Day 26 - Z for Zephyr

Ride, this one

Amid fields of musings

Exclamations, interjections, Gasps

Tears, smiles, pains

Curated moments

Etched deep into the being

Like tattoos - intricate, interwoven

Permanence inflicted on to the flesh

Worn like medals of survival.

This mortal image

Bearing the weight of the spirit

Shackling its scope

Treading through terrains of turmoil

The end all, the destiny

Mocks in the distance

Like a mirage.

What amounts of this trek?

A revelation perhaps,

Zephyr of hope

Breezing through the maze of dispair

Incarnate in subtlety

Gently easing the many scalds

Zephyr of love, of compassion

Alleviating the brutal blows

Of a battle named Life.

Pic Courtesy - Chaithanya Kanni

Day 25 - Y for Yearning

(A fresh perspective on midlife crisis)

We all have our rooted passions, and these are not the ones that come and go...I am speaking about the ones that probably sprouted in you while you were being manufactured in the mother's womb. For instance, I loved words for as long as I can remember. And trust me, I remember like an elephant. (And no, there is no subtle form reference here, though on second thoughts, it might look like there is) Any new, novel, alien sound that traveled to my eardrum made it to a permanent camping space in my mind. The next obviously logical thing was to put them to use and thus my yearning to write was born. I glorified words all my life. Made them my center stage. I flattered myself while playing with them with narcissistic aplomb, never getting enough of my own expression and then tricking myself into believing that I am here to change the face of articulation and create master pieces. Life happened then and things were put in perspective. Now I look at my works as mediocre at their best and barf inducing at their worst and I mean it with all my sincerity. Not an ounce of false modesty, I swear (And I do not swear (figuratively or literally ;-)) often) Grin.

And this isn't the point anyway, of this ponder of mine. So I'll not digress and get to the point. The other day, I was looking through the window of my nook to spot what looked like Godzilla's shoe boxes constructed in redwood, cramped into our modest Northern California backyard, if you know how that looks. For a moment I thought It was my rampant imagination, but  to get a grip on what I just saw, I walked out to be greeted by Aurturo, our ever smiling gentleman of a gardener armed with his power drill, putting together another plank over the Godzilla shoe box - and yes there were more than one of the shoe boxes, to a point where the front yard had one too, to the side and  my respite in CA suburbs, those ravishing Hydrangeas were re-potted into cumbersome, industrial grade planters and appointed around the Almond tree in the front. So you know, aesthetics don't amount to much when some passions are raging.  At this point I didn't know what to react to or what visuals to process. The strip of our green grass, that was the nature lover's other respite in the cramped CA suburb, quiet literally bit the dust while piles of what smelled like a chicken coop married to horse stable smelling dirt was slathered on it.
Voila - and I meet our new vegetable beds. I thanked my lucky stars that my reactions are often slow and controlled or I'd have probably wailed and passed out in the combined effect of the visual horror and the accompanying aromatherapy effects of the compost rich potting soil. All these years of knowing and accurately mapping the man of the house, I resisted the urge to call him and demand answers for destroying the last trace of our carpet grass in the side yard.  Instead, I tried to condition my mind into reminding myself how this guy loves plants probably a tad bit more than or as much as he loves me. A part of me didn't want to confront him and ask him to pick between the vegetable beds or the spouse perhaps out of the fear of rejection. LOL..that was a joke. But you get the drift. I never asked him what qualities in me impressed him, but some of the many endearing qualities of this man are his love for plants and animals. He had this perfectly tended-to collection of succulents when we first met, doing their exotic display to entice some people to a point of no return. And that's how I got on to this road of no return and while treading on it, I  try not to scream when I feel like it , reminding myself that what writing is to me is what gardening is to him. The only primary difference being that this man despises food with a vengeance. Of course don't count ice cream as food and no, the self proclaimed epicure is yet to explore the territory of home made ice cream.

