Space.

Attempts to create, to etch an image of memory on the canvas of passing time.
Efforts to accumulate wealth, wellness and well wishers in the odyssey of life. Dreams to conceive, goals to achieve. Battles to win. Journeys to begin. All things rosy, All things pretty come and fall in the lap of living. A void remains.

A haunting fact that exists in the disappearance of the missing world when the eyelids of ignorance close on the eyes of knowledge drives home a point We all miss - There's nothing without when the identity of truth ceases to exist within
and what we see melts into oblivion, reminding us of the illusions we live in.

Recur.

Aarti seems to have taken after me on many fronts, except loving food of course (and her dainty frame explains why) And one of the many fronts that she has taken after me, is the love for music and the want to listen to some favourites on repeat. The song Turtle Dove, for some weird, unknown reason makes her very calm and meditative. She can be in her worst "I am going to throw a tempest like tantrum" mood and Turtle dove can make her take and about turn to " I am the sweetest, most manageable toddler walking on the earth" mood.

Just a few hours ago, she lulled herself to sleep in the over sized leather rocker listening to Turtle dove playing in BOSE lifestyle. I had a break clearing up the kitchen and doing the dishes. The moment I popped the CD into the player , her tender face wore the expression of eternal bliss and she could care less about cuddling, reading a book or listening to a story like she normally does before going to sleep.



Fare thee well my dear I must be gone

And leave you for a while

Though I roam away I'll come back again

Though I roam 10 thousand miles,

My dear Though I roam 10 thousand miles....



A see a personality, a little person with a big signature of who she is and what she likes and dislikes. Love for music, love for lip balm, nail polish, flowers, babies, black olives, aquariums, gold fish, french fries, apple wedges, curd rice, sunshine, outdoors and the list goes on.

More than all these things, the one thing that surprises me is her love for freedom, for individuality. No matter how clingy she gets when she needs me, she always tries to tackle her little chores and cares all by herself, independently.
Now I am not sure where she inherited that from - probably form her dad or her maternal aunts, definitely not from Mom.

Things seem to play in repeat here in our household, from music to blog entries, Love repeats itself - sometimes in the form of an English folk song and sometimes donning the costumes of words, love revolves around repeats - recurs that only get sweeter with every time they circle infinitely in the loops of life.






















Fare thee well my dear I must be gone

And leave you for a while

Though I roam away I'll come back again

Though I roam 10 thousand miles, My dear

Though I roam 10 thousand miles

Repair.

"C" pops out falling prey to little fingers - curious, destructive or plain bored. No clue why! I collect the bits of the key like a little girl treasuring her tooth to barter it for some moolah. On a different note, tooth fairies are morons! Don't you think? I place all the wee parts together. The key doesn't seem to find its usual spring. It gets stuck in an awkward angle printing "x" or "v" instead of itself. So "c" ends up in an identity crisis. I interwine to do something about the situation. The look and learn, I pry out "b" and break its dainty back. Now I grapple with both B and C. I grapple in present continous tense.

For the time being, my laptop looks like a young girl with two alternate front teeth knocked out. The keys with the delicate skeletons sit on the night stand carefully placed on the top of a bottle of Tylenol hoping for a laptop fairy to come and trade them for some bucks. I wish to wake up and find permanent keys grow back :-)

Wishful thinking also calls for wishing not to create one problem in hopes of solving another. "Re-Pair, Re-Think"

A bit of this, a bite of that!

Sometimes it doesn't happen. No matter what! The inspiration to write is like an urge to eat probably. Just yesterday I had this urge to eat a sandwich that is supposed to have an Indian flair to it. What did I do? Hunted the place down that was relocated to downtown Pleasanton and satisfied my craving. I wish writing a blog, or writing anything for that matter, was that simple. Or is wanting to eat something very simple? No I might say. I can have a gallon of luscious sweet cream and cake batter flavored ice cream form Coldstone right there in the freezer but it might not tempt me one little bit. Sometimes I just go to coldstone at close to midnight hoping for a miraculous extended summer hour and come back cussing (moderately:-)) everyone and everything responsible for the closed doors excepting yours truly and her unusual cravings for unusual things at unusual times.
Back to where I started and what I wanted to say, blogging is a bit like eating. You eat and enjoy or you eat just to exist. This is eating to exist. That's all ! I guess!

Just like that.

The shutterbug Adorns her neck like a stiff necklace With a heavy pendant, heaving as she runs out in excitement - Like the little girl she is trying to capture.

A carpet of lush green blades unfold before her like the smile of the cynosure
that poses for the flash with mock expressions.

The earth shivers gently, every time those pair of feet jump up and down.
The shutter bug makes a desperate attempt to snatch a moment or two
from the passing time and freeze them on the lens of memories. Bushes in full bloom bask in the warmth of the evening light. Pollen files in the air causing a sneeze, a tear ,a discomfort in the lungs.

Everything seems worthwhile, everything seems wonderful, notwithstanding the cough, the sore throat, the stuffy nose, the watery eyes, the loss of appetite.

For the images captured are worth a million such allergies.

Creation

Not every picture is worth a thousand words. Consider this one to your left.

To be continued.

