Life

It really isn't more than how you look at it -

Dozens of crayons, sporting messy smudges 

From cozily snuggling into the pencil case.

Then those little pots of color

Catching those many condiments

And concoctions of yummy ingredients

Simmering on the cook top.

Random handmade finds, hanging as reminders

Of life lived.

Those reams of un-shredded junk mail

Unread rows of books waiting to be devoured,

Amid punctuation of a rusted routine.

And the magical occurance

Of piles and piles of plates and garments

Await their scrub or clean

To fall back into a loop of just that.

Little feet gliding through a disarray of building blocks

Leaving tell tale signs of toddlerhood

A freehand doodle with a Sharpie

Or those tacky ketchup smudges on a snow-white tee!

Amidst all this color, clutter and chaos

Another page flips by

In this blitz of existence.

Transparent

Agile like a critter, dense like fog,

The opacity of those masquerading thoughts.

Those carefully wrapped musings,

Hurts huddled into bundles 

Camouflaging in masks of smiles,

In 'care-not' make believes.

The many red herrings

Thrown world's way-

Unveil them.

Let those frozen tatters

Thaw into tears.

Escape, reveal and revel

It's okay - to let those vulnerabilities

Bypass the brave guises.

Even heroes have a right to whimper

And let the transparency

Welcome in, the light of truth.

Picture Courtesy - Chaitanya Kanni

Mundane

She steps back and examines the sheets, and then walks to the beds and irons out all the creases with the palms of her hands. One last look and the pesky perfectionist in her that occasionally surfaces pushing aside the wabisabi loving free spirit lets out a whistle or something that sounds like one. She never really got how to whistle, but she tries - like she keeps trying how to wrap the flat sheet over the fitted sheet to utter perfection. "A coin should bounce on it" a bit of information she absorbed from the magazine in the Doctor's waiting room echoes in her ears.

"Make the bed early in the morning. when we walk into a room and see a made bed, our day starts with the same 'made' feeling" Her grandfather used to say. Bits and pieces of his mundane observations come to her every now and then as she tries to figure out the neglected little bits of life. When she first discovers the fitted sheet, she discovers a joy similar to the cliched sliced bread. "What jugaad!" She is as amused at the invention as she is hassled at the complexity of folding it to perfection. She would recollect how her grandfather folded his towels or dusted his prized books in the book case. She does not give up. Ambitious she isn't but passion is an entirely different ball of wax. Besides, it seems to have seeped into her through her gene pool or perhaps through taking in the nitty gritty of her Grandfather's personality. A 'how to video' is the need of the hour.

She settles on the floor crisscross applesauce and spreads the fitted sheet in front, carefully overlapping their edges and tucking the sides in, like crafting origami. The king sized sheet folds into the size of a notebook, except thicker. She look at the perfect square and lets out a whistle, or something that sounds like one - adding the imperfect accent to her perfectly ordinary existence.

Picture courtesy - Diren Shah. Pench National park, Cottage in the jungle.

Reward

A boring trip to run errands - that's what it was. She dragged her feet along, tucking her smartphone carefully into her denim pocket when she caught his eye. A look lock that made her freeze in her tracks for a flash of a second. "The evening is going to get transformed after all" She thought to herself. The hopeless romantic that she is, She secretly hoped to, and found ways to fall in love. She had a winning streak. She was addicted to the dopamine rise and had to have it at every opportunity!

Just as she broke out of the trance of being held in intense eye contact, she realized he was staring at her, askance. A slight disapproval? Suspicion? She could neither guess nor give up. His saucer like eyes charmed her a little too much. It was love at first sight and she was determined to find a way into his heart!
The charmer continued to pout..but the eye contact intensified. Out of the blue, her spontaneity found it's way into her playful mind. She winked at him and flashed the brightest smile she could manage...
4, 3, 2, 1....She counted while his bright peepers shone a tad brighter and the corners of his mouth hugged the side of his face. That was a smile that could materialize rainbows on a dull sky.
"Yes!" She hissed under her breath. A day transformed as the baby boy squealed and waved at her clinging to his father's shoulder.

Inspired by true events.

Picture Courtesy - Chandra Elango. Queenstown NZ.

Ponder

The waters glisten in pristine pride, sporting the occasional boat being rafted across the aquamarine surface. The bridges stand firm, their gigantic pillars looking like they are floating atop the glassy river, kissing their own hazy reflection. He looks longingly at the familiar sight, the one that existed in front of him all his growing years. This morning, the familiarity taunts him a little, questioning him where his awe was when he woke up to this sight, blind to it, in the rush of growing up.
This morning, the scenery taunts him too...those three bridges connecting the banks like threads of the regrets connecting him to his past. He lets himself tangle into those threads, wondering about all the bridges that were built, burnt and blurred in the daily grind of toil and turmoil. His bridges - that melted into the fog of life.

Finally, the mist in the horizon clears, gathering into his eyes.

"Better late than never" - rings a distinct voice from within as he struggles to bring the bridges into focus.


Featuring Godavari and the road cum rail Bridge - Pic Courtesy - Sudhakar Yeluri.

Grit

She spots them -
Sporting gleeful spirits,
Determined to figure it out.
The slanted circle
Rotating in the spin of those youthful gaits,
Now faltering
Landing on the mulch.
Playful mirth
Fills the chill winter breeze.
They go on..
Amid all those attempts
Being guided by the lady behind the lens
"This way! Legs Inside! Roll at once"
She dispenses instructions.
The bystander looks through
Smiling. Soaking it all in.
They keep at it, failing, falling,
Flapping around in joy!
Ah, the Physics of Fun.

