Shivsakthi Talks

Letters to the Self

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Goodbyes

Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no such thing as separation.

Varshaa: Rain Melodies

In one of his stories, the celebrated Malayalam writer T. Padmanabhan writes of a man who loves to listen to the sounds of rain so much that he takes a cassette of rain-sounds with him abroad. When he feels homesick, he listens to the sounds of rain- the sudden outburst, the pitter patter of rain on the roof, on the ground and to the sounds of occasional thunderbolts. The rain has always held a fascination for artists and is a constantly celebrated theme in Indian literature and films. 

The theme of the rain is explored by the artists Jason J.Nair and Aby in Varshaa: Rain Melodies, a collection of five rain melodies that inspire both creativity and nostalgia. Though it bursts on you unawares and creates plenty of inconvenience, the rain serves as a muse or a source of inspiration for many writers and artistes. The rain pitter-pattering outside, the sound of thunderbolts flashes of thunder across the sky, the wait for the rains symbolised by the dance of the peacocks or the memories of getting drenched unexpectedly, there are so many threads that come together on listening to these rain melodies.

February

Mother Mary Comes to Me

When you read Arundhati Roy's memoir Mother Mary Comes to Me, you are reminded me of the world you stepped into when you first read the opening pages of The God of Small Things. Once again, you are a teenager reading about the Booker and the River Meenachil she has portrayed in The God of Small Things. 

 

Her memoir features her tumultous relationship with her mother whom she calls her shelter and her storm. The book is about her mother Mary Roy, leading educationist and the woman who fought for ancestral property rights in Kerala. Mary Roy was the founder of a school Pallikoodam in Kottayam and is depicted as a strong woman who stood for what she believed in and Roy traces how she meets Laurie Baker and his assistant, creating in her a desire to be an architect. 

 

The book begins with how Arundhati and her brother are addressless children trying to survive with their mother in the maternal family. Her mother had fled from Assam where her husband was working after their marriage ends abruptly. So, the first part traces her  childhood in Ayemenen in Kottayam and her youth as an architecture student in Delhi, her meeting with her future husband Pradip, the literary endeavours that she made throughout her life as a writer.

She has managed to capture the contradictions involved in the relationship with her mother- the devotion and the differences, the need to connect and the need to stay away. She reminisces about her writerly life and her various assignments. The book also captures the last days of Mary Roy including how the epitaph says Dreamer, Warrior, Teacher on her tombstone.  

Best Version

Reminders of Self-care

Forget

 

It is strangely pleasing,
To see that you remember,
Each and every word I said,
Every word of nonsense,
Recorded and stored,
In your fond memory
 
All the queer fantasies,
Uneasiness and likes,
Every turn of phrase,
Recorded and stored,
Carefully held close
In your fond memory
 
But I would rather you forget,
Every little thing, every word,
Than remember and store,
Treasure with sharp ache,
Going through every day,
Like on a bed of arrows
 
I would rather you change
Change with the seasons
Dance with the crowds
Shake with roaring laughter
Smile that slowbreaking smile,
Than ever remember me
 
Yet every night the candle burns,
With thoughts sent as waves,
Prayers that may or may not reach,
For all blessings to fill your hands,
And strength to forget, forget, forget
An intense slice of an uneventful life.
 

The plans

The Unsent Letters

Female Icarus

Your soul was a huge flame—blazing bright, leaping toward the sky in its effort to stand for what you truly wanted. You fought for your dreams until the end. But after many ups and downs, your soul grew weary. In the struggle with life, you lost the joy of living, and your spirit began to feel the heavy angst of existence.

When you look back at the years that have passed, you remember that you are like Icarus at heart—always flying above your mazes in your quest for freedom.

There were times when this soul was too silent, too shut away, too withdrawn—unable to find meaning in life. Yet over time, you learned to read the mazes and fly out of them. This dash for freedom began to feel effortless, even natural.

Still, the soul yearns for those yesterdays—when, like Icarus, you escaped the maze and conquered difficult situations with courage rather than caution. You were full of ingenuity and bravery, and though it took time to heal your hurt wings, you eventually dashed into the wild skies once more.