Illusions

The horizon.
The city that looks like an open circuit
Form the view above.
Make believe amour.
Mirage like affection,
Deceptions of depictions
Of love, Of longing.
Transient titillations,
Turbulent vows.
Like a mask,
Over the ever pretending world around
Illusions make reality
Look like an illusion.
Beautifully bizarre.
Bizarrely beautiful
Untrue, Unreal, Unending
In a tale that only exists
In imaginations.

Mystery.

A pair of eyes
Looking at her
In the illuminated space.
They meet.
A thought sprouts
A familiarity dawns
Forlorn gazes
Feeling her features
With a tinge of anonymity
A tingle of mystery
Peepers fixed on the object of admiration
Wander all over her candle-lit face,
Failing to recognise an image
That looks back at her
Every time she gazes into the mirror -
For sometimes the greatest of mysteries,
The strangest of strangers
Are right there
In one's own reflection!

Start.

I am on a journey that I embarked ages ago.

I am on a quest
To find,
To discover,
To attain
Something that looks near
But feels so distant.

I fail
I fall
I falter.
I start all over again.
Neither irked
Nor irritated
Only to start
Again
And Again.

Dreams bubble
in the heat of hopes
Bubble in hundreds of tiny passions
To reach a goal
Set near enough
but far apart.

A day on the deck.

I could have won some sort of a prize on the deck of carnival Elation. The prize of being the most 'covered' person around, if you discount my Saree clad mother-in-law that sat on one of the benches watching over our beach bags filled with heavy towels, sunscreen and a lot of things that got stuffed into the over sized bag by cruise enthusiasts such as me and Sneha :-)
I did not dream of using the water proof capris and active tees till a sudden inspiration to let Aarti play in the pool water hit me on the pleasantly sunny afternoon on Elation. I was dressed in a black cargo and a loose fitting embroidered white peasant top before I rushed to my state room to gather Aarti's swimsuit, her life jacket and to change into the swim gear of the century.
I probably looked like a black sheep in the sea of scantily clad bodies swimming and sun-worshipping on the deck with shielded eyes and stripped (almost) bods.
My two piece bikini was a capri that showed off the skin below my knees and a full hands active tee whose neck line would put a nun's gown to shame. I was engrossed in the moment, cursing myself for not carrying a book with me. I did get into the water. A little girl aged no more than three gave me a weird look when I got into the water dressed the way I was dressed. I tried to ignore her freckled face and those fiery red tresses. I couldn't. Nor could I stop my eyes from wandering around the expanse of the generous deck in a preoccupied trance. I thought about the culture. The people. The difference in thoughts, actions, preferences, principles, lifestyles, outlooks, approaches, paradigms and a lot more things that were blocked in an attempt to enjoy seeing my little girl playing in water like Ariel, the mermaid.
The rest of the gang got on to the water slide. I just sat there resisting the taunts to join them. I didn't want to. I was happy cogitating in my own world, looking at the crowd of my universal brothers and sisters sporting bright hued spandex that accented their skins in an art like fashion. Every one seemed to be lost in a world of elation savoring a moment that would trap in the valves of their heart bringing them the warmth of the sun and the cool of the waters for many a day to come. Cameras flashed competing (and losing) with the laughter of little kids sliding on the huge water slide, splashing jumbo drops of joy all around.
I sat there, in my outstanding black bikini, with my outstanding thoughts skimming through the sea of faces, each trying to unfold to me a new story, an interesting story about confidence, dreams and a single yearning to capture a heap of memories in a world that was concised in the deck of a not so big cruise ship.
I sat there for the rest of the afternoon, skipping my lunch, for I was feasting on the joy of being in the middle of the Pacific, the clear blue sky forming a definition above the heavens that reflected in the colorless waters below, banishing the blues away form the deck. The blue of the sky, the sea and the pool, in amalgamation, created a brand new hue, the hue of happiness.

It is here.

My Valentine Day gift got a bit tardy this time around. It arrived here on the 16th instant. I chose and paid for it with my Amex that will be paid by Sarat. So technically it is a gift he got me though he doesn't have a clue of anything except, perhaps, the price. LOL.

The MWS-1840 model made by Franklin came with a nifty companion - The ultra sleek and portable book-mark dictionary. I being the bargain hunter I am, refuse to pay retail for for most things I buy barring stuff like flour and rice :-) So after hunting for coupons and codes, I'd found this for $30 off retail plus the $50 worth freebie thrown in. The utterly opposite appearing siblings sit by the night stand, tucked in one of the many little pouches that was hibernating in a paper bag under the bathroom sink. The discovery of the pouch in question saved me the trouble to sew one myself.

Aarti seems to be endlessly fascinated by both the thingies. So I'd not really had a chance to play around with them. I am all geared up to get acquainted with PG Wodehouse now, since I'd missed running into him during those numerous trips back and forth in the dust laden isles of our school library.

So here goes my prophecy. I might end up learning a word or two. What does that mean to you? It means to you that I might actually start to stop being so repetitive with my words. And who knows? Wodehouse might actually sprinkle a seed or two in my clayed brain after adding a thought of some soil conditioner to break the clay loose. Then the rocket science of writing blogs might actually become a simple task of enjoying a piece of cake. So, so kindly, kind readers, I might actually prove myself of being worthy of your time and attention without compromising on originality - I humbly promise!