My Expression!! My Life!!

I had a dream. I nestled it close to my heart like a mother guarding its cub. I kept it away from all eyes and ears until I felt I could achieve it. I cupped it in the crook of my palms and held it not too tight, not too loose. I did not talk about it to people for the fear that it would not be so magical afterwards. Like a fistful of sand that falls through the sieve leaving behind the fine grains, I polished it until it shone like a diamond, nurtured it until it grew into a sturdy thought, refined it until the coarse edges where smoothened, leaving only the cultured pearl within the oyster… Then one day, another thought crept in… another kind of a reverie… a different sort of a vision… It scared me until I could barely think about the changes that it would wreck on the unique reverie that I cherished… It was like a breath of fresh air... it was radical, intrepid and daring… it still awoke that sense of nervousness in me at the thought of transformation or amendment of my novel thoug...

There was a video that made the rounds of the office mails a few months back. A video which showed Amitabh Bachchan talking about INDIA. It was an initiative by the Times of India and Times Now. Titled INDIA Poised – Our time is NOW. I have reproduced it here in the hope that people are aware of the change that’s taking place in our country. Of course reading it here is not the same as listening to Amitabh talk about it. But I like it a lot and it does quite inspire or awaken something in people! At least it did so for me! *************************************************************************************** There are 2 INDIAs in this country. One INDIA is straining at the leash, eager to spring forth and live up to all the adjectives that the world has been recently showering upon us. The other INDIA is the leash. One INDIA says give me a chance and I will prove myself. The other INDIA says prove yourself first and maybe then you will have a chance. One INDIA lives in the opt...

She was quiet. Almost like her personality was in the silent mode like in a cell phone. Quite contrasting to her personality! She was a chatterbox. Anyone who knew her would say that. She could go on and on and on about stuff… She would just not stop talking… It was quite unlike her to be quiet. And even more so when there was no specific reason to it. Nothing wrong with her mood. Everything was the same and it was quite a normal day. Yet she was silent. And she just did not feel like talking! And she did not feel like giving an explanation as to why she was quiet. No one would understand even if they tried. Because she did not have a reason. She just did not want to talk. Abnormal? Unusual? ************************************************************************************ Has it ever happened to you that you just go silent? I mean even if there’s nothing wrong with you or nothing wrong with your mood! You just don’t feel like talking and least of all give anyone a specific reason a...

How does it feel to get those fat droplets of rain fall on you and stand underneath it without a care in the world? How does it feel to go walking along the lonely roads of the city at midnight, blowing little clouds on mist into the air and feel the cold still tugging at you through the jacket that you’ve worn? How will it be to dance barefoot on a dew-drop filled terrace to your hearts’ content watching the first rays of the sun fall upon you? How would it be to have a hot cup of tea in the middle of the night, watching the mist unfurl in the hours between darkness and light? How does it feel to have a tiny tot touch you with its cute little fingers and cuddle up to you muttering sweet-nothings in the gibberish tongue that it speaks? How does it feel when you come back after a long tiring day at work curl up in the easy chair with a glass of wine, soothing music and a good book, legs resting on the comforter, phone turned off, and just rest and relaxation surrounding you? Does being ...

I HATE SITTING LATE ON A FRIDAY IN OFFICE WITH NOTHING TO DO... :-( WOULD APPRECIATE IT IF PEOPLE REALIZED THAT WE HAVE A LIFE OUTSIDE OFFICE.... WOULD ALSO BE GLAD IF PEOPLE DID NOT MAKE ME SIT HERE SIMPLY WITH NO WORK, NO DEADLINES, OR FOR THAT MATTER ANYTHING TO DO.... WHAT DOES IT TAKE FOR THEM TO UNDERSTAND????

Sometimes even with the closest of friends or relatives, you feel a disconnect… like you are in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person… It would have been just minutes ago before you met the person that you would have been craving to meet up with them… missing them like crazy… waiting inanely for a word from them… any word… a gesture… But when you actually meet them… then?? Then what happens? Nothing! Suddenly you feel like it’s better off not meeting them… at that point of time all you want to do is to be away at some other place … just not there..!! You don't feel like talking, you don't feel like you are a part of their world... You don't feel good about the fact that the tête-à-tête did not come out the way it was supposed to be... Can’t explain it… Doesn’t feel good… But still happens! Wonder why… Wonder how… The craving’s satisfied… but the meeting is far from perfect… Weird are the ways of the mind!!! Has it happened to you??

