X'mas Tree

One last time before taking the Christmas tree down!

My roots strangely

Sometimes, you learn how to feel this sense of belonging to an unreal world and I belong only to you, my love. 

I have never felt this sense of belonging to this place that I left as a child where my brother and I stood in the cemetery every year praying for his dead soul. 

I do not belong to my father's family since its all dead and gone, with a few bones scattered in a churchyard long and far away though you get occasional visits, calls and messages from people who look just like you. 

I  do not belong to the place where I grew up in my mother's native place beside the River Green, where it was always fun to be playing in water yet there were rightful inheritors who belonged just because they grew up there. Then there were homecoming that were full of affection from your grandparents or their visits to our city that were memorable. 

Now, I belong by marriage to a family which calls me my own though the blood that runs through my veins is hardly theirs and sometimes I get the feeling that I am home, finally free from this sense of not belonging. 

Do I belong to my co-workers who call me my formal name and I am a familiar stranger who does not have many stories to tell but nods and smiles and passes them by. Yet, there are times when you connect with someone and you feel that you have always belonged there and you sense this bond that goes beyond words. 

Then, in an imaginary realm, my love, you are the one who star in my all my dreams, the one whose thoughts occupy this arid life and I long for your presence just like one longs for rain in summer. 

You know me inside out like the palm of your hand or like the page of a well-thumbed book and what makes me a woman when I am with you. You know my

feminine spirit and tenderness and not my occasional clownishness in trying to belong to some name, some family, some tribe, where I do not belong.

It is to you that I belong, your complement that fulfills and completes you,  in the melting down of the barriers between you and me, and the all engulfing tenderness that follows our lovemaking. 

That is the space where I see myself as feeling belonged and as having a pet name that you call me always. 

Purple Riot

The purple riot began

And took root slowly.

Who would've thought
Who would've known

In the rear view mirror
It looks like spring again

It's snowing every morn
And melting by evening.

The beauty that returned
The songs that don't cease

One day sitting nearby
Feeling the full purple riot

The deep desire in your eyes
That sang to me whole night

The hand that almost reached
The purple riot in your heart.

self love

Rebus Writing

 I really miss the days when people texted more than Yes, No, ok, and what? and abbreviations and short forms than send meaningful long sentences, properly capitalised, spelt and spaced meaningfully. May be you might think that I am a purist but this craving exists to get a well written letter or a handwritten page.

I remember there were friends who could match wit with wit, anger with anger and repartee with repartee, all in matter of seconds and you could roll in laughter at the words they said. You look with nostalgia at the SMSes that could make  your day.

I really miss those texts in words, invites, reminders, emails and missing you messages not the rebus that you read these days. I think want2cu2moro is good enough but I think might like a longer text that goes: I missed you a lot today, my dear and want to see you tomorrow. Please stand near the tabeubia tree where we usually meet. 

The Unsent Letters

Dear Sean

Your warm eyes jolt me into whirlpools of desire and I want to forget myself and everything around me. My only focus is on you and nothing but your breath and the warmth of your body. Your words draw me close and I completely leave the world I have to be with you. I'm drawn into your world and I submerge myself in the tides of your passion. I want to watch you sleep peacefully in the calm after the storm. I gain an understanding about love and the ways in which our love is going to stay. I want you know that this love is our sanctuary, a bond that will endure. I want you to know that our connection will weather any tempest, and we will remain together.

Love

Berry

rebus writing

I really miss the days when people texted more than Yes, No, ok, and what? and abbreviations and short forms than send meaningful long sentences, properly capitalised, spelt and spaced meaningfully. May be you might think that I am a purist but this craving exists to get a well written letter or a handwritten page. 

I remember there were friends who could match wit with wit, anger with anger and repartee with repartee, all in matter of seconds and you could roll in laughter at the words they said. You look with nostalgia at the SMSes that could make your day. 

I really miss those texts in words, invites, reminders, emails and missing you messages not the rebus that you read these days. I think 

want2cu2moro is good enough but I think might like a longer text that goes: I missed you a lot today, my dear and want to see you tomorrow. Please stand near the tabeubia tree where we usually meet. 

I love your meaningful silences and how you read me without using words. But, I want to hear what you think, that too unedited and free.I want to read messages that are honest and unedited showing exactly what you think and about what you want. 

Most of the time, I want to have candid chats with you, ones that stay with me all the time and ones that could keep me warm throughout the wintry days. 

The Unsent Letters

death

Reading Meghadutam

 

May be it was the shape of his beloved's favourite beast

Bent down to butt a riverbed that inspired him to poesy.

May be it was the memory of his lover's sandalwood body

Or the grief of separation from her that made him sing so.

Whatever the reason might have been for him to compose,

He thought of her long hair without adornments or flowers

Drawn together in a single sweep in the long absent months,

He sang this musical erotic message promising rejuvenation.

He thought of her beauty that made him err in his daily duties,

The early hours of the morning when he spent hours with her,

Which he didn't want to forsake and plucked the holy lotuses,

Which he plucked before time to get punished for a long year.

When the rain bursts on her, he wants her to remember him,

Who in the eight months of absence longed to be with her!

Beannacht: A Blessing for the New Year

For Josie

On the day when

The weight deadens

On your shoulders

And you stumble,

May the clay dance

To balance you.

