earth, the dried up rivers and lakes, the animals and birds,the silent trees and the people on earth.

The rains were awaited after the prayers to end the blazing afternoons of summer heat with the first drops of summer rain and you set the warm smell of earth rising and you bedeck trees with jewels like brides, from furnace hot afternoons to nights of restless pace. It is for the rains, incense is burnt and prayers chanted and it is for you, the comforter on hot summer days. The land and the people waited for the comfort offered by the summer rains.

However, on the third day of endless repentance and prayers, grey and white dappled clouds rose to silhouette the sky, with hints of a sudden outburst. With the advent of the rain clouds, the entire city rejoiced as the wait was over.  The days of drought are finally over and the soft rain slushed over the crowd with bolts of thunder and lightning. The people received in open hands stretched to skies what the heavens granted as comfort from the scorching heat of Indian summer.

The rain fell over the blazing holy fire, with the land and the people soaked in the rain and the beaming children screamed at delight when the droplets of rain drenched their bodies. Finally, the prayers of the people were answered and the land was blessed with rain.

 

Desires

When we began our days together, I remember how you mentioned your wants, desires and needs as a man and what couple goals you dreamt of when you thought of us. I think our days were spent in the small details that you imagined for our life together. 

 

I think you chose assurance and I chose unconditional love for what we needed from each other. You wanted understanding for your words and thoughts while I needed a lot of shaking laughter for my clownishness. You wanted a realignment in thinking while I wanted healing for my past wounds. 

 

I know that we come from two different worlds of understanding and at times, you need to understand what the other feels like. You know that there are days when the past wounds hurt too much and I want this bond to stay strife from memories that haunt. 

 

And, I want us to drink love wild from our togetherness yet grow old as individuals learning from perfect love. You want this love to have a future while I want it to become a sacred space of refuge for us. Let the past try to haunt us with pain and strife but we have each other and our moments of perfect bliss.

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. 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!

A December full moon

It's a lovely night in cold December during the Christmas week, your favourite week from childhood. The cold fingers of the moon seeps through the tree branches and the night looks so perfect, so beautiful and no less can capture the lightness that you feel when you look at the night skies. 

You treasure this moment in your memory as a perfect mindful occasion when you look at something outside yourself and you forget your daily bundle of worries for an instant. You forget the world, the reality that offers you reasons not to follow your heart and to listen to your reason. Everything looks perfect this night, including you and I, enjoying the moment forgetting all worries. 

And, you go revisit this beautiful full moon night for this beauty that nature offers, perfect sights

that never fail to astonish- the turquoise blue of the ocean, the fiery skies during sunsets, the soothing cascades of waterfalls, the perfect symmetry of things that you see around. 

And, you rest under this December full moon, singing the songs of the supermoon forgetting all worries as you bask in the light of the cold full moon, celebrating togetherness and learning that love is much beyond sweet words or intimacy. This lesson lasts beyond time and you treasure the wisdom learnt from this beautiful moments for days to come. 

Female Icarus

Your soul was like a huge flame blazing and burning bright often leaping to the skies in its attempts to stand for what you really wanted and fighting for your dreams till the end. Then, your soul got weary as you experienced various ups and downs and in your struggle with life, you lost your joy of living and your soul experienced the angst of living. 

 

When you look back at the ages that have gone by, you remember that you are like Icarus at heart and like him, you burn down your many mazes in your dash for freedom.

 

There were times when this soul was too silent, too shut out and too withdrawn, incapable of finding meaning in life. Yet with time, you learnt how to read mazes and fly out of them and this dash for freedom looked so easy and so original.

 

This soul still yearns for those yesterdays, when like Icarus you had headed out of the maze you are in and learnt to conquer the difficult situations in life- with courage and not caution. And, you were like Icarus, full of ingenuity and courage though it look a while to heal your hurt wings and dash into the wild skies.

The Unsent Letters

The Unsent Letters

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. 

Dreams

When we were standing together, I remembered the word vulnerable mostly. I think it describes the funny feeling that you have been through this before and you feel very sensitive about the whole experience. Though you feel like you are on cloud nine when in love, your past trauma resurfaces in the smallest slights you feel with your twinflame. 

You feel the angst of being not loved enough, the amount of attention that you received as a child looks insufficient for you to survive. One minute, you feel elated by the wonders of togetherness yet you feel driven by jealousy and unresolved emotional baggage from previous relationships. What if it happens again? You are scared to open up or even to take the risk of opening up before the person you like. 

Yet you weave dreams out of this fantasy of togetherness- 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.  

Yet in an unreal world, you are happy that though it has not started or ended, your dream has become a favourite haunt to wander in and in your days of wandering, you have managed to realign your perspective of life. 

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