 

Your Compass

Dear Self

Life's secrets

The Story Of Badhiya

There is a story about a cousin of the Buddha whose name was Badhiya. He was governor of a province in the kingdom of Shakya, in present-day India. One day a number of his friends who were monks and students of the Buddha came to him and invited him to join their community. He hesitated. As a governor, he had at his command many soldiers, a lot of money, and a very powerful position. But finally his friends persuaded him. He left it all behind and came empty-handed into the forest, where he was ordained by the Buddha as a monk. He didn't have a fancy house to live in anymore. He only had three robes, one bowl, and a sitting mat.

One night Badhiya was meditating at the foot of a tree. Suddenly, he uttered the words, 'Oh my happiness, oh my happiness. It happened that another monk was sitting nearby. The other monk thought that Badhiya regretted having abandoned his position as governor. So in the early morning l that monk went to the Buddha and reported to him. 'Dear teacher, late last night I was sitting in meditation. Suddenly I heard the monk Badhiya exclaiming, "Oh my happiness, oh my happiness." I think he has some problem.'

The Buddha sent his attendant to invite Badhiya to come. In front of a group of monks the Buddha said, 'Badhiya, is it true that last night during sitting meditation you pronounced two times the sentence, "Oh my happiness, oh my happiness"?" Badhiya said, 'Yes, noble teacher, I did pronounce that sentence twice.

'Could you explain to us why you have pronounced these three words during the night?' the Buddha asked.

Badhiya said, 'Dear teacher, when I was a governor my palace was guarded by hundreds of soldiers. But I was still very afraid. I was afraid robbers would come and kill me or at least take away all my valuables. So day and night I lived in fear. But last night I realized that now I have nothing to lose. I was sitting out in the forest at the foot of a tree, and never in my life have I felt so safe. Nobody wants to kill me anymore because I have no power, no wealth, and no jewels for anyone to take. I have nothing. Yet I finally have everything. I am touching such a great happiness and freedom. That is why I have pronounced the words, "Oh my happiness, oh my happiness." If I have disturbed someone, I am sorry. 

From Thich Nhat Hanh's No Mud, No Lotus

Self-care

dreams

self worth

Reaching out

Diary of a Female quixote

1 January 2025

The New Year began quietly at 0001 while I was busy writing in my journal. This has been my habit for the last many years when I have found happiness in journaling about the passing year and the coming one. Unlike childhood, when the New Year began with prayers in the church with the Midnight Mass, the years since my marriage in 2008 have been blessed with midnight musings and nothing else. I have jumped like the proverbial monkey from faith to spirituality to religion to nonbelieving all the time and its hardly news that I don't go to church any longer though I am spiritual and read religious books of all kinds. There are sounds of firecrackers coming from the neighbourhood and every year, it has been a special New Year with the people singing Te Deum at the midnight mass. 

The Happy Ending

2026: The Year of the Fire Horse

According to Chinese astrology, 2025 was the Year of the Green Wood Snake. Next year, 2026 is going to be an Year of the Fire Horse. The year is predicted to be a year of courage, transformation and powerful movement. The last Fire of the Horse year was 1966 and the Fire energy returns to awaken passion and purpose. 

10 January

What you require is a realignment in your thinking as the self-help books go. Sometimes, you need to find stories of survival that are quite different from what you have known and it requires a good deal of strength to come unscathed out of a crumbled world. But you need words, stories, narratives and strategies that helped you survive. These words become reminders that you have survived and that you have learnt how to create new worlds out the remnants. What I say is that you need to realign your world from whatever pieces are left of you and build a new perspective that will help you in being happy. 

9 January

There are times when you want a happy ending in life either with the one you had married or with the one you love but when these thoughts strike you already make into some form of a fiction and you are already under the impression that happy endings are part of fiction and not life. You need memories of the past to make you understand that most of life are repeated experiences as Coelho says teaching things that one is not ready to learn. When I was younger, I was much fascinated by the connections between fiction and real life. There are times when you feel that your life resembles fiction and sometimes fiction is so life-like. 

8 January

This year I have observed the rituals of moving on to the new year and done some introspection at the end of it. In some places, they call it a year ending ritual of moving inward and thinking about what all plans you might have for your next year. These plans could deal with materialistic aims or spiritual goals. For me, I have always wanted to write a book and what I scribble down I want to edit and create a book that can be read by a general reader with curiosity.