And when your eyes

Freeze behind

The grey window

And the ghost of loss

Gets in to you,

May a flock of colours,

Indigo, red, green,

And azure blue,

Come to awaken in you

A meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays

In the currach of thought

And a stain of ocean

Blackens beneath you,

May there come across the waters

A path of yellow moonlight

To bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,

May the clarity of light be yours,

May the fluency of the ocean be yours,

May the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow

Wind work these words

Of love around you,

An invisible cloak

To mind your life.

[Note: "Beannacht" is the Gaelic word for "blessing." A "currach" is a large boat used on the west coast of Ireland.]

Masks

You and me have worn many masks with each other. Any other woman would leap and violently tear that mask of silence off your face. But I watch in silence, everyday, how far will you carry the game. You will only smile and say the same words of courtesy. But when your silence is broken by hoarse laughter that sounds so hollow, all my anger disappears and I find you the same as ever, childish and ever trying to hide your insecurity in being aloof and in being funny. After finding out how you feel, I see that I try to do the same with you.

Déjà vu

The place looks familiar to me though I have come here for the first time. It's as if you've been here before, though you know you haven't. The scene before you is like a dream, one that you've had before, but can't quite remember. I experience a sense of déjà vu looking at the blue waters and the houseboats wading in the water. 

As you stand there, lost in the tranquility of the moment, you start to wonder if the waves might hold some secrets, some whispers of the past that could reveal the truth about your connection to this place. Maybe, just maybe, if you stay a while longer, the waves will tell you the story of how you could hear the song of a home. 

You feel a sense of longing, a yearning to know more about this place, about the person whose home might be this place. You're so caught up in the trance of the blue waters that you barely notice the stranger smiling at you, their eyes crinkling at the corners as they take in the sight of you, lost in thought.

For a moment, you wonder if this stranger might be the answer to the questions that have been in your mind. Maybe they're the one who can tell you more about this place and about the song that's been echoing in your heart. 

Maybe the answer lies within you, in the depths of your own heart, where the memories of your dreams and the longings of your soul reside. 

Lucky Bamboo

The Unsent Letters

Dear Sean

Your thought crossed my mind when I heard a song that you love.Then, I remembered how throughout the years, I have mourned your absence though I have never tried talking to you at all. I think I should made an attempt because staying in touch might have brought down the anguish that I experience in my life. I run through the young years and tell myself how blessed I am, to have met you and tasted of love though we were never lucky enough to be together in this life. But in an alternate universe created by my longing, you have never been away from me but has been my constant source of solace.

Love
Berry

The Unsent Letters

Dear Sean

If you ask me what will you do given the same crossroads, I will give the answer that I will do everything differently, take a risk for you and will give everything just to get you I'm life. You will be my top priority and I will not think twice about it. For every day, this heart has longed for nothing but your return and I will never think twice before picking you from the choices that I am given in any life.

Love
Berry

 

the unsent letters

handpicked

You cherish the Earth's palette: mud's earthy brown, leaves' vibrant emerald, sky's brilliant blue, ocean's soothing aquamarine, and sunset's golden hues. Like an expert buyer of sarees, you select unique drapes that whisper stories. Your eyes settle on a saree that captivates you and its pattern talks of a lifelong desire.

You marvel at how a maiden's love entranced her beloved, their hands entwined through life's joys and sorrows. Memories of your own youthful bridehood glow, basking in his love. Your heart skips a beat recalling his enchanted expression when you wore his favorite hue.

You remember his gaze of wordless wonder when you wear a beautiful saree he had bought for you. You recall his face when he first saw you in a saree and how he had looked at you in wonder. Inspired by this memory, I choose a neelakurinji printed drape waiting to bring that same awestruck look on his face. 

The Unsent Letters

Dear Sean,

I remember the first letter you wrote me like it was yesterday. The way you wove a story around our bond, which was surprising as it had left me wondering if it was just a tale or a glimpse into the magic that existed between us. I recall the spark in your eyes when I asked if the story was about us, and the shy smile that spoke volumes about your feelings.

As I read your words now, I'm taken back to that moment, and I'm filled with a sense of nostalgia and longing. The texture and appearance of the notebook paper may be etched in your memory, but for me, it's the emotions and thoughts that you poured onto those pages that have stayed with me. Your letter was more than just a story; it was a declaration of the connection we shared, a connection that has only grown stronger with time.

I'm grateful for the countless letters, stories, and poems that have followed- each one a testament to the love and affection that we share. In a world, where time and circumstance can sometimes pull us apart, your words have been a constant reminder of the bond that we created long back. I still cherish the memories we created, and though apart, how the memories bring back a love story full of unconditional love for each other.

With all my love,

Berry

The Unsent Letters

Dear Sean

You remember the first letter that I wrote you? It was in the form of a story and I thought like in a story that I had read, there be will be countless letters and stories and poems all written for you, till the day I die. Here, years later I still remember the texture and appearance of the notebook paper that i had at that time and the way you had asked me if the story was about the magic between you and me. I was too embarrassed to answer directly and it was from my shy smile that you read about what I really felt about you, that day once upon a time in our world of togetherness. 

Love

Berry