Yay!! Yay!! I have finally been tagged.... The curse has broken :D... Now I can stop picking up random tags from people’s blogs I browse... :-) Thanks Rat !! The tag: Two questions in each category answer them and then tag your friends from the blog-o-sphere. (Simple enough right?) Leave a comment on their blog letting them know they have been tagged and you are all set. I. Yesterday A. Your oldest memories › My bro’ – Achu – walking downstairs from our bedroom in the farmhouse with his tousled hair... › Amma chasing us with a couple of books in her hand threatening us to do our homework. › Going for a bath in the ‘parakulam’ at farmhouse with towels tied around in a kimono style... I still have photos from that time ;-) › Walking up to the farmhouse with dad and Sahadevan – the caretaker. Falling down and hurting my knee on the jagged rock. Still have the scar to show for it. › Going to school from the farmhouse sitting on my headmistress...

She stood watching him go. The irate strides. The angry gait. The frown on the face. The stiff shoulders. The clenched fists. She was scared … about how things might turn out to be… They had had a fight… not a big one… nor a serious one… but a fight all the same… it was their usual. But this time it seemed different somehow. And for some reason this time around she was starting to feel livid. Livid because it was not her fault. It was not her fault that he said something that annoyed her and she retorted back. It was not her fault that he got upset at the fact that she snapped at him. Most surprisingly because it was the first time that she was replying back angrily to him. Probably that was why he was upset. She had always been careful around him. Keeping her tongue in check. Holding back her words. Keeping under wraps what she actually felt. All because she did not want him to feel bad. Or get hurt. Or worse than that not cause a problem for herself. Avoidance or escapism she did ...

I have this habit of browsing the net for blogs usually through links on other people’s blogs… one blog to another to speak of… and of course in the process I have discovered a lot of blogs written wonderfully well by people which I keep track off once in a while… and recently I discovered that quite a lot of my friends have blogs of their own… and this I found out when I was blog-browsing… It’s quite surprising because for one I would not have pegged them as bloggers... pleasantly surprised is what I would say… Of course I have nothing against them blogging… I am all for it… Join the bandwagon guys… :-) But it’s quite funny when you think of the fact that you never even actually considered them to be of the ‘blogger-kind’. I thought they preferred to be quiet… but shows how wrong I am! And I am proud of them… not because they’re blogging… but because they are choosing to open themselves up to the outside world… and to a set of people who might know them or who might not… I guess this ...

The disclaimer exists no more… I have moved all my ‘italicized’ posts… labeled as ‘Knitted Yarn’… to a new blog by the same name… http://knitted-yarn.blogspot.com I figured I will continue weaving my stories and spinning my yarns, fabricating lives over there… and have this blog for my normal life... :-) Makes sense to me…!!

She was a little girl. She liked dolls. She enjoyed playing house. She loved to dress up in her mom’s saris, jewellery, put on makeup and feel as though she was all grown up. She loved reading. She loved the way her imagination took over her and transported her to a fantasy land where everything had a happy ending. She loved dancing. She loved the way her feet were steady when she tiptoed on them and the way they willingly bided her wishes. She loved music. She loved the way the wind whispered in her ears and gave her music along with the trees and the rivers. She loved being with people. She loved talking. She loved being the cynosure of all eyes.She never judged people and trusted all and sundry. She believed that all people were good and that everyone was nice and sweet and that no one would hurt anyone. And then… She grew up!!

One step forward. Into a new realm of life. Blissful oblivion. Or not?? That one instant when time impedes, the world falls to a still, thoughts tumble over one another to gain precedence, when your entire life flashes over in a few frames… sepia tinted edges… black and white portraits… A spatter of sentiments, a pepper of feelings, the gloom of doom, a silver lining amidst the haze, the adulation of a lifetime, an undying rage, the peep of a droplet in the iris, a dash of laughter, a sprinkle of desire, ….. Those umpteen instances that flashes, flickers and then sputters out …. More like those crackers that we used to buy for festivals, the fizzle, the boom, and then the fading smoke…. Life was all like that right…??? Or not…??? Maybe… maybe not… If only… then maybe… perhaps… definitely… The difference between a rut and a grave is only its depth… So true... So poignant.. What was this for in the present situation …A rut? A grave? A new life? Or the entanglement of the old one? Vestige...

