Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Behind every NEVER, there is an IF

Life is beautiful when we let it go. Sometimes it is worthy to forget the world and live in the moments of giggles and smiles. If we begin to have anxiety attacks over every small thing we do, we will loose our junky funky life because behind every ‘NEVER’ there is an ‘IF’…

If a boy is afraid of father’s punishments, he will never regret his mistakes
If a student is worried of grades, he will never enjoy his learning
If a girl is worried about scolding, her mom will never be her best friend
If a girl is scared of looking like a fool, she will never make any friends

If a girl is scared of thorns, she will never pluck a rose
If a girl is fearful of getting hurt, she will never know love
If a driver is worried of accidents, he will never drive a vehicle

If a wife is doubtful of her husband, she will never get his trust
If an architect is worried of earth quake, he will never built a house
If an eater is worried of diarrhea, he will never eat tasty
If a man is worried of thunder, he will never enjoy rain

If a girl is worried of divorce, she will never marry anyone
If an employee is worried of salary, he will never enjoy his work
If a player is afraid of loosing, he will never know winning
If a soldier is scared of attacks, he will never join an army

If a speaker is worried of grammar, he will never use the language
If a writer is worried of readers, he will never take up his pen
If a man is afraid of wild, he will never explore any forest
If a stalker is worried of hacking, he will never log on to facebook

If a devotee is afraid of God, he will never love his God
If a woman is worried of society, she will never conquer any heights
If a researcher is scared of research, she will never do blogging
If a poet is concerned of his thoughts, he will never write a poem

If you are worried of your actions, you will never live in moments
If we are afraid of death, we will never live our life
Because the fear of death is worse than death itself
And sometimes, the right thing to do is not doing the right thing


So be the naughtiest among all, break your bones,  
remember to breathe, smile at strangers, eat from stalls,
 dance in the rain, trust your intuitions, stand and stare,  
fall in love, fight with your guy, reconcile with a hug, 
narrate your stories, shed those tears, taste its salt, 
kiss your nose and smile to yourself.  
Life is on those brims

Monday, June 25, 2012

Ray of Hope

Have you ever given your thought to what it would be if you could escape through a tunnel to reach another world and live as the only being of existence?  It is certain that all of us would have buried it somewhere in us, with those deep sighs; while crossing roads to reach no where and realizing that the world is nothing better than a place to get deceived. 

When life turns out to be nothing more than a strategy, with no magic to wonder at or no tales to tell about, only with responsibilities and no fun, you may feel like running away to some corner of the earth, may be to a dense forest or to a hill top and remain hidden. And some other times if, going gets tougher than you could ever imagine, and you realize there is no more oxygen to inhale in this world, all that you  need would be an ending, a disconnection.


Ironically, the truth is that, you may decide to walk alone to the sunset (for unknown reasons), bidding farewell to yourself and the world, still you know, you can’t DO it. You may act like a child and feel insecure. You may have doubts and feel immature; still you can’t DO it because even though the world is an ugly place, it is the only beautiful place to live. Life may have lot of loose ends but, it cannot be broken with a tug because those strings are very much attached. 


You may be in decline, breaking the waves. 
You may be in darkness, watching the sunset. 
You may be lost at sea. 
But no matter how far you row, 
you will always find the way back home, 
because….



Someone is still standing at the porch
Waiting for your return

Someone is still not eating dinner
Waiting  to have it along with you

Someone is still not sleeping without your call
Waiting to hear from you that, ‘everything is fine’

 Someone is still not without a birthday dress
Waiting to receive your money order

Someone is still earning hard day and night
Waiting to give you the semester fee without due

Someone is still looking into the mobile without sleep,
 Waiting to get your ‘Good night’ message

Someone is still hesitating to start the day
Waiting to get your glimpse and wishes

Someone is still looking forward to your posts
Waiting to read your words and live between the lines

Someone is still living at your mercy, kindness
Waiting to get you back in their life

And hence you can neither end nor walk away 
Putting your loved ones on hold and waiting

 The life is beautiful till the day; 
you have that last someone exists in the world 
to mourn at the loss of your life

Hold on 
to that
 Ray of Hope



Thursday, June 21, 2012

When Silence Speaks....

How beautifully does a shore understand the language of sea, the tree listen to the whispers of its leaves, the baby vibrate to the voice of its mother, the dawn wake up to the call of its darling birds, the earth give its ears to the rains of the sky.. They do all the talking without a language or script. Hadn’t you felt awesome in the way some people look at you, they convey you through their gestures and when you see all the tales in their eyes?

when eyes speak all the tales of the world

With some people in some situations, we really do not need a language to communicate. Those are the instances where language becomes nothing more or less than a formality. A stare, a touch, a kiss, a wink, a smile, a tear, a hum, a laughter…is all what that really matters, not always, but at least in some of those days of our life.