So I made peace with the fact that his midlife crisis is unfolding as an eyesore in the backyard and was secretly thankful of my own invisible counterpart that unfolded in some secure corners of my brains - this love for juvenile fiction. John Green to be specific. Ahem, we'll leave it at that. I promise I won't divulge more of that love or it might put the backyard stink to shame ;-)

So I now resign to my limitations and wait for the late garden to sprout, bud and bloom so that those artichokes, asparagus, cocktail mint, lemon verbena and gourmet baby beets make their appearance in my gastronomic adventures that would be devoured by none. I say none because my plane Jane palate never went beyond the basic south Indian vegetarian fare and I doubt if the man has a palate to begin with. But it is what it is. Passion is passion. There is no ambition attached to it. There is no counting investments and estimating the lucrative benefit alongside passion. That would be blasphemy to look for benefits out of our callings. Elon Musk started Space X to go to Mars. He cared less about getting famous or rich. That is 'Yearning' for starters and we have that in abundance in this household. It flows in balderdash on a virtual space dubbed Blah Blah or it makes a literal manifestation in larger than life proportions in a non existing backyard. It is how life is supposed to be. You'll never get it. Or get it right. We write, we plant, we read, we reap, we stumble, we fall, we pull ourselves up ...and we repeat. And with yearning as a companion, we enjoy every bit of it.

 And I apologize to Mr. Musk for obvious reasons ;-)

Pic courtesy - Dhiren Shan ( to represent my own imagination of how the man of the house imagines his humble garden;-))

Day 24 - X for XOXO

(A Remembrance)

The first time I met him I was barely an adult, newly wed in the land of the free and the brave. He was wheelchair bound, voluntarily retired from his high profile job and in the US to get treated for his rare back problem. He was tall when he stood up, lean like and athlete. His eyes piercing through his bifocals and the flush on his flawlessly translucent skin gave in more than his words. This silent, brooding man caught my attention. We exchanged the pleasantries, the customary ones that the younger generation exchanges with the older. 

Then I met him again. His back maintained its status quo. I was moved to my soul when he and his wife showed up for my kid's first birthday in Hyderabad. The venue had steep windy steps and God knows how he made it up there with his catheter and crutches. His silence maintained his status quo as well. I walked to him, tried to make eye contact while he looked away and smiled. We exchanged a dialogue without eye contact. Unable to express my gratitude in the scope of the non verbal communication, I held his hand for a second, the warmth of his spirit radiated into his ageing hand. Then, perhaps a soul connection was made. What followed was a bond that nourished my essence. 

We became pen friends. Or keypad friends. Due to the time difference, we used to wake up to each other's emails often. It is probably something to do with men and how they find it near impossible to process painful emotions, forget about admitting them, that his emails were always very abstract or mystic. It took a little time,  but somehow, miraculously, the friendship between us transcended a generation, age and gender gap. He used to be a regular at my blog - praising, critiquing, suggesting ways to improve my expression. Parenting advice, life guidance, love for finer things in life, fears, hopes- you name it, we covered it.  Once in a while, when I got fortunate, he used to write me stories with such subtle metaphors - like offering me a road map into his physical struggle or resulting emotional turmoil. All through this journey of ours, I was always spellbound to see his yearning to smile and help others as a superhuman soul quality. His empathy was soul stirring. His integrity as a father of three accomplished kids, a supporting sibling to his sisters after his parents' untimely passing, a true blue soulmate husband and most importantly a human being taught me invaluable lessons in life. Silence was the weapon in his struggle. A yearning to be useful to others was his religion. He taught me purpose without ever preaching about it. He is perhaps the most influential example I stumbled upon in my adult years. 

His every bit of communication became a treasure hunt for me. It made me more nuanced with my understanding of the world and its inhabitants. The way he stood by his kids and spouse amid his own challenges is the stuff that true,unconditional love is made of. The way he gave a part of himself to me through our communication is what I count among my most valuable blessings. If I ever become a quarter of the human being he was, I'll consider my life as a success.

When I sit and meditate on life, He is among the first glimpses that come to me. He had this endearing quirk of communicating in metaphors that gave the 'let's crack this and look for the unsaid' side of me a huge kick. Our conversations covered it all - with such subtle humor, wisdom and warmth and a connection that was probably a sum total of my good fortune.

Every time we drive by the interstate 580, I skip a beat breathing in the enormous landscape punctuated with towering windmills. As I approach them, I gape at their presence and purpose. Uncle KK used the moniker KKTurbine for his email. My spirit senses a whip of his nearness and I smile. They say we are not here for ever and we should work on leaving a legacy that lives on. Sometimes, the legacy we leave back might not be visible or palpable. It might bring in a whole entire meaning to someone, somewhere. If I may dare say so, I am a little fleck of the legacy uncle KK left back and If I dare assume, I hope I'll do my part in leaving it for someone, somewhere and do my part in letting his touch on the earth to linger around a little longer.

