A Quest on Overdrive … :)

An eccentric rambler on life's lessons and mercies, found and lost… :)


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Naughts and Crosses

Three lines down

Three across.

Evenly spaced.

(The spaces are important, you see:

You forget that, most times.)

Lines drawn, you begin the game.

Helps, if there’s a partner

Double guessin’ ain’t much fun!

Even if you are many persons in one!

I naught, you cross

Three times, each,

Covert, overt, anticipating

Never putting them where expected

Or even where you want to.

It’s not my game

It’s what you are playing…

And yet –

Did we lay out a line of three?

Or did you cross my naught

Or maybe your line of crosses

Came to naught, when they intervened.

Cubed with naughts and crosses

The gridline is a grim graph

Where victory is a formula

You have no clue about

Yet you play, knowing full well

Them naughts and crosses

Could be more, maybe less

But, heck! The do teach you

A thing about being at the

Right place, at the right time

Bearing your cross,

Even if, inside, you’re naught 🙂

xo

14 April, 2018, Day#14 of #NaPoWriMo, running two days late 😛

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Muse

A-muse-d She may be

Each day, when I so

Desperately seek her out.

She smiles, at the nick of time.

Graciously lets me swagger

(in the belief I masterminded them)

In the surfeit of words she shares.

She brings Magic, she does.

Even I, in my arrogance,

Must admit.

The kind that stretches

Beyond imagination;

Past spells cast to

Invoke, evoke, rebuke, choke…

She stays, companionably,

Inclining her sagacious head

Watching me chisel and hone a notion.

I might not acknowledge her,

Yet she lingers, a sheen in her  gentle eyes

That you could mistake for moisture.

Happy? Pride? The ramble

Exceeds expectation?

Maybe the cold shoulder I give

Could be it, too.

How she waits, so patient…

But the walls are up

And the gates are locked…

 

Till that desperate cry, for help

Leaks out, faintly.

She fixes her smile,

Waits upon the whims

And allows the rambler

To think she, herself, is the Muse.

13 April, 2018, Day#13 of #NaPoWriMo, 2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Lesson

Of empty barrels

And pots to fill

That’s what she

Thought, it was all about –

And readily offered

To be so inundated:

Fact, fiction,

They soon merged;

Language and thought

So much to touch!

But they didn’t say

That barrels emptied

Or pots, yet hollow,

If they so remained,

Sometimes surging, welling,

Other-times, upturned, cleared out –

Was all that mattered.

Lessons weren’t to be

Stored: airtight.

Dank, dour, dark.

But

Aired.

Shared.

Lived. 

12 April, 2018, Day#12 of #NaPoWriMo – it’s getting to a challenge now 😀 The muse, the words, they linger longer at the threshold of recognition, not fain to enter when asked 😀

 

 


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The Bees’ Knees

That is, quite enquivocally, what you are, to me, and a whole lot of others. 🙂 Who? We’ll come to that soon enough 😀 That is the way of this blog, and rambler. Together, they kind of mess up your reading skills 😛

I first heard this expression at a workshop in Kochi, where the resource person was an Englishman, a Prof. Richard Something or Other (do excuse me for not being able to recall – I hate that about myself :/ ), conducted by the ABS – Association of British Scholars (??? I think 🙂 ) in association with the British Council, I do recall. We, the thirty plus number of participants, were given a worksheet with several expressions in English, many quite obscure, and vastly underused hereabouts, and were asked to match them with their meanings. Yep, teachers doing match the following. No one was able to score an excellent 😛 Go on, rejoice at how them dratted English teachers got their comeuppance from a Sahib  😛 Serves them right, no?! 😀

Errr, back to the bees’ knees. Clearly we weren’t that. But it still remains in my mind as being one of the most delightful sessions at a workshop where you had a native speaker giving you the inside stories and the inflections of language and usage. Like a bat out of hell was another that caught my fancy…. Deep sigh. 😀

Oopsie, here I go again, rambling 😀 So, ummm, where was I? Oh yes, the who/what/how about the bees’ knees. Yeah, I’m working this one to death, aren’t I? As if them bees aren’t already working enough! 😀

