Friday, July 29, 2011

Excuse me Wordsmaid, a Doubt

"Polishing a story off with questions is a good technique."

what does is mean?

Romancing The Letter

A sudden void.A gut instinct tells me I left behind something that is mine.I take a deep breath.A hint of a shudder runs through my heart.The void reluctantly vanishes.I walk on away from the read Post Box into which I had just dropped a letter.

My bond with letters began two years ago when I penned my first letter to a dear childhood friend.I had just shifted out from my hometown to a strange place for higher education when nostalgia bit me.It was a long one, the letter.It ran into 3-4 foolscap sheets filled with descriptions of my new environs.The college,students,teachers,friends,grandma,cousins,food,the atmosphere,everything.I even included a tid-bit about a weird looking eatable that our college canteen served.

That was just the beginning.Since then,I have ,when inspired,turned to the fascinating experience of penning a letter.

To buy an envelop, the right stamp and paper.To steal a little while from my selfish schedule.To settle down at my table all alone with just my pen,paper and thoughts for company.To write.

As my pen runs accross the white sheet of paper,in the deep blue ink is congealed my joys,sorrows,fears,worries,thoughts and feelings.The words hold within them bits and pieces of my mind,my heart.As I write, I pour my self a little at a time into each word.When I sign it,I embalm the words with the love drawn from the well of my heart.

Concern and regard is enclosed in the gentle folds of the letter before it is inserted into the carefully chosen envelop.

A pinch of anxiety is sprinkled on the address as it is jotted down....Will this reach my friend.......?

The stamp is stuck and confidence pressed onto it.The letter is ready for it's perilous journey preceeding it's rendezvous with my friend.

I clutch the letter afraid of losing it.For now,what I hold in my hand is not just a piece of paper with some ink on it but a peice of paper with a bit of my heart sealed within the dried ink.

What I feel now, as I walk up to the red Post Box is,I guess,a sliver of what a father feels as he leads his daughter to the altar to be handed over to the uncertain arms of matrimony.

When finally I let go, a void.A momentary sense of loss.

My romance with letters is fresh,young and one-sided.I have only had the pleasure of writing them.Not reading.

I've always wondered what it would feel like to recieve an envelop addressed to me.To hold it in my hands.To run my fingers over it,relish the thrill,suspense and excitement of not knowing what the contents of the virgin letter tucked snugly within are.To open it and know that I am the first to do so.......

Yesterday,while arranging books in our college library,my friend stumbled upon an old inland letter hidden in between the aged pages of a huge,dusty Economics text.A letter written,posted,recieved,read and forgotten in a library book 18 years before I was born.

The date on the yellowed,frail paper said, 28-5-1973.

The pain of the writer at being forgotten by a dear friend and the anxiety with which she awaits a reply still echo in her words.A voice from the past.Did she ever get a reply?Or, is she still waiting after 38 long years.........?

A letter, a chip off a heart.

Friday, July 22, 2011

A walk with my thoughts.

The monotonous voice dictating notes drones on.I force my heavy eyelids open.My tired eyes stroll accross the class envious of those who sleep peacefully.My thoughts wander to my lunchbox.The tummy utters an impatient growl.A glance at my partner's watch advocates patience.

My thoughts take a walk around and settle down on this morning.Today,a fresh batch of first year students arrived.

Hesitant steps.Anxious faces.Frightened glances.The air was heavy with a heady concoction of apprehension,excitement and tension.Hearts pounded in the darting ,lost eyes.

I accompany my thoughts to my first day of my college life.My initial impressions about the campus.The frustration,disappointment,anger and dislike with which I approached my college and classmates.

The loss,despair and sadness I felt in being rudely uprooted from my homeland manifested as a deep sense of dislike,contempt and anger towards anything and everything associated with the new place into which I was dumped.

My family had just shifted from Kochi-the place where I grew up-to Kollam,my parents hometown.

It feels like yesterday when I,a thin,defiant,lonely girl with a serious 'attitude' walked into this campus for the first time.A girl stubborn not to gel with the surroundings or fellow students.I refused to notice anything good or positive around me.I slammed the doors of my mind shut.