Safeguard

She pulls it together
Snugly on her slender shoulders
The warmth engulfing her
Like the heat from the furnace
Fighting the winter’s sinewy touch.
The texture of her wrap
Gently rugged, little wisps of thread
Offering respite in a forlorn night..
Like love lost, waiting to be found
On the treshold of hope and despair
The wrap..akin to his strong shoulders
Securely clasping her every emotion
From overflowing into limpidity!

Pic courtesy - Google

Expectations

Here comes a new leaf..
Anticipation makes me flip
Resolutions, vows to be better
To understand more, judge less..
To evolve more, complain seldom.
Smile all I can, crank? Nay never!
I look into my inner self
And give an appreciative nod!
Often wondering what’s in me
That eludes me and reveals itself to you..
The flaws that I am oblivious to..
May those very downfalls
Diffuse into a blur
Making the self as smug
As it perceives itself to be..
May the expectations be only
Of the humbling, lofty kind
That puts me to ground
And earths all the overflowing current!

Permanence

Jake and Shobha
Walking by Gleason Dr,
Wandering while delaying
The steps to their respective doors!
Loads of books digging into their backs
Puppy love filled up to the brims
Exchanging sweet nothings
Contemplating their first peck
Chance upon a wet block of concrete
By the sidewalk!
They etch their names
Into something akin to eternity -
Till those slabs are smashed
Or the street boundaries redefined.
Jake and Shobha
In Two thousand and three-
Wonder if they parted ways..
Conjecture if they are woven together
In a bond as semi permanent
As those etchings on the concrete
That greets me daily,
As I thread the mundane streets
Thinking of puppy love!

Soulmate

In every dream,

Vision -

Hand in hand 

My partner walks

Yanking me toward fun and frolic,

Cake walk kind of choices.

My buddy helps me kick those heels

Of high and lofty ideas.

Waking at daybreak,

Deep breathing, mindful eating.

Or even musing on this virtual dais..

Instead the pal cuddles with me

On the recliner with a morning cuppa.

Piles of noble intentions,

Wait like well trained kids.

Without a tantrum or eyeroll!

This mate of mine

Keeps guilt at bay..

Makes me think I am here to stay.

Those tubes of paint, that blank bland canvasses

That path untread with a high on sweat!

Those unmade calls, unrealized strolls

Their wait indefinite, their plight unheard!

I snuggle up with my fling..

And this shiny screen thing -

Who wants sleep, when the world peeks in?

Inspirations hit like contractions.

To see the labor of love...

The voyuer prevails soaking in the beauty

And smothering the will to create.

High time I thought, I'd banish that dude..

My partner in crime, dear mister Procrastination

New Leaf

As mother earth completes another revolution around the sun and my life turns on to a brand new year, I make a  desperate, albeit feeble attempt to pulverize my block into powder and record an entrey in my blog. Fair warning, full stop :-)

Random titbits of 2016

My best friend from childhood visited me along with her family, crossing the proverbial seven oceans. The cherry on top is that our men gel like Fevicol ki jodi :) -  General lesson learnt in 2016 about friends - the ones who love you will be there no matter what! All else are just acquantiances.

I called 911 for an emergency involving my baby that turned one year old a day before. She bumped her head on the hard wood while attempting to standup. She didn't swallow on her crying and did a momentary passout. Self discovery - I am extremely composed in crisis to a point where I wonder if I have feelings.  I am extremely grateful that she did just okay after that and had no concussions etcetera.

I always thought that compatibility with the teacher wouldn't or shouldn't matter, till my first born found the teacher of her dreams this academic year and is so motivated to do her best that she completed her year worth of reading points in her first trimester and got an immaculate report card with straight As. Lesson learnt - I stand corrected and the next time her school sends out a questionnaire to ask input about the kind of teacher my kid would prefer, I would not send it to the trash folder.

I made a piligrimage to Varanasi - the ultimate destination of The Hindu relegion and saw first hand what the hype was all about. Ganges, the river of legends has a life of her own and I was left strangely captivated in the impossibly narrow streets of the city.

The toughest job, officially, is to manage a class of middleschoolers while trying to teach them something as abstract as language arts. It also, somehow , manages to be the most fulfilling job ever.

When I do not react to mushy, sentimental viral videos and inspirational, emotional or tearjerking social media shares, when I don't laugh out loud to half baked, logic defying, trying to be funny movie plots - I wonder if I grew a brain in place of my heart. But then, my occasional obsession of searching for Matt Damon and watching all his youtube interviews, and reading all about him and his wife and his four daughters once in a while acts as reassurances that I am cukoo enough to not turn into a total Howard Roark ;)

I continued to have the attention span of a two year old, in terms of my inspirations to paint on the nine oversized canvasses waiting to be bathed in color and talent (grin) - Ironically, I still refuse to be time bound even while I sense it slipping away. My resolution for 2017 is to also achieve the matching non-botheration level of a two year old.

In 2016, I got to heaviest I have ever been - to a point of ten pounds heavier than the date of my delivery and I am completely at peace with it. But I do nurture a secret hope, which isn't all that secret anymore, to run a marathon.

I let go of all baggage in the bygone year. I lost a few so called friends, some probably didn't even notice that I lost them, but I still did confront my own displeasure in how my friendnship wasn't of much value.  Surprisingly, I have no hard feelings or grudges. Just moved on and closed doors that should have not been. also outgrew my love for bags and didn't buy materials for personal use such as clothing, accesories et al. My kitchen gadget craze shined through reassuring all and sundry that I didn't renounce the world afterall :)

I judged a tad less, smiled a tad more but blogged seldom. Which brings me to the point of this blog...'keep writing' is the formula...something sensible to ponder upon is perhaps lurking around the corner..
Let the hope brew...:)