They were like footprints in water. Washed away. And nothing remains!!! How often have we thought that this is something/someone we will never ever forget for the rest of my life… and then it happens! They just fade away… they just grow lighter and fainter until they become just a blur and then they vanish. The days I spent with them are like that. They are in the blur stage now. It’s only a matter of time until they disappear. And I do not know whether I am happy or sad about it. Happy that for a short while at least I loved it or rather I thought I did. I am happy living in that mirage. That portrait that I hold in my mind is the one that I treasure. And the one I would like to hold onto. Sad that it ended the way it ended. Regrets – Yes! Misgivings – No! And that’s where the difference lies. Synonymous words. But diverse meanings when looked at in a sense above the mundane. Someone said – “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup th...

She stood at the window watching him go. He turned back and gazed at her. With a twinkle in his eyes. A smile creased his face. A smile full of warmth and care. A smile that said ‘I am there for you whatever you do, where you go and whatever happens!’ She could not believe her luck. Or rather her fortune. That was how it should be termed now. He was all that she ever wanted in life; just that she had never realized it. She had been caught in a time-warp thinking she was someone else, acting like someone she was not. And now she knew the truth. The human is the only animal that laughs and weeps, for s/he is the only animal that is struck with the difference between what things are and what they ought to be. She could be herself with him. She knew he would appreciate that. He would not stop her from doing what she wanted. He thought she was strong, confident and tough. She knew better. Of course, she would always project herself as this suave, smart, go-getter. Someone who speaks her mi...

She stared out of the train window…. It was drizzling lightly outside… she let the raindrops patter over her hand that she held out…. It felt so relieving… almost as if Mother Nature was telling that she was cleansing her mind and body, heart and soul … giving her a fresh start… and a fresh start it was! A fresh start… a new beginning… an unsullied, unmarked beginning… washing away all the scars and blemishes and rendering her as whole once again… She had walked away from her previous life (yes! That’s how she termed it now)… a life filled with mistrust, suspicion, fights and brawls, tears and angst… the only thing that she could think of now about that phase of her life when she was happy or rather thought she was, was when … was when… was when… she could not dredge up even one instance… she smiled sardonically… not even one instance that she could recall of being happy in the past… and she had thought when she was in the midst of that bond that everything was hunky-dory, cloud nine, ...

Thud…Thud...Thud… Flutter…Thud…Thud…Thud…Flutter… That’s my heart… beating madly like a caged bird… I saw HIM again today… near the lifts… Weak knees…rainbow in the horizon…music in my ears… And I still do not understand why I go to pieces like this when I see HIM… I don’t know him from Adam… I don’t know which unit in my office he works for… I don’t know whether he is married/single/gay/bi or god-knows-what!!! But he looks so cute… I still remember the first time I saw HIM in the cafeteria with a girl … Irony… I guessed they were going around… In spite of my thoughts, they looked good together… like the perfect couple… you know, like those dolls of the bride and groom on the wedding cake… I wanted to smash it!!! Cake and all… this was the scene for a couple of episodes more and the guy never even glanced at me… It was like I never even existed in that world of his… And then as suddenly as they appeared, the couple disappeared… it was just HIM now… Wondered for a couple of days as to w...

A hot cup of coffee, vapors rising off the cup in a haze, clouding her face… Raindrop rhythms pitter-patter on the roof…. The faint scent of the freshly washed earth lingers in the olfactory long after Mother Nature has shown her wonders… She sits by the window-sill holding the cup inside her hands willing it to spread its warmth to her as well… Rains have a strange way of making one reminisce; …. Brings back memories and along with it fresh aches and stab… things of the past beckon to her… signals and gestures her to unlock those carefully preserved memories, brush them out of their hiding place, glance through them once more and then push them back inside into the deep recesses of her mind where they would stay safe until the next time it rained…. What had happened to her life… from who she was to how she is…. From the person she was to the one she had become… transformation some call it… … or in the most esoteric sense metamorphosis… good, bad, ugly – she did not know… What changed...