I haven't written like this in a long time with only a few lines a day. This year, I got myself a diary with a green cover that says Save Our Trees, Save Our Earth. I am thinking of switching to the virtual format though as this business of writing down thoughts has become too tedious.

As I told you, this last year has been one of good fortune for various reasons. One doubts every year whether one has learnt enough. This life has been full of ups and downs, at times with nothing to bring in happiness. Despite troubles, one has survived though not overcome the obstacles that life threw in its paths. And regarding the blank pages, they can inspire a dull spirit by bringing back life. I felt something come alive within me as I stared at the fresh-scented blank pages and the urge to fill them took over every other feeling that I was having and I took my pen and started writing.

7 January

When I was much younger, I wanted to become a writer and I filled in all the blank pages that I saw. I learnt new words and ways of writing but never thought of putting my mind to writing a journal down. What I feel is that may be, I lacked the determination that was needed to publish a book or create one. But every day was filled with reading books that was of interest to the self with plenty of pages that contained my thoughts.

Now, I still have words with me and the urge to fill blank pages with them. I wonder at life’s decisions and whether I have taken them right. Most of the time, I struggle with life and memory and words but when good memories come to my mind, I scribble them down into some pieces of fiction and that is what has been on my mind lately. Though these thoughts might be good or bad, I started a journal to scribble about them.

6 January

A finished task can bring so much of happiness especially if it is a piece of writing. You look at the perfection of the print and wonder at the content and day is spent at admiring yourself and your writing skills though it could be a just a letter at the workplace or even a small message you had to compose. writing is a form of art for you and you recall the years that you had spent time creating content. there are times when you miss those times especially meeting your deadlines and getting praised for the kind of job you did. At present, those times look so distant and you have lost this habit of scribbling down thoughts, stories of movies you have watched, books you have read, music that kept you raving and the experiences you have had. 

5 January

You sit with a pen and a blank page and words come and visit you from somewhere. You just scribble down your thoughts and there are these thoughts that are on the books you have read, the movies you have watched, the songs that you played nonstop on your phone and the experiences you have had. This was the habit until you started editing your writing and posting them on your blog.

Now, sitting with a blank page before me and it scares me if I am unable to jot down a few thoughts. There are attempts to find balance in an uncertain world through the act of writing. You feel that there are dreams of becoming a writer but they are eclipsed by this desire to write, indulge in the writing spree, the act of word after a word after a word in the words of Margaret Atwood. 

4 January

The sight of a blank page is very appealing to me and I want to write something interesting to read later on. What I have always felt on rereading own words is the interesting manner in which such words clearly depict the growth of an individual. Though I may not have achieved anything significant, I feel that on rereading it is like looking at yourself from outside and like the inner life of a stranger.

I have not written anything fictional for quite some time and I think this is something that comes back with a blank page, the urge to write and to record a few thoughts. It would be really good if I can spare time to start writing every day. That would be a remarkable achievement to start recording whatever you want.

I think it is good to start writing and fill it with details. I think it is time to connect the pieces together and start writing the book called Journal of a Female Quixote. May be expand it on the lines of Bridget Jones Diary and get it published.

3 January 2025

I have begun writing in this beautiful new book, in a diary with a green cover, ready to inhabit the creative space that is offered by the blank pages. As I said earlier, writing in a diary is often like baring yourself before the one you love, without any inhibitions and without self-consciousness. I want my lover to admire the beauty of my curves, the tiny details that make my body apart, with its moles and warts. Just like that, I want you to take in my writing with all its beauty and its flaws, completely, unconditionally. So, off to revealing my heart thoughts to my confidante.

2 January 2025

Writing in a journal often means that you are offering yourself, baring yourself  without any kind of censure. In some of the diary writing years, I have thought of publishing mine but it never happened that way because I was too busy with many things and my journal writing endeavours mostly fizzled out before the end of January. This year I want to write a journal that is worth publishing and want to create positive changes in all spheres of life

I like beginning my New Year with a little bit of introspection. Here, I am sitting with my pen and diary while the rest of the family is sleeping. For me, writing is a way of life and I love confiding in my diary almost every day unless overwhelmed with a busy work life. This year, like almost all the years that I have gone by I want to begin with a holistic goal setting of improving every part of my life including the emotional, spiritual, physical and financial spheres of life.