XOXO Uncle KK - Thank you for unraveling the meaning of life, love and living. With gratitude, your soul kid.

Pictured - Interstate 580. 

Day 23 - W for Words

There is a dark room

I ponder in

With an open window

Sneak previewing the outsides

I clutch to the railings

my view cutting through the light

Random musings from my mind arise

Some silly, some wise.

I stretch my hand out

To catch a thought 

Tinker it around and call it a plot

I use the blueprint and building blocks

Of words and insights

Pleasures and plights.

My window that opens when all the doors close

Flooding into my spirit morose

The world unfolds its many shades

My insides dance as ideas cascade

What amounts of this life?

This madness this strife?

I cast aside those many cares

Lost in translations

Those sightings on the other side of the grill

Rain drops, sunshine, morning fog

Reincarnated into giddy words.

Tangled existence simplifies in the catharsis

Lending a trellis to the many reflections

Vines of revelations thrive and bloom

And magically bring to my insides

That luminance

From the other side of my window to the world.

With many thanks to Chandra Elango for the pic inspiration.

Day 22 - V for Virtue

What honor
To stumble upon a bond
That reformats life.
A presence that questions you
Shakes you, wakes you
To yourself!

What bliss to turn pages
To the love found in books
Unconditional as a mother’s
Innocent as a child's...
All encompassing as the Almighty’s

What treasure  to unearth
A company that nurtures
Listens, protects
Transforms your existence
Reveals your purpose
Cleanses those stains
Heals those scars...

What fortune of yours
Bestows this blessing upon you
That despite you choosing yourself
It chooses to choose you
This elixir of transformation
A form that fills your craters
Caters to the beginnings of your every joy
Every smile, every happiness

This ultimate prize
I wish upon every soul
I wish that you and I find it
Springing to life from my imagination
Walking beside us, or waking inside of us.

U for Untitled

Unsaid

Undone

Unexpressed -

Unearth those

Speak the unspoken

Unlock those hearts

Live, love, let the unspent affections

Unravel your world

Explore the abandoned paths

Break the shackles of the mind

Unleash the empathy,

Unwind into life!

Day 20 - T for Through

(A lousy metaphorical farce)

Tumbling down to a bemusement

The train of thoughts

Trained to see the light

Tinker around to find peace.

Tangled pathways unravel and

Tired emotions unwind when

These cares, those troubles

Thaw into solutions of

Timed Prudence and

Timely Backing.

Time stands no chance -

Teamed with a perspective

This world zooms into 

Tranquility

Travelling into illumination.

Day 19 S for Stream

Between speech and silence

Yoyoing your stashed passion

Slyly you confuse the senses

Disowning yourself.

Between Sunrises and Sunsets

The many unsaid stories

That Haunt the insides

Sunken your soul into submission.

Stubborn you - let those stings run loose

Soothe those gashes

Slathering some self love

Over the relentless abuse

Of indifference.

Let not those limitations 

Confine the streams of your pining.

It's okay to shun your sainthood

In lieu of a little selfishness

Don't martyr your heart

Serving, sacrificing, suffering!

Pic Credit - Chandra Elango (Del Valle regional Park, CA)

Day 18 - R for Reason

They decide to ride the public transport to the city. She settles next to the window spreading her elbows out and resting her chin on her palms. He settles next to her and scoots closer. "So you have your window to the world to entertain you and you don't even want to look at me. Now I have to entertain myself. " He sighs.

" You don't need a pretext to pull out your screen, do you? I thought your screen and you are inseparable"

"Ouch what burn. I get the message. But you need to entertain me then. Tell me a story and I'll promise I'll switch off my phone"

"So I am your personal volume of 'bedtime stories for toddlers'?"

"Nope - you are my personal volume of commute time stories for handsome young men"

"Oh I see? So I get to keep mum and watch through my window to the world then"

"Aha...you are on a burn roll" He laughs.

"Never mind. I'll tell you a story. As cryptic as..."

"You are?"

"You judge what you hear, alright?"