The campus knocked ,then banged at the doors of my heart until I yeilded.The campus which was once a hostile stranger soon became a good friend.

Today,as a final year student,I sit by astounded at how fast time flies.Two exciting,eventful,enriching,enlightning years later,I can't begin to think of leaving behind this campus,my teachers and friends who have become a part of me and my life.

This campus has filled my heart with innumerous warm memories,it pointed out a direction for me to pursue in my life,blessed me with the honour of being in the midst of good people and gifted me with a small handful of sincere relations.....I have no regrets whatsoever with regard to my tenure here........

The teacher stops dictating.I summon myself and my thoughts, back to the classroom.The teacher looks around at the half-asleep class.Heads look up in hope.

"Thats enough for today",she says.A wave of relief surges through the students.

She steps out.The class leaps back to life.Jokes,laughs,chatter,merriment.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

a Tryst with Uncertainty, and then Some.

It has been some years since we've been living together
I can't quite recall how we met
One thing is certain, I wasn't a little girl anymore.
It wasn't at a party, I seldom socialise.
Now that I'm trying hard I remember,
 it was at Nowhere,at Nothing.
both of us masked,deception in vain however.
Not the most pleasant of encounters,the Stranger scared me
the enigmatic smile and the distant eyes.
I had kept quiet and walked away.

Next morning I awoke dripping in sweat-
the Stranger's face flashed first on my empty mind
Couple of moments later I regained reason,
filled my barren hall of thought,made some decisions.
I would go out to meet the World today.

Lost at a busy bus stop I wondered,Where.
And there again the wretched face! He strode across,
his gait so elegant that vexed me more.
I leapt onto the bus that stopped first,
before the mysterious man could follow,before he called out.

The day sped forth,poured people cars sights and sounds.
Soon I stood at the same old place where
the six-fifteen would take me Home.
I took the seat by an aging window,by a changing world,
watched the shrinking skies and a sinking sun, and thought of Tomorrow.
I was seeing myself at a distance when an uncalled chill clutched my heart
The Stranger! I fled!

In weeks that followed I saw him again,everyday and everywhere.
This stalker I described no one believed or cared.
I took to the normal life to fight my illness-
I worked,ate,slept,dreamed ,laughed,wept.

Many good months later into the new regime I felt choked,
strangled and suffocated by an odd feeling.
Ask me not why, but I missed the face.

Of course I knew where to find him,I knew his name.
He wouldn't leave,seldom do such things leave.
He'd be waiting at the Crossroads, Indecision, in Loneliness.
Or probably with Fear and Confusion,or Hope and Faith,
for they are his usual companions on our encounters.

So I travelled to the seaside,alone.
And walked past the Dreamers and the Escapists
and reached my share of sand to stand upon
and gazed at the far horizon to which
crimson clouds raced,and then..
And then I felt the hand of Uncertainty close upon mine.

Every morning I awake to Uncertainty.
Uncertainty I have grown to love
but never understand.

Hey all, I've been on a pretty long break now.Awaiting some results and trying to find enough things to distract myself--you know, poetry,painting and the lot. I may not always post on Wordsmaid but when I do post I do on my own blog Also you may find some of my de-ranged paintings lying about there :D Do visit. Take care all.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Why Women are Always in Shackles???

Mother wanders for work,collecting even the smallest coins.Living in an outside state,she sends it to her small house regularly.One day she comes to the house full of joy.She calls her daughter,"Kajal!Kajal!.......Kajal!!!".Suddenly she trembles from head to toe.

Kajal committed suicide at Thiruvalla in Alapuzha.A 14 yar old girl,studying in 10th std,one evening she went to the nearby temple.But she didn't return home.Where did she go?Many rumours spread about her.She answered with her death.

Her body was found from a compound which has a strong wall and gate.The deadbody was found in a burnt state.Before that the police started their enquiry.Finally,they closed the F.I.R stating that it was a suicide.The real problem starts from there..........

Everybody concluded that it was a suicide.But her body proved otherwise.The murderer tried to hide the evidence but it came out.The lower half of her body was burnt.Her body was retrieved 6 days after she went missing.The last message in her mobile phone.It befogs everyone.

