A Quest on Overdrive … :)

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


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Limbo

Suns burn with the
Irony of a knowledge
That blinds.
Light. So much light.
But never enough
To chase the shadows.
Yet, always too
Much to let
The Shadows be.

Times when I need
The Shadows
I’m blinded.

Else, it’s the eclipse
Where I exist.
(Cease.)

Hither and thither
Emotions scuttle
Like roaches fleeing light;
Or perish,
Moth to flame.

So, each night,
I flood my room
With light.

For only then
Can I be lost.

Or found.

21 December, 2016

Sigh.


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Renewal

(This one’s a sequel, if you wish. A write prompted by a dear reader’s “:(” and a “Whyyyy”! Yep. This rambler is certified… 🙂 And so, this came to be. Unbeknownst 🙂 )

Renewal (a sequel to Redemption)

(or, What were the Odds!)

She stumbled out of the slowly brightening hall. The credits had rolled out, a smattering of applause gathered momentum, and by the time she’d reached the exit, everyone was standing.

She paused at the door, turned, raised her hands and applauded. She saw him, at the end of the aisle, his parents beside him, Raksha behind. That endearing smile lit his face. She blew him a kiss, which he wouldn’t see anyway, and slipped out. The lobby was deserted. His favourite, this theatre used to be, from school, she remembered.

Glad and sad, she made her way outside, called an auto and fled before the others came. Straight to her hotel. She was booked for the early morning flight. Her goodbyes were done – even though he’d asked for her company at the post-screening informal do he’d arranged. She’d made non-committal noises but had already decided. He knew of course. He couldn’t not.

She was packed. With nothing but her thoughts for company – she felt undone, claustrophobic. Quickly changing into jeans, shirt and sneakers, she fled once again, this time to the park, where they had first met. A couple of introverts who somehow found the courage to smile at each other and talk. She had been in the city as a resource person for a couple of workshops on creative writing. Serendipity, it had to be, that he had been part of a group she worked with. What were the odds, she mused, that a decade on they’d remained friends; more than that, in the least clichéd way.

She’s watched, seen him grow, in confidence, find focus, despite the way life shattered pyrotechnically around him. As it had been for her as well. To have the luxury of owning yourself – with no lien of love, of another’s heart, was at once a tragedy as it was satisfying. She knew that wasn’t her state of being, but she was working towards it.

She walked past the park, to the road that bordered the sea. This was his favourite place. He’d mentioned it often, of taking her there, but it had never happened. Distances, physical distances, the obligation to life, to family, meant it hadn’t been possible. It was pretty much a miracle that they’d even been in touch over the years, and stayed close – mirrored thoughts, hopes, hearts even – both being in hopeless relationships with entirely different people! What were the odds, indeed! She smiled. Found a spot, relatively free, and watched the ocean, perched on the built up wall, with the rocks stretching beyond to meet the waves.

The ebb and surge, the gurgling, the splashing, that constant, hypnotic hum of the waves…she lost herself in it. She wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed, but she was at peace. She held her backpack on her lap, arms wrapped around it, chin resting on top of it. Wispy tendrils framed her face, her tired eyes at peace. The silence, despite the sounds around her, was tangible; almost as if she’d created a bubble of stillness around her.

A bubble of stillness, in which she sat, with that faraway look. These were his thoughts, as he stood a few feet away, watching intently, a warm smile in his eyes, a sigh of relief hovering, unreleased. He continued to stand, and watch- in a stance akin to communion, a prayer. He did so, knowing her to be oblivious even to the night, so alive around her bubble of solitude.

Uncharacteristically, he was lost for words. He did not want to impinge upon her peace, though he longed to smoothen her hair, those wispy tendrils, rest his hands on her shoulders and drop a kiss on the top of her head. A surge of love rushed, and overwhelmed him. With sudden clarity, he recognized it for what it was. What were the odds! It was as if her thoughts had sneaked into his.

In the three hours, post screening, he’d smiled and talked, and been a quiet, but genial host, receiving with gratitude the kind and fulsome words of appreciation. As soon as he was able, he’d beat a hasty retreat, knowing a sense of loss. Of someone. Raksha was beside herself with joy. He was glad for that – that was truly redemption – the dream they had had, had now come to fruition. Honestly the credit went to her, her indefatigable spirit in pushing him. As co-author and instigator, he made sure she’d shared all the credit, in large, bold letters and presence. Yes, he loved her, and would always do so. But her hold on him seemed to diminish, now that he was on the road to forgiveness, to himself. She got that dream of hers, made him work towards his, and now had a foothold for further progress. A certain peace flooded him, lightening his ever heavy heart, filling a vacuum carried too long.