Hadn’t you experienced such moments in life where emotions overpower your heart and you run in short of words. And when it begins to grow beyond the periphery of certain fondness, despair or longingness, silence takes away all the eloquence. The innocence of a child, the smile of a stranger, opening an unread message, dreaming about that someone special, reading a beautiful novel, writing a letter with the doubt of posting it, watching a cloud on the sky, taking  hot water shower on a rainy day, tying up those divine knots, wrapping up the surprise gift for a friend on his birthday, eating mother’s food, taking a deep breath, praying with a sigh heart,  crying in the shower, falling in love, discovering a beautiful track…above all, those moments of Yoga, Dhayana, meditation..….do we have a better term to define such beautiful moments other than ‘silence’. Without uttering a word, a sentence we experience the best moments in life because the best of it happens only in silence.

the silence is bliss

 Once, one of my friends shared me an experience from her love life. She fell seriously in relationship with a guy, whom she couldn’t understand completely. The only thing she knew was she loved him when he proposed her. He cared her sometimes and avoided her at other times. She was confused, perplexed and disheartened. Sooner she began to know that his love is not true and she is only an option for him in his times of need. But the realization has not made any difference. Even though she knew it was true, she didn’t want to believe it. 

Now she began to fall in love with him all the more while he still remained the same. She said, “The more I hate, the more I love”. When she began to hear about his encounters with another woman she reacted in all her loud voices. She cried, wept, yelled, accused, grumbled, advised and begged to him in all those good and bad words. But nothing has changed. It has only made him go more and more away from her.

She began to grow tired of arguing, fighting, crying and thereby hurting herself day and night. When everything went hopeless and she learnt that he is much far than she could reach, she took a decision to quit and stay out of his life, leaving all her way for the silence to overcome. From next sunrise, in the place of those100 text messages which she sends him everyday, he received none; in the missed call log, where he normally received maximum calls of her, there were some other names.

As days went on, he began to feel the space, the gap, the darkness and ultimately the silence that was creeping into his life. With half of the heart which has not loved anything, he began to miss her. Her silence began to hurt him much more than her words ever could. His thoughts started to get occupied with her so much that he was no more interested in any other women. The presence of others reminded him too much of her absence. Every beep, miscall, text message alerted him of her silence. The days went on without getting even a slight glimpse of her. The music system in the car played the songs she had given, her photographs, the cards, his blue mug; the leather wallet in his pocket, the adjustable car seat….everything described him of her silence. The quieter she went, the louder her things got around him. 

After a while, it was deafening and when he knew it began to eat his soul and give him an emotional trauma, he came back to her with an open heart which was soft enough to regret and reconcile …this time not because it is a physical need, but because it was emotional and he wanted to save his heart. She accepted him with a smile…a smile in silence, realizing that there are times in our lives we don’t need to be vague nor fight over issues; JUST SILENCE will fight for us.  

Sometimes in life, with some people, when words fail to shower, stab and kneel, silence is the best weapon.  When words give you only skinned knees and broken hearts, all that we have to do is to speak, speak aloud in the reminiscence of silence… the silence that can break a wind and stop those seas, the silence that can bring the tears and skip the beats. Yes, that indefinite, intangible, eternal silence….

Yes, silence is in the 
cool waiting bench, the stillness of the cup and coffee, the late breakfast
, a lone long night drive, the rain dropped window glass, the squeaking train stops,
 the blinking lights, the spinning skies, the last kiss, the fleeting fingertips, 
the zooming lens, oscillations of the swing, the pages of the unknown book, 
echo inside a forest, the church bells, the unsent letters, the erased pencil markings, 
the breathing words, the winks of your cat the unhatched egg, unborn foetus, 
the mirage, the trembling earth, the smoker’s puff, the candle light,the silent night, 
the edges of words,, those fallen leaves,  
and 
           in the  memories of…………

Monday, June 18, 2012



When it is told that 'Better late than never',

How can I forget to write about those times, when you remain as the 'first man' of my life?
How can I forget the smiles that you made in me, by throwing me up in the air and catching back safe?
How can I forget the little me, who watched those good old movies lying on your lap?
How can I forget the motorbike rides, where you tagged me in the front of it like a princess?
How can I forget the veranda steps, where I sat waiting for hours to hear your motor cycle buzz?

How can I forget the special packets you brought for me in the evenings, whenever you returned home?
How can I forget the school uniforms, which you ironed for me just because you didn't want me to do it?
How can I forget the second show movies, where I cuddled upon your chest like a kitten?
How can I forget the times where you didn't allow me to get in kitchen, just because you had the fear of me burning
 my fingers and cutting my hands?