Seasons

You have sang of the seasons of silence, remembrance and eternal sunshine. The heart has learnt its lesson and found solace in the coincidences that life brings.

 You feel scared of the word planning and you drift through life without any plans or outline. There are moments when the heart celebrates its little victories and cries with pure delight at plain finished tasks that are in no way special.

The seasons remain and you have learnt to count the years in a way that is surprising-one that is dependent on memories and not on years. The heart longs for its lost seasons- youth, love, beauty and intellect- and celebrates through recounting one’s lost glory.  

The Unsent Letters

The Unsent Letters

 

The Unsent Letters

 

The Unsent Letters

 

 

Dear Sean, 

Just the other day, I heard the song Phir Le Aaya Dil from the movie Barfi on the radio. I was transported to the time when we were head over heels in love with each other. When I think of our days at college, I wonder how naive we were and what a beautiful bond we shared. 
 

For me, you were a refuge from the troubles of this world and your hand held unconditional support in those days. Now, in an era of infinite longing, I am reminded of those good old days of togetherness,whenever I hear this song. 

Love

Berry 

 

Icarus and the Sun

kindness

An evening

In the midst of this summer tedium,we meet again,
In the same old park where we used to sit around, 
Reading books and chatting for hours altogether, 
While the ancient tabeubia trees bore us witness. 

Once again, the carpet of pink blossoms is made, 
For you and me to sit and doodle with lifelessons-
The serious thoughts about the angst of this life , 
The trivial thoughts about the colours in the world. 

You are a strong shoulder that I had let go earlier, 
Your few words fill me with so much of happiness, 
I am the mighty wordsmith in whom you believe, 
The one who can conjure up new worlds in verse.

You and I talk of the serious and trivial meet again, 
In our old hang-out under the same ancient trees.

Spring

positive thought

When you wake up in the morning, you can think of the ways in which you can be creative with the day. Most of the time, people are worried about the past or the future and they are not fully open to the present.

Today is a new day and then only then you will be able to understand the meaning of the word present, which also means a gift. That means to be fully open to the world of possibilities and like the poet says to wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving. 

A lament about lost love: K R Meera's novella Meera Sadhu

Love is like milk, with the passage of time,it sours, splits and becomes poison.

The novel portrays the tragic life of Tulsi torn between duty and love and she chooses to run away with Madhavan instead of marrying her classmate Vinayan. She finds that though she loves Vinayan, she gets carried off her feet by the kind of love that Madhavan gives her.

She runs away with Madhavan on the eve of her wedding though she knows from his own mouth that she is his 27th girlfriend. Soon, she recognises that she does not have a role in his life and the story is a lament about lost love.

Through lyrical passages that describe the desire that Madhavan arouses in Tulsi, the author captures the beauty of love buy equally descriptive are her details about his treachery in love, the countless women that he has relations with. This wounds her and she grieves how she sacrificed her career and her life for the sake of the man she chose to be with in life.

The novel details the transformation of Tulsi from a loving wife to Meera Sadhu grieving her life and serving others in the ghats of Varanasi. The frequent shifts in time cleverly portray her memories about her marital life including the good times and the bad times.

Learning Curve

You read and study about the world and the things that you have an interest in. You never cease in your pursuit of knowledge and you do not rest for even a minute.

Whatever task you lay your hands on, you want to learn it and do it in a better manner and that is an your understanding of learning and becoming an expert in your daily tasks or bettering your work or learning how to cook your meals or learning how to read faster.

Sometimes, you might learn a subject just out of pure interest without having any particular aim in learning it except for the pure fun of understanding what it is about.

People might ask you: What is the use of learning this now? Will this serve any practical purpose? But you tell that learning your area of interest is necessary for the purpose of developing your understanding of it and whatever you need to know, you need to know it urgent.

You have your idiosyncrasies and your quaint tastes in reading but you for sure that your knowledge will come of use someday sometime may be in another world that might be made complete by your deep understanding.

Your life gets meaningful by the very task of simplifying all tedious work through an overall understanding of how to make it simpler, better and easier.

enough

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.