221 - And you know when you are pretty much friends-less

When you share more on your blog than with anyone else in your life. :-)

I keep thinking about this bit. Our views, opinions etc usually gets on digital media for posterity and easy shar-ability.

Apart from all this, there is one important thing that happens here on blogs. Blogs usually dont talk. They just listen to you. They perhaps dont judge you. They allow you to process thoughts. Edit them. Help structure them by giving us time and comfort.

Its like mommy earth. :-)

They just keep giving and giving without expecting anything back. Like a pet. Only that the pet needs outdoors. Walks etc. Blogs are super low maintenance. Physically, mentally, emotionally and financially. 

220 - The icon

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

True that. That genius line is written by a doubly genius poet. Unabashedly my favourite poet/author. And I stumbled upon this article: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2018/nov/23/chile-neruda-airport-rename-outrage-admitted-rape-memoirs

Not that I did not know of his controversies or his 'abuse' admission in the biography. I pondered over this for some time. Should this news about him affect my love for his poetry? Does personal lives of artists matter to us?

I remember having this debate with a friend who admitted that he stopped reading Neruda's books because of the rape memoirs. He wondered why would people publish it.

How harshly and how linearly do we judge people.

I obviously am not OK with the fact that Neruda assaulted/abused someone. Doesnt matter Srilankan or otherwise. Transgression has happened and the universe remembers it.

What bothers me is how singularly do we judge people. How self righteous are we. We forget facts about ourselves. We may not have raped people. BUT. We must have committed other transgressions which we dont record. Like. Have we never committed sins? And how do we measure ourselves?

I think it is extremely difficult to live with ourselves. I dont know about Neruda. But I know that I have transgressed. Unknowingly. Unintentionally. BUT. I also know that I live with the pain of repentance. I dont think there's a bigger punishment than that. Try breathing.

I dont side with Neruda. But I wonder at the indignation we all have to judge other people and forget to look at our own flaws. As if. We are all saints. Or something.

As I write this, I am also worried that I would encourage a train of thought that veers to a dangerous assumption that I am normalizing abuse. Am I? No. I am not. I condemn abuse. We just sometimes underestimate the power of weakness. We also underestimate strength of character. Our penchant for the 'absolute' is weird.

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”

219- Rangapura Vihara- 3

Anything new this time around the same song that I cant stay away from in the past 2 days??

I have heard renditions of Sid Sriram, TMK, and many many more renowned musicians.

But the TMK one stuck a chord. It's here to stay. :-)

Cant say enough times about the song and the man who sung this.

218 - My new shoes... (Those Nikes)

Just about enough breeze. Enough grey (I love the grey skies- really really do). Enough green. A very light drizzle that doesnt halt my run. Nor my music.

That. As I ran I almost smiled today. Almost. :-) And wondered why??

My fk-ing feet felt so light. So happy. So 'runny' (that word's my poetic license!).

And then looked at my happy feet. Clad in my new Nikes. Who buys shoes worth 8k bucks??? Me.
Who buys shoes with air bags? Me. Who is sentimental about moving to a new pair of shoes??? Me.

I discarded my previous pair of shoes in less than 3 years- maybe 4. I lost count. But I had to. Point is when they start growing with me, it feels soooo difficult to move on. Like a lover. :-) You know.  No no, actually like my penultimate pair of shoes that were with me for 8 years or so. I had withdrawal symptoms after I discarded those shoes. I wept into my pillow. I was depressed. I ate chocolates. The works.

But now. Well, for one, I am back to my Nikes after Sketchers. I am able to run faster. I feel lighter. I love 'em. My new shoes!!!

217 - The incomplete circle (??)

Ee pusthakam eppudu poorthavvadu.
Aa gurthulu eppudu cherigipovu.
Ee kanneellaki anthuledu.
Aa virigipoyina manasu ee jeevithanni ela thattukogaladu?

Roughly translates to:

This book will never be completed.
Those memories will never be erased.
These are never ending tears.
How can a broken heart survive life?

I dont think I have ever got the translations perfect ever anyway.

