A perfect flower

Only nature's creation can be perfect...a flower is a flower, each petal a mark of perfection, the feel, the smell...it is the absolute sensory delight. The colours, shapes, fragrances may vary but they are just superficial effects, the beauty is in the soul of the flower; it is the happiness it exudes in its beauty which gives it the perfection. The joy of looking at a flower is bountless. It stays with you forever. The flower withers but the joy it imparts stays on. The timeless beauty...

Reality sucks

In my thoughts I  achieve so much; I swim across oceans, give speeches to a standing ovation, solve complex math problems, find love, dazzle people with innovations, be a star... and yet reality falls so short. These are not impossible feats. If only I could bring out even half of what an individual is capable of.
Aah...I should just stop thinking.....

Only friends

What was supposed to be a fun occasion turned out to be just that, but not only that..fun had brought some accompaniments. It brought with it moments of regret, envy, sadness and helplessness. After an evening of laughter I went home with a heavy heart. I met my ex-colleagues recently. There were the usual hugs and oh u ve put on weight...and whatz up etc.... I watched them and realised that I was not in the group any more. Of course, friendship was intact but the bond that comes by sharing the same workplace was gone. They discussed colleagues and work as usual, only I was not part of it anymore. It is so tough to let go. I wanted to be a part of their world. But I had lost that privilege. We were just friends...

Afghan Star

Setara is made of stuff that makes a person stand apart from ordinary mortals. Her feat may not sound extraordinary. She is neither an astronaut nor the CEO of any top-notch company. All she did was dance. This Afghan girl dared to dance in a show which was watched by one-third of the country's population. I saw a documentary on Nat Geo about the singing contest 'Afghan Star' in war-torn Afganistan. The girl contestant Setara brought tears to my eyes for the sheer guts she displayed by dancing on TV with her veil slipping down her head. Her bravery is so inspiring. Watching her I feared for her life. Many Afghans shared my view and many openly issued death threats, calling her act totally unislamic. Right from the girl who dares to wear a pair of jeans, where salwar kameez is the norm, to the girl who refuses to give dowry are the real heroes for womankind, their seemingly small acts of courage pave the way for major upheavals. These are people who dared, who dared to think and act out of the box...

I can fly

I remember a day in summer in kerala. I must have been five or six then. I was waiting at a bus stop and there was this shop next to it selling grocery, fruits, cold drinks: well, a bit of everything. It had a drink called 'Fly', in orange color, and I couldn't take my eyes off it. I was sure then that if I drank that drink I could fly. I imagined drinking and soaring up, up, up. 

State of I

Is laziness fatal? Oh my god, no cure? Then I hope it's contagious! One nice lazy world would be so blissful....

How much land do I need?

I need land big enough to hold 4(or 2) big trees, 2 humans, a well, and some space to plant vegetables. I do not mind being dependant on the socio-economic network to provide me with the essentials and luxuries but I need a backup just in case the whole system breaks down. I don't want to be a part of the mayhem when water becomes a very scarce commodity and people everywhere, especially in the cities fight over it.
I want a mango tree with a nice canopy, a small house made of wood. Thodi si zameen, thoda aasmaan, thinko ka bas ek aashiya...I will reap my freedom on this land, it will give me my piece of sky and my share of stars and the moon too.

Being mallu

I woke up on Thursday feeling very mallu. Now, this was not as bad as getting chicken pox. Being a mallu means doing different things differently, especially on an exclusive mallu festival day like Vishu. On such days it becomes real hard to turn away from this lineage. Early enthusiastic morning calls from god's own country or god's own people from the other parts of the country reminded me of my mallu duties.
This vishu I was lost in memories of my yearly visits to my native place(kulapully in palakkad district) as a child. The visits are still undertaken but things are different. Have I changed or time? Maybe both...My remembrances of kerala are green (in every way); I can feel the dampness and sexuality in the air, the smell of steaming rice, coconut ...also the smell of burning firewood and still hear the crackling sound of burning wood. I see a much younger mom trying to cook on firewood, the luxury of a gas stove left behind in the city. The overpowering sound of crickets, frogs crying out at night as if telling humans to shut up "you did all the talking in the daytime now it's our turn"... The anticipation of snakes' heads popping out from the million holes all around... Touch me nots... who can forget those hours spent in troubling these sensitive plants. The change in the body language in my parents was palpable then...a new confidence in their NRM (Non Resident Mallu) struts. The excitement of getting up in the morning to explore the flora and fauna around made nights seem long. The villagers giving us undeserving attention and adulation....The feel of wood, mud..catching dragonflies and the kuzhi aanas(literally translated - hole elephants)- those little bugs which are found in holes dug in loose dry mud. Delicious natural smelling food...pure water...nature's sounds..the sound of women drawing water. Dad in mundu(dhoti). . the traditional clothes, the sandalwood paste on most people's forhead...Those visits to relatives' dressed in our best..Looking for fox droppings and feeling very excited on seeing one as though having spotted a tiger . The omnipresent coconut trees and the multitude vines and shrubs, each with its own special quality. The stories of ghosts, elephants and snakes narrated by one and all...Ponds, paddy fields and the smell of fried fish wafting from the kitchen...Early morning baths..giggling girls talking in hushed tones.. the list is endless, as are the memories...happy smiles and content life everywhere...is all the same?...if so, why can't I see...make me a child again...