How can I forget the outings that you made for me on my study holidays, just because you wanted me to relax?
How can I forget the times where you called me out of study room, just because my favorite song was playing on television?
How can I forget the teenager days of my life, where you dropped me in school and waited hours together to pick me back from those tuition classes?
How can I forget the unplanned trips which you made for me all of a sudden, just because I was feeling bored?
How can I forget the sleeplessness, which  you had on that night before the day, I was leaving to hostel for the first time?
How can I forget the platforms, where you stood so keenly with me, till my train came and went out of your sight? 

How can I forget the college excursions, where you were too anxious to permit me and yet gave me just because it was my wish?
How can I forget the Sunday afternoons, where you drove me back all the way from home to hostel, just because I had too much of luggage?
How can I forget the text messages, which you sent me whenever I stepped away from you?
How can I forget the expressionless face of you, whenever you had to say me a Bye?
How can I forget the tea stalls and hotels, which we explored and stopped by, while going for those long drives?
How can I forget the lazy roads and mango trees, under which we stopped and searched for mangoes?

How can I forget the restaurants where you took me in, just because you felt it tasty and you didn't want me to miss?
How can I forget the smile of you, whenever mummy grumbled out that I am a 'daddy's girl'? 
How can I forget the times, when people asked you about my marriage and you gave a mild reply, “She is too young for it?”
How can I forget the support, which you gave to me whenever I was worried about my Research work?
How can I forget the Big day, on which you had to leave me to another man and you walked away with a lump on your heart?
How can I forget the bond, which I have with you when I am getting tears while writing this?
How can I forget the Father's Day, when I have a daddy, who has been taking care of me like an apple of his eye for the past 25 years?

I don't want to say you a 'Thank you'...
I don't want to say you an 'I love You' ....
I don't want to say you that 'You are the Best father',
Because we know that we are much above such Reassurances,
And we know nothing has changed and nothing will


Saturday, June 16, 2012

Is it Art or HeArt?

Just when you think that everything in life is heading to a dot, every single cell and nerve of your body reminds that, ‘you are sick’, every ‘feeling true emotion tear you apart, every prayer go unanswered, every hope is dumped upon ‘what If’s, every dreams turn out to be a nightmare, all the things fall apart and life couldn’t be anymore in the path where you want it to be, God gives you a loose thread to hang upon. A thread that connects you to everything, that ever was meant to be redemption, a resurrection.


Hanging on to loose threads
When you feel that ‘time’ began to live your life with its healing medicines, you get a much more clearer vision of the thread, hanging right in front of you. You hold on to it without knowing the reasons, without knowing the rules but just for something to hang upon, loosely and lightly in the air. Slowly you began to realize that the thread which has liberated you is taking you to a new realm, a new space, a new surface This is known as the 'World of Art'



the realm where art discovers its hearts

You reach in the 'world of art' for the first time, you wouldn’t see anything other than some strange figments of imagination and those bits and pieces of tunes, words and images. You hum to those tunes, discover a paper and pen or screen and keys with which you begin to create pictures in your words. And to me, this is the divine process of ‘art discovering its artists’. It is all about the magic and power of art. It approaches you as a therapy. It heals you as a medicine. It gets into your body rediscovering every nerve and cell. Finally it transforms you into an artist, healed and cured. Sooner you realize people at the other end of the thread, who are good hearted, ready to listen and share the same frequency of your thoughts. Now you are more healed with those loved ones, who realizes you that 'you are unique, out of the ordinary and you have something in you which is not in others'. It sets your journey to 'reach the unreached'

If I were a happiest girl of this world who had met only good people, got only love and smiles and lived up all the expectations, I would not have really discovered where happiness lies.Fortunately or unfortunately, I am not one and so I blog, I write. I write for myself. I write for others. I write for those words which are yet to born and see the light of this world. I write for the sake of writing. I write because I want to keep those stones and pebbles out of my head and fill in the garden….Above all, I write because I am blessed to have people who are ready to listen to me. Moreover, when I move my pen and let it go, there is a peace – a peace that overwhelms me in the quite moments, that fills the lungs with air and eyes with tears because of the beauty it brings.  

Tragedies and Melancholies come up not only in the life of artists. It chases all, some live it as criminals, while others live it as Gods, some live it as patients, while others live it as Doctors, and some live it as victims while others live it as artists. The moment a problem is born, its solution too. It comes into your life in different shapes and series, may be as a loosely hanging thread, an unlearnt art, unheard words, unheard music, unknown people or unseen music. Life is strange because it has thorns which pricks you to Red and still scents you as sweet as a Rose.
 We hit all those unknown ways to fall down to rise up to fall down to rise up and thereby rediscovering the way. When it is done, we all need to have a space, an outlet to dump out those ‘darkness’ , negative feelings, depressions and to born anew - a space which is somewhere between a paper and pen or in the middle of that screen and keys ;a redeeming outlet which transforms those depressions into creativity. We discover it somewhere between a sunset and sunrise without knowing that we are actually discovering.