So, bees? Yep they’re busy alright, and give us honey. Pack a sting too! So etymology (excuse me, while I break into laughter, that perhaps only Ashwin, Arjun and I can fully appreciate, since it is part of the spelling bee mimic’s repertoire 😛 😀 ) – apparently the bee collects/stores the pollen in its knees, and we know what a good thing that is right? From the etymology (teacher in full flow, pliss to note 😛 ) it is to be understood that the bees’ knees refers to something that is wonderful, excellent, very good…. you get the drift 😛

That’s it? Okay, you probably wonder. Do you? Then you aren’t a regular here. Avoid, confuse, then cause bedlam of thoughts and words and notions, is how this rambler works, sometimes 😀 We’re not done yet, that is what I mean 🙂 I mean heck! I haven’t even begun (past 400 words now, in case you need to split from this screen 😛 )

I’ll try and make this easy. He’s the bees knees, he is. A wonderful human, which in turn takes care of everything, does it not. Who’s knee at the moment is undergoing a bit of errr…. reconstruction 😀 You see how I couldn’t not call him the bees knees? He’s known to be a laid back Bahubali (the juniors have given him that title – so that makes me, who? Sivagami! Woah! Thank you Bwoys 😀 ) , someone who’s got everyone’s back, even if his knee is put to risk. Well, he’s the Bees Knees ain’t he? Whether he’s gunning away, full throttle, or easing to an idle, and lazing, binge watching, minding his babies, the right mixture of goofy sport and firm instructions, having a blast with his friends or holding the fort at the Ship, thwacking the youngsters there, or giving them some good advice, rollicking away – through it all one word stands out, which, at one point both he and I would have pooh-poohed 😛 Workaholic? Ask him and he’d certainly deny it, but I know that that is the perception, at least among quite a few.

And of course, as he has said, the secret of him being that way? “Chicken” he answered recently 😀 Whatever, it be, I know that he is the one Sane and Sensible voice in our rather zany family, though he too can collapse into bedlam at any given point! It’s been quite a year, altogether, from last year 🙂 He’s got another lovely daughter, Naira, a more articulate elder daughter, Naina, a beautiful gorgeous partner, Parukutty, and the love of good friends and family 🙂 Apart from a torn ACL, left knee (basketball match ), which had to be reconstructed 🙂 He’s got some much needed rest, and is still to recover completely. However, does that stop him being AWESOME? 😀 😀 😛

Nothing ever will, for this unstoppable offspring o’mine!

Happy day, I know it was, Arjun! Wishing you health, happiness, much more joy that your heart can hold, warm giggles with your girls, and great great times, where you’re headed! Love you to bits!

These are pictures from an early birthday celebration, as he goes in for his review for his knee 🙂

12 April, 2018, Arjun’s birthday 🙂

More from the previous years, here 🙂

2017

2016
2015
2014
2013
2012
2011, and this 2011 again!
2010
And more if you just click HERE 🙂


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Knot

Aha! Gotcha, you think!

When you spy the letter

But can’t make that utterance!

This is where you realize,

(only if you’re a random reader here 😛 )

That it never as it seems

In this topsy-turvy place!

There’s things that say

A lot, in their absence

And much that shouts from here

Unheard, unacknowledged, quite undone.

Like this, errm, knot.

It can tie you up in ways

That make its maker proud

Arrogant, even, on occasion.

Cruel? Well, sometimes, that’s inescapable

For the said creator.

Why obfuscate, you might wonder,

When clean lines, no knots, are what

You’d like to see.

Never you mind!

What about them knots

You tie yourself up in?

What of those you have to swallow?

What of those that rise, unbidden

From the gut, and grow,

Hulk-like, when emotions rage?

My thoughts knot up too

When I consider the irony;

Nimble fingers, they quite know

How the ropes may be freed

The lines, the threads, even, tresses…

Lucky at cards, unlucky in love

That thought niggles, all of a sudden

But not knots that tie me up

Fashioned by love, or what passes for it

Rising from the well of acknowledgement

Drawn by the pails and wails of empathy

In the moist fields of tears, that never flow.

Them knots, soggy, swollen.

Will they ever come undone?

A sudden thought surfaces –

Do I want them to?

12 April, 2018 – hours late 🙂 for the Day#11 of #NaPoWriMo, 2018. Yet another forced write, as you can see 😀