She thought he was obnoxious. He thought she had loads of attitude for nothing. She thought he was ill-mannered. He thought she was stuck-up. This was not how it was or should have been…. This was what it was a week after they met at college. Him with his thick-almost-opaque glasses, unruly bushy hair, ungainly gait, he had come running to her that first day, when she was with her dad at the bank opening her account. She was taken aback for a minute when he had bounded towards her like a big shaggy dog. She with her dad, wearing a salwar-kameez, clumsily balancing the various pieces of paper that were hell-bent on slipping from her hands. Diffident, keeping a stony face, not exhibiting any kind of outward emotion, praying that the 2 years here better be good or else… They shook hands, got introduced to each other and parted ways until they met in class the next day. Next day was no better. They spoke minimum and in the course of a few minutes he was the only one talking and she was pre...

She leaned back in her chair. The antique vintage clock on the wall showed the time as ten minutes past the witching hour. A low humming she discerned to be her own voice … “Happy birthday to me!!! Happy Birthday… Happy Birthday to me… May God bless me…!” Stop!… God Bless her??? Why would She?? What reason did She have to bless her? Much rather that she would be punished… or maybe the fact that she was standing there all alone on her birthday was proof enough that God had punished her!!! Funny she had thought of God as a SHE… probably her feminism streak was influencing even the unquestioned and unanswered… She slackened her neck muscles and looked out on to the surroundings bathed in the silvery moonlight… She was working late… today as well… From her room at the office the view was mesmerizing! It more or less reminded her of her roots… the ways God found to keep one grounded in their life!!! Every time she looked out at the sun setting, a golden ball in the far horizon, it reminded ...

"He loves me… He loves me not… He loves me… He loves me not… He loves me… He loves me not…!!! The same litany has been playing over my head for the past couple of days… Does he love me? Or am I just another person to him?? Does he consider me as significant?? Does he love someone else..?? Is someone else more important to him than I am? I am sure he loves me… I am sure he considers me important… Has he not told me that himself so many times… Every time I snuggle up to him and rest my head on his broad shoulders and he soothes away the creases on my forehead with his hands, Every time I hold his hand and he looks at me with those patient eyes willing me to open myself up to him… Every time I find excuses to be near him and just have him touch me… be it a ruffling of the hair, a tweaking of the nose, a pat on the back, a tug on my ponytail, or just plain holding my hand to show solidarity…. It feels so good… it feels like I belong… it feels like I am wanted… We’ve had fights… and li...

A gust of wind fluttered around her… a chill passed through her spine… she wound her fur-jacket tightly across herself and continued walking… the teardrop that stood like a beaded jewel on her cheek frozen thanks to the wintry weather, spiraled down as though being propelled by the blast of air that enclosed her from all sides…. Her hands grew numb even inside the gloves… she wondered for a minute if it was due to the coldness that crept through her heart or the climate that was threatening to freeze her to death??? Either ways she was going to be cold for a long while… She was nervous!! She who had always been cocksure of everything… she was the confident one… the one who had a solution to every problem… the one who could turn the atmosphere around her to smiles in an instant… the privileged soul whom a lot of them sought to be like… she had EVERYTHING after all… everything that she had ever craved for and some that she did not even long for… but what was she nervous about?? What was ...

Stories that I weave in my head... Yarn that i spin... Threads of dreams... Swatches of reality... All fabricated into a story... A tale... Abstract as it may be... Clear cut as it turns out... They are just knitted yarn!!! [These are just stories that I make up in my head. They do not relate to me or to any other person that I know of. Any resemblance to any person; living or dead or any instance is purely coincidental. ]

You know… sometimes I feel like I did a big mistake with this blog… Like I write a truthful but carefully edited version… or like I am trying to please all and sundry about what I am writing in the blog… or that which I am going to write… Before I even put something in as a post, it goes through a zillion edits… cut this word out… change this word... Don’t put in that sentence… what would he/she think if they read your blog and found out you said this about them… oops… that would be a big blunder… More often than not, I come across stuff that I really want to write in my blog about… incidents that have happened in my life… stuff that I would like to warn other people from not doing… a stray occurrence here… an event there… and this happens almost every day… millions of moments that I find.. Zillions of stuff that I read about… hundreds of instances that I want to pen… scores of people I want to write about… but the editing process begins again..! I wonder why..!! I mean why can’t I wri...