216- Ranga pura Vihara TMK- 2

14:37
15:03
15:20

That's brilliance.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXpyw9jf4TY

Has been on an infinite link.
TMK has really really made carnatic music so beautifully masculine. :-)
Is this crush time??? :-)

215- Rangapura Vihara

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXpyw9jf4TY

I have always been a fan of TMK. But this rendition is where I can see the throw of his voice.
Brindavana Saranga is one of my fav ragas and think about it- I used to love Kamalapthakula, a thyagarajar composition. But I have to admit that in this case, I love Dikshitar's Brindavana Saranga than Thyagarajar.

Kill me for admitting it now. :-) It's a good thing I am not popular, else I would be trolled to death for this one. 

214- The birth

She came. She arrived was more like it. Like a train arrives into the station where people (im)patiently wait for it to stop. So they can meet their destination and destiny. She arrived and her 1 year old daughter sighed.

Gayathri was a girl who was not destined to live for a long time. She had the gift of knowing when she could die. A bit like Bheeshma. Only in her case, it was not her wish, but more like a time bomb which did her count down. At 1, she had the wisdom of this.

Gayathri was adopted by a couple who could handle the news of her time on earth. Her biological mother didnt. She went in search of her own fate giving specific instructions that she not be informed of whereabouts of her dear Gayathri.

The mother. She thought of her precious child every moment. Prayed with every bated breath for longer life and hope. Yet. The day dawned when Gayathri had to leave life. And she wanted both her mothers to be around her.

The biological mother was informed- albeit reluctantly. She still stood on her ground and refused to see her. And then she touched her heart. Swallowed her grief and decided to see the daughter she walked away from an year ago. The only memory she had of her dear Gayathri was the touch of her innocent fingers against her ragged heart.

The second memory she would form would be now. The last moment(s).

She came. She arrived and her 1 year old daughter sighed. A dying person evoked far too many true feelings in people that otherwise would never touch them. There was a sense of strangled peace in quarters. The moment. That moment they looked at each other. The mother who looked at her daughter. And everyone ceased to exist in that room. In the universe. There were just 2 people. And silence.

She walked towards her daughter with an intent. She wanted to relive the only memory she had. She walked up to her and held Gayathri's hand. Brought it to her heart.

Her heart knew when Gayathri's fingers lost life. She disconnected the lifeless hand and walked away silently. As silently as she had come.

But her heart. It was filled with things that a human brain didnt understand anymore. Can anyone measure the heaviness that weighed upon her heart? Can a human heart, as a muscle, carry memories that brain doesnt understand? Can a heart recognize touch? Can it understand the pain that love causes?

Can it understand the tears that flow down the cheeks to touch the heart? Can it understand life after heart break?

Can it ever withstand the pain that this death causes? 

213- A clock that doesnt hold

In the silence of the night- at a time when both owls and larks went to bed, the only sound that was heard to him was that of the ticking clock. In a effort to ease the vice-like grip around his chest, he tried to breathe hard and deep. The effort exhausted him. He lost track of time. Was it only a few minutes since he got up? Or was it a few hours? Or a few nights since he slept well? It seemed to him, in that eerie night, that it was just him and the night that gave each other some company. Except that they were silent partners witnessing the crime of the universe: Watching the day break.

As his meditation guru advised he focused on his breath. Tried to unite with the universe with each passing breath. Sometimes it was a gasp. Sometimes it was nothing. And sometimes, it was the rush of tears that didnt seem to stop. They were desires in his life. Lots of hope. And they didnt lie. They didnt participate in the denial process.

And just the one time- he wanted to indulge. To set free. To fly. To jump. Can a crash be as painful as breathing was today?

He looked at the sinking moon for answers. The moon just mocked at him in tiredness and amusement. What a lunatic! :-)

When he had a chance, he played god. He abused his position. He abused people. And now he struggled to live in the shadows of the day.

Slumber slowly took over. He breathed in silently. Not gasping anymore.

The eclipse just passed. Of moon or of the man- only the rising Sun knew. And perhaps the clock could tell. Tick tock. Tick tock.