"Yes Senorita"

And she starts her narration
                                                                  ****************
Once upon a time, in a city by the river a young woman named Ganga lived a happy life. She was a bit of a mystery to all and sundry cause she did a lot of things. She smiled, she helped others, she spoke to people when they needed counsel, she listened intently and with empathy when folks spoke to her about whatever they wished to share. She cooked for and fed the hungry, she played with children, she smiled at strangers and made small talk with them in long queues or at the river banks on her evening stroll.  She was nice to everyone she crossed paths with. All of the above she did without a reason. She just seemed to do things for the sake of doing them.

People around her would ask her "So you just called to say Hello?"

"Yes" She would reply. "I had been thinking of you and wanted to hear your voice."

 She seemed to have found the fountain of happiness as no one ever spotted her looking grim. This was puzzling to the world that was constantly calculating about their benefit in all things they did - doing things without a motive. Some used Ganga to their means but the wise, sorted one she is, she let them. She somehow found being of help to others as very fulfilling and didn't care about being acknowledged, thanked or even judged. Ganga's friends called her foolish. A people pleaser. Some even went to the extent of wondering aloud that she has a sure shot selfish means behind all this facade and if there was some hidden agenda behind her niceness. She never paused and reflected upon how she was perceived by others. Ganga looked like she decoded life and found eternal bliss. Once a dear friend of hers who looked up to her asked why she does what she does and how it is humanly possible to be such a selfless giver.

"Givers are the biggest seekers, When we rise to a level where we obliterate the fine line between our ego and the world, we have attained the biggest of prizes" She replied.

"So you do everything without a reason?"

"Not true" She responds. I have a reason for everything I do.  And it is Love"

Ganga flows like the river she lives by, lending a magic touch to every path she treads - nourishing the crops, quenching the thirst of countless living beings and doing all this for no reason.

                                                    *****************


She stops and leans back on the seat, looking at him. He looks lost, his gaze peering into the other side of the coach.

"That is so corny - not anything in a ten mile radius to cryptic, Ms. Cryptic" he says.

"I know, it has to be. But let's hope, against hope, that art imitates life and somewhere, somehow, some life imitates art as well"

"That is so deep" he says this time and making an intense eye contact. "You get your cryptic card back" "Love me for a reason and let the reason be love" He hums.

"Tell me another story now - and I know you'll somehow twist it and make it corny" He adds.

"You have no respite from that. Just saying" She winks.

And they both smile. For a reason.

:-)


Pictured -  The Ganges in her Monsoon glory. Dasashwamedha Ghat, Varnasi.

Day 17 - Q for Quest

I cast a net 

Over the ethereal 

In an attempt to capture

What skips the sight

Hoping those abstract heartstrings

Breath in a form

And escape into freedom.

I shed a tear

That plays the dual role

Of inexplicable vibes

In an identity crisis.

Pain blurs into pleasure

Over the matters of heart

Ah, the bittersweet sting

That sprouts from love.

I ponder over the meaning of life

And its precarious temper

Tricking us into distortion 

Shunning wisdom

Embracing avarice.

I pine to surmise

The reason of the breath

Sinking into depths

Of tangible endeavors,

The hide and seek 

Of illusions

That pop like bubbles

But little do I change

Notwithstanding the insight.

Quest, this existence that I seek to resolve.

Pic Credit - Chandra Elango

Day 16 - P for Poem

Let me propose a toast

To the coping mechanism of my life

Those many lines etched onto my heart

That flowed out of mighty pens,

Letting new perspective

To life's little maladies

Fine tuning my vision

Through this corrective lens called verse

Unfolding the beauty of living

Armed with the map of wordings

Making me sigh and gasp

From falling in love

Over and over again,

When the world is captured and confined

To the elegance of expression.

Daffodils looked brighter

Unheard melodies sweeter

I learn that love doesn't alter when confronted with an alteration.

Idle tears gathered in my heart and raised to my eyes

As I heard a strain that filled the Vale profound,

The dark and deep woods beckoned

And I gather I have miles to go

It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all

When I wandered lonely as a cloud,

While my soul shook in the power of phrasing.

Let me attempt gratitude

To all those line that softened my insides

Glorified my outsides

A lowly tribute I pay

With a cheap but sincere imitation

To my soul food,

Poems.

Pic courtesy - with many thanks to Dhiren Shah.