These proofs reveal the conspiracy in the death.Her body's position and the time lag of her missing unfolds the fact that she was subject to sexual abuse.Was this planned with the help of technology?How did she get into the compound and if she commited suicide her body would have been completely burnt out.

Nothing will replace her for her family.A family mourns for their dear one.Their tears still flows like a river with the hope that she will come back.

A bud was destroyed by beetles.....................

Why do administraters shut their eyes to these problems?Do they have any secret intentions?Why did the police conclude it as a suicide even before there was strong evidence?We must hold hands against this,otherwise,there will be many more Kajals in our God's own country.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

When a Singer Became the Song

A raindrop ran down from the infinite sky,fell on my face and splattered.

I knew it was a message from the mighty sky.I looked up.The sky was dark.He was overcrowded with water filled clouds.He called me in his majestic,unique way.My heart slipped into his spell!!!The sky was mysterious!My heart longed to fly into his velvet arms.

I was unable to control my desire to take a handful of dark cloud and to dab it on my face.

The cloud heard my heart's longing.It shook itself with delight.Beads of water showered....They fell on me....They scattered....They splashed...more and more raindrops....!I grew wings and I flew along with the endless drops.

The plants laughed along with us.The trees danced.Everyone on earth celebrated that devine moment.

The elixer of life oozed out from the clouds.Plants threw off their dullness.They got life-rebirth!The drops made ripples on waterbodies.

They simply fell.

"Hey!Shut the window!"shouted a voice.I woke up startled from my dream.I lost my wings.I wondered where I was.I found myself in the in the side seat of a bus.One of the passengers shut my window with a bang.

Sorry!The naughty raindrops wet them.They lost the talcum powder on their face.They murmured,"What bad rains!"

I terribly want to fly.But I have no other choice,than to stare at the darkness in the bus.The people broke my heart.I need my wings back.

I craved to fly.

I heard my raindrops outside.He knocked at the window frame,asking to be let in.But I'm helpless.

He called,pleaded and finally sang for me.He sang just for me,in a language which only I could understand.I leaned my ears on the windowframe and listened to his marvellous music.

Thick drops awaited me outside the bus.They made devine music on the umberella.I'm sure,the music was superior to that of the Abyssinian maid,in the vision of Coleridge.

Cold breeze blew on me.It carried my heart away.

I was unable to hold an umberella,in between me and the heavenly drops.

The umberella fell off from my hand.Devine drops covered me madly.They washed,refined and melted me.I lost my body.Now I am the spirit-the soul.I became the rain...the drop...the universe........


Today,while I sat on the cement bench under the tree-umbrellas,i remembered my schooldays,my alma-mater,my friends.....

I still remember the very first day I visited my school.There was a written test for admission.I was then four years old and was asked to write English alphabets by my teacher.I wrote well but missed the letter 'F'.In those days,'F' was always a hard nut to crack.Later we (I and F) became good friends and moved on together.

The journey of my school life began thus,followed by a sea of experiences,which made me what I'm now.

When we were the twinkling little stars of kindergarten,we sang about Jack and Jill, narrated the story of the thirsty crow, cried with Humpty-Dumpty and ran about like the mouse which ran up the clock.We danced with the music of the barbie girl and ate and drank and slept like babies.

Like the four seasons of a year, we passed through our L.P classes where Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver became our friends.It was a time when we 'shockingly' realised that there are altogether seven continents and five oceans, that there are so many countries in the world with there own capitals and currencies,so many books with their own authors, so many crops, so many roads, plateaus,valleys, and so many other things.Above all was the great trouble undertaken by us to capture all these in our little brains.

Then we moved on to the U.P section,where we became a little more serious about games and fun,always thinking about celebrations-parent's day, teacher's day and so on, when we were frequently frightened by the nightmares of 'question-answer' games held by our dear teachers, followed by 'cane-dances' and 'pinch-parties'.It was a time when Razia Sultana along with Rani of Jhansi and many others kindled the spirit of patriotism in our minds, when we hated the British who plundered our precious culture.It was also a time when our minds tasted the sweet harmony of spirituality.