212- Oh, the enchanting petrichor

My chest expanded with pride. My daughter started school. I couldnt believe that my little girl grew up so fast. From being this tiny tot that fit so snugly in my arms is now walking all by herself in her pretty uniform.

I looked at my dear husband and his eyes reflected mine. That moment. When the daughter was walking into the school- unsure and yet excited. That moment when we gazed into each other's eyes. That moment when it just started to rain. That moment when the familiar earthy scents wafted.

I took this deep breath. My chest expanded with pride. Again.

This was meditation. All of us being locked into the same moment. The Union. 

211 - It's all in the head

I always thought I was a brilliant dancer.

I can negotiate all the tricky moves. No pressure. In my head. :-)

People always thought I danced like a spider. I wondered as to why there was a translation error??? :-) :-)

All I had to do was execute the 'moves'. 

I always thought I was great at reaching out for help. 

I can summarise and articulate my needs extremely well. In my head. :-)

People always thought/think that I sucked at inter personal relationships. I wonder. 

Where am I lost???? 

It's all in my head. 

210- Happy birthday, mommy

As the air craft hit the tarmac, I realized I could be home just in time to call in the birthday. I almost could have missed it. And that could have been a disaster. In my 20 years of motherhood, I never missed my dear daughter's birthday.

I quickly ran through a mental check list of things I had to do:

1. The basic gift- check
2. The gift I want to give- Check
3. The gift she would love- check
4. The gift from the parents together- check
5. Cake- check
6. Invites to the friends- Check
7. Menu- ??????
8. Dress 1- Check
9. Dress 2- ?????
10. Dress 3- ?????
11. PMS alert- check!
12. Fight with the dear spouse- check
13. Last minute appointment to the dentist on the D-"day"- Check
14. Bad news- check
15. Charade participation- check
16. Try super hard to play the part- check
17. Exhaustion- check
18. Last minute eating out plan- Check.

I know the pattern. I have lived through it for 20 years. What time didnt diminish till now is the feeling of awe and tiredness I had 20 years ago when I brought life into this universe. As if it was me alone! :-) :-)

2 decades is a long time to forget. To fade out. Enough to be reduced to something.

A something that's nothing.

Another day lived- Check! Another year goes by. 

209- Honey...

"I'm home", I announced with delight as I walked into my home where I was the only living being. You call it empty? I call it my home. Full of me.

As I sauntered in, I lay my bag on the sofa, with a lot of reverence. Well, my bag was tired too. I walked to the puja room and prayed for a few seconds to the gods who were like "kshetra palakas" for my home. And me.

Switching on the lights in the kitchen, I lit the stove and silently started to cook my dinner. And pondered over my day. As I do everyday. There's comfort in habits. Sometimes, it is habits that make you feel belonged.

A demon of a thought slowly crept out of the bushes of my mind. Took a very weird shape in the steam that sizzled out of the old Prestige pressure cooker. It was real. Real enough to mock my loneliness.

The little devil laughed at me and my inability to take a joke that was on me. That morning. I still remember what my dear friend told me when we were having coffee. It was a happy chat. A very friendly chat. We were laughing over something one moment. And then she said it. Said something that truly hit me deeply.

I wonder why I took it so personally? The demon mocked at my insecurity again. With so much gusto that my heart ached. Painful. And sharp.

I didnt want to die this way. Of a broken heart. As a fool who didnt understand the crux of life. As a person who didnt ever experience the feeling of being belonged. To a place. To people. To myself.

Why does a jovial line like: "I will cut you off from my life one day" sound so sad to my ears? Even within a funny context?

Crazy times. :-) :-)

Homey. I am home. A warm embrace. Chatter about the day. Hot and fresh dinner. Cuddle and sleep. Impossibilities of my life.

Change is the only constant? On a wing and a prayer.

208- An Escapist, Not.

I contemplated if I should shut down and decided that atleast one time in my life, I dont want to run away from my place. My feelings.

I didnt want to judge myself too harshly and walk away feeling disgusted with myself. This one time. The one time I want to push myself to stay and try and solve something.

Here I am. Trying to claw back.

Anyone out there to welcome me??????