Breathless...

Breathe breathe breathe o' ye caged bird...
Breathe in the fiesty freedom beyond,
Breathe in the promising wind of happiness' at the zenith,
Breathe in the holy smoke that blows yonder,
Breathe in the crazy madness of laughter unleashed,
Breathe in the surpassing joy of the monks,
Breathe in what feels like must be heaven,
Breathe, feel and absorb the heady feeling of unwinding,
A chain unleashed and the barriers removed and,
Breathe in what was not the world but solely and only you...

Midnight Musings...

Right when you thought you had reached the zenith of calm,
Fate chooses to pull you cruelly back out of your reverie,
Lying atop a seemingly cushiony grassbed of contentment,
We can all but hope that the thing melting away is not our last shred of sanity,
Memories pull at your heartstrings and pain demands attention,
Calm, peace, serenity seem like mirthless stepsisters laughing at you from the valley beyond,
Naught can be done to soothe the maddening mind,
Tis all but tumult, an overpowering of bewildered emotions pelting at your soul...
Where is the calm that you talked yourself into?
Whither is the glee you felt only a while ago...
Melting vapour and disappearing chasms...that's all that remains to be eating at the folds of the minds begotten spaces that have long since left unfounded...
Strange is the mind and its power to behold things you try most to forget...

Bangalore Diaries and Perspective

Mild, pleasant, rainy Bangalore gave me perspective. They say you have to face your fears. Running away never helps. Got to see this first-hand. True it is, that the pain never really vanishes, but it does fade with time. And the right kind of company, the right words spoken, albeit unknowingly, make a great impact on us, shedding light on what was mildly visible, yet hidden to the unsuspecting brain. Clouded by our senses, ruled by our hearts, we tend to see the world through a grey sheath. However, sometimes something happens and the veil comes undone. There really is a rainbow behind those dark clouds. We just need to have patience for the rains to subside. Yes it hurts, hurts beyond endurance. But the sun shines brightest only after it rains the hardest. The night is always the darkest before the onset of dawn. Strange how only a few hours of the right people and the right words can work wonders. But then this is just me. There are multiple facets to dealing with a situation. And I found mine at Namma Bengaluru.

Ever Wonder...?

Ever wonder how flowing water feels on the raggedness of your fingers,
Ever wonder how sweet sugarcane tastes plucked ripe right from the farm,
Ever wonder how it feels to wake up after a long night's deep, peaceful sleep,
Ever wonder how fresh the meadows smell right after the rains,
Ever wonder if the birds chirping early morning are sweeter than your favourite song,
Small memories of nothingness which later mean the world...
Ever wonder how it feels to travel the world and make the long walk back home?

Lone Fox Dancing - Ruskin Bond (The Master Storyteller)

The man is a master. Everytime I pick up any of his books, it is like a whole new experience all over again. He makes the mundane interesting. He makes biology fun. He concocts wild animals in the funniest of ways. Finally, his autobiography is out and all the questions about his childhood and early life is out in the open, well somewhat. Made me realise how close to the truth his books had always been. He rejuvenates my interest in reading. Been through a lot, the man has shown perseverance. He instils the confidence in us to give up everything and just go live in the hills, that everything is worth it. He ultimately has proven it to us that life is all about wanting to do what you want to do. And being happy about it. No regrets. Salute to the man. As many of us, one of my earnest desires has alwayd been to meet the man face to face and talk to him. Maybe I could. But then, I read somewhere in an interview that he doesn't like being disturbed by strangers. Well, that's what we are to him. Hence, when I did get a chance to pass by Ivy Cottage during my last trip to Mussoorie, I just paid my distant respects to the master writer who has retained the love for reading in young readers like me who have grown up reading him, like he were one of our very own.

Mist Over the Mersey - Lyn Andrews (A review)

War changes everything. What began as a completely normal story of a not-so-well-to-do neighborhood, its various characters, eventually turned out pretty morbid. In the end, of course, it was a happy ending. It had to be, as most fictional novels are. There is Nancy and Mary who are brought up separately by single but independent mothers. And there there is Jerry, Mike and Tommy, who, although belong to complete families, have woes of their own. The whole neighborhood suffers from perennial lack of finances but makes up for it with universal fellow-feeling and unity. Although there is a bit gossip, well, there is always gossip. Then come the Chattertons. Newly paupered, having lost everything to bad investments, they begin to find and build a life in the Liverpool slum. They are welcomed, and rendered a helping hand in more ways than one and they gradually begin to settle down, albeit with some hiccups here and there, what with Dee losing her mum.

Things could have gone on smoothly, but for the onset of the Second World War, tearing the normalcy of lives apart. Of course the boys now have to sign up and fight for the country with their betrothed and about-to-be-betrothed waiting behind. With nothing to live for, even the girls think of taking up nursing as a career, helping those wounded soldiers fighting so valiantly, and the story goes on and on...

In the end, every piece of the puzzle seems to fall back together with a sort of happily ever after to it. However, a lot has been lost in the process, innocence, to say the least.

A completely gripping read which had me turning the pages till the end and left me in a state of shock. Wartime isolation, the fear, the estrangement and the hopelessness of it all seemed to shrink into my veins. In the end, you might get a feeling...it was all for nothing.

Unsatiating Desires

Feed me some pleasant memories, 

Feed me the cool breath of wind following a particularly hot day, 

Feed me the warmth of your comforting hug,

Feed me the assurance of unspoken promises,

Feed me the playfulness of childish memories,

Feed me the feeling of homeliness and all things good,

Never before had all things good seemed so much farther,

Feed me the optimism that I lost somewhere between growing up and going away.....