 We are all stories in the end and it is one such story, POST SANDHYA ERA, yes the name speaks it all. The work by one of a friend of friend, Lenin Subhash , who has built up an art out of his stress to discover the artist in him, transformed his sadness into creativity, accumulated his tears behind those camera and lens and made the ‘short film – post sandhya era’ out of life’s better and bitter, just as another ‘Karthik’ of ‘Vinnithandi Varuvaya’… When you seek a ‘HEART’ the God takes way the ‘HE’ (or a SHE) from it and leaves you with an ART. The only thing is that you must have an eye to see and accept it without brooding over life just for the loss of a ‘HE’ or ‘SHE’.




P.S : Live life to its fullest because you are capable of doing it till the day you can breath. Live and yell out to the world that you exist. Let the generations talk about you for at least once in their life. 

Friday, June 8, 2012

Feeling at Home

As we always say, there is nothing as much great as ‘feeling at home’. What does it really mean?

Is it the smile of those green plants which takes you to the home or the red door mat which welcome you right away?  Is it the pure aroma which comes from kitchen or those murmurs coming behind doors which you can spot out in no time?  Is it the staircase leading you to the bedroom doors or those pink curtains displayed around, which may even know your name?

Yes, it is the overall effect of our favorite surroundings and dear ones, we love.
My abode is my Paradise
This is what happens when I reach my bedroom….
If the happiness comes out of comfort; my comfort zone would be at its best.  The comfort, which is much more than world’s costliest five star hotels, can offer. I unwind….I relax… A minute later or two, my hair catching clip would be seen hanging on the pinky curtain, duppattas along with the bed spreads, books dumped in the corners, display of coffee mugs on the table,  remains of chips packets here and there and what not, without missing a single thing, each and everything gets messed up, misplaced and disordered. But I religiously believe that it is the process of merging…merging of me and my belongings into my surrounding. By the end of day, when I look around, I feel all the solace of the world in my tiny room…a feel at peace and I realize I am at Home. This is a freedom which you can’t get anywhere else, but only at your door, your home...  The place I take shelter, when life seems gray and sick.

             a corner to unwind, undo and be the self
 A Home is Home because it brings out the memories of several ‘first moments’ and sentiments, which you can’t relate to anything else. The walls and roofs which had seen you growing up…the doorways and window panes which had shown  you the days and nights, the cozy bed ,huggable pillows, which had known your tears and smiles, the green plants and trees, which had grown up along with you … above all, those only shoulders on which you can rely in your good and bad times . Yes, lovable parents who protects you as if you are a just born.


It is the place from where I had learnt, light is Day and night is Dark, the place where I had known Rain is Rain and Thunder is Thunder, the place from where I knew I got all the senses intact and yet I can live…to be more precise, the place where I can breathe once and live twice.


 P.S: The place where I learnt Mohanlal is a superstar,watched Chitram to infinity, grown up with my love to rain & Gandharvan and hummed Vaishka Sandhyea for the first time…The place to which I can never say a Goodbye because I know wherever I go, this is the place I long to come back..Home is the beginning and end of one’s destiny…

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Happy Monsoon

It is the season to lend ears to the sound of raindrops and take a sip of hot coffee.

It is the season to listen to beautiful melodies and peep out at the damp grass and soaked leaves.

It is the season to be out of four walls and feel the smell of wet soil.
 It is the season to open windows and look out at the earth, which is green, green and greener. When sky showers the love to its darling Earth, we stay as mute spectators and sing to our hearts.


It is the season of sore throats and running nose. I know,I would consume dosage of antibiotics to get cured, but that is not going to change anything.I can't get out of my obsession with rain.

It is the season to walk with bare foot and feel those mud puddles. 


It is the season of umbrellas and those paper boats.

Yes, it is the season to fall asleep in tune of rainy night lullabies and get up to those freeze mornings in a sweet realization that ‘it is a rainy day’.

It is the season for romanticist to create epics of love and rain.

It is the season to cuddle up with a packet of chips and read those favorite fancies and fictions.

It is the season to do nothing but sit listening to the pitter patter of rain as it hits the porch and windows. Let our minds wander to that happy place which we rarely visit.

It is the season to cozy up…either a cozy partner or a comfortable blanket. The choice is yours.

It is the season of rain, thunders, lightning with some love and a little ‘nothingness’

It is the season of insanity, illogic and madness.
The season, where my alter ego is super excited

Through the half open window of my heart, I stare out and all I see is YOU, my love, my rain…my monsoon. It is June. It is monsoon…

It is our season…a season to reminisce Thoovanathumbikal, Clara, and love


Happy Monsoon Kerala



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