At the same time, his palm tingled with reminiscent warmth. It was the first time she’d reached out in public to hold his hand, even though they were not the hand-holding type. His lips quirked into a grin, as he felt that familiar sense of security, whenever he thought of her. His rock of Gibraltar, that was what she’d been all along. If there was one thing she’d brought back to his life, it was laughter and trust.

He wouldn’t find that elsewhere. It was something he needed, right now.

She wasn’t at her hotel. Her cell phone was switched off. On a chance, he decided to go to the park. Nothing. There was only one place he found solace in all those troubled times. The shoreline. He decided to walk it down, and reaching, began to slowly savour the throbbing life this place always lent to his weary heart. As he walked, he felt that faint prickling at the back of his neck – seriously, it was such a dramatic moment that he nearly laughed out loud, involuntarily.

All those times they’d talked about this, that instinctive knowing, a gut feeling – all that played back, and he knew now what she meant. She was near. As incredible as it was, he simply knew it for real. Walking on, he found her bunched up, chin on backpack resting on her lap. She’d changed into the casual clothes she loved so much.

He stepped up to her, and did just exactly what he’d thought he would. Smoothened her hair, dropped his hands to her shoulders, and dropped a kiss on her head. Sat beside her.

She sighed. Smiled. Leaned into his shoulders, as he put an arm around her shoulders and tucked her head under his chin. This moment was theirs alone. His arm tightened as she snuggled close. He’d tell her, soon, how those demons would never again bother him much. If she’d stay.

She thought. Tonight. It would happen tonight. The inevitable recognition of a soulmate. She prayed for strength to leave; he, that she’d stay. She, fierce, headstrong, independent, kind.

That chasm of yearning, yawning between them, suddenly seemed bridgeable.

22 January, 2017
One of those things, again, that simply had to be.

 

 


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Redemption

In the quiet hush before the screen lit up, she slid her hand, quick, warm, and covered his, as it rested on his knee, his tension evident in the controlled drumming of his fingertips. His hand stilled, turned over, intertwined his fingers with hers, as their palms fitted perfectly into each others’.

She did not care if she was noticed. He never did worry about it anyway. But this moment, it was special. It was just as she imagined it, over the decade plus years from when she’d first visualized it. The ambiance, the feels.Apart from herself, there was Him, his dearest friends, Her, that line-up of family, critics he’d had to suck up to (his wry words!)

She knew too, he was taut, as a string, his emotions playing a concerto, with its slow rhythm, a build-up. All of it, she knew. How, she did not question or seek. Near or far, they’d been tuned into each other.

A resigned smile tugged at the corners of her lips – it wasn’t the soulmate variety, all mushy, though even that perhaps would fit. That smile widened at the thought, into a happy grin. She was glad they had each other, whatever part of each other that they could be, and give.

He’d often called her his muse’s bodyguard. A term, at once an endearment, and a reminder of her place, as the keeper of his sanity. His heart was branded with another’s pulse. His thoughts, though, were hers to seek and share. Just as she gave of hers.

Life, she mused, is just as complicated as you make it – a cliched line from a hackneyed Hindi film, of an aeon ago. She smiled again. She did not need to look at him, to know he wouldn’t, till it was over.

A weeping guitar serenaded titles, the acknowledgements, and then faces, voices, larger than life paintings came alive. She watched absorbed. For her, as with the others, this was a first time watch. Not sneak preview. She’d even avoided the trailer, deliberatedly.

On his other side, she could sense her tension too. Raksha’s.The muse creator. The instigator. The almost-give-up-er. Till he found his way back, to his dream, to her. She would always have his heart though.

A fond quote from a teacher, back in college flashed in her mind. The greatest tempation in life is to confuse dreams with reality. The greatest defeat in life is to surrender dreams to reality. Making sense of what to surrender, and what to pursue, therein lay the biggest challenge. She was simply glad he was discerning enough. He did.

A tear slid down her cheek. Followed by more, as she watched the way the story unfolded – the motif of the road, of a murmuration of swallows, bridges, the slow falling mist (not rising), the story of bridging a yawning chasm, of yearning, between star-crossed lovers. It was too real. It was her story, she realized, as she turned to him, in wonder.He turned that same instant. Tightened his fingers, slightly, warmly. And smiled. The first real smile, that day.

Through the haze of tears, she glimpsed the relief on his face. It was done. He was glad it went off well. For him. Now, of course, it was public – to be taken, torn, touted…as they wished. Knowing him, she knew what he felt, she, and Raksha did, about the film,  would be far greater than any other voice.

Her tears were her gift. Her critique. She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, got up and left. He’d understand.

There were other dreams to redeem, for him. He would too. The healing had begun.

12 January, to 21 January, 2017

The Sequel (LINK)

Sometimes, so sometimes, there is