Then dawned our High School life with colourful fancies.It was full-fledged with youth festivals,exhibitions,practicals and a lot others.In our practical classes, we fought with test tubes and chemicals.And one day in the Biology Lab, a boy named Tomy 'deposited' a cockroach, my greatest enemy inside my uniform coat and I screamed with fear to the amazement of my friends and teacher.I jumped over and over and by the time it left my coat,I was exhausted.While discussing my High school experiences I can't help saying about the weekend literary meetings conducted by the senior students of the school,where we enacted plays,recited poems and narrated stories.

The memory of classes conducted under the great-granny Jackfruit tree where we gave music to the poems of Kunchan Nambiar,Ezhuthachan,Chaghampuzha,Vailopilli,still replenishes my heart with joy.

The last year in the school arrived with 2006 when we entered the 10th standard.2006-2007 is a year which I can never,ever forget in my life.We were 27 kids of which 18 were boys and 9 were girls.We had Sr.Estelle as our captain with a long cane in her hand and a more beautiful,gentle,loving and caring heart within her.We never had the distinction that some were boys and some were girls.But we were friends,ready to help others,when they were in difficulties of any sort.

It was the year in which we learnt many things,both academic and others which helped and will help us to travel the journey of life,without much faults and breakdowns.Though it was a year rich with tension arousing test papers,it never dwindled our spirit.

It was followed by our picnic,board exams and finally the farewell when tears glittered in our eyes.We hugged and kissed each other parted with handshakes,but still we are one and will remain as such.

Let God bless us,so that in the next life we 27 kids will be able to be in the same class in the same school,quarrelling with each other,playing cricket,sharing jokes and finally,lying to the teacher in one voice,
"Teacher,you didn't tell us that you'll put the testpaper today."

Monday, July 4, 2011

As I drove through the highway, I was lost in a number of thoughts. I rolled down the window and let the cold breeze blow through my face, letting my hair dance. I forgot about my pending homework and projects and I was happy as I could let my thoughts wander freely. It felt awesome to look deep into your thoughts, forget who you are, where you are. The voice of my parents discussing about what we'll have for dinner dwindled and it was just a background sound. I was not irritated by it. It didn't break the chain of thoughts in me. I felt a different kind of happiness in me. At last I've got my right, my right to freedom of thought and expression. I slowly closed my eyes, deeply engrossed in the thoughts. But Ouch!! Something pierced down into my cheek. I opened my eyes, startled! I saw it was raining. How dare the little drop break my chain of wonderful thoughts? It had no right to do so. But I calmed down and decided to enjoy the rain. But it was gone, lasting for just seconds! As if it was really sent to break my chain of thoughts! And I sat gazing at the sky, mourning for my lost thoughts and lost rain...!

When The Eyes Spoke.

A fine breezy evening.The light blue sky is furrowed with whispy bands of cottony white clouds.Sweet birdsong punctuates the air. The soft breeze keeps beat with the Tamil film song I hum.Enjoying the pleasant calmness of the evening, I sort the laundry put out to dry.As I fold the dry clothes ,I hear an awkward cawing overhead.Startled,my eyes flick up to see a slim black crow.

It stares back at me from its perch on a thin tree branch.Determination glistens in its beadlike eyes.It sits still and watches me.It sees that I mean no harm and swoops down onto the ground 10 feet away from me.It's found something to eat.Content,it enjoys its meal while casting wary glances my way every five seconds.But something isn't right.

I look at it again and notice that the bird hops on one leg.In the place of the second is astump with remnants of what was once a leg.

Imagine the horror and pain the loss of a limb may have caused to the bird.I looked into it's eyes again.The eyes spoke,"Time heals."

Time heals all wounds.

The loss of a loved one,the pain of separation,rocky,rough terrain along the path of life,emotional whirlwinds,physical illnesses.....time heals all.When tragedy strikes,and your world shatters,know that it is not THE END.

Nothing.Nothing marks the end of your world except Death.If you let it, time can heal any injury the vicissitudes of life may inflict on you.

I summon my wandering thoughts back to the present.I look at the crow.Yes.There was unbearable pain and confusion when it lost its leg.But then,as long as you are alive,you have to live.Just as time goes on,so does life.

"Don't give me that sorry look!It's my life and I live it my way!",cawed the crow as it tossed a glance at me before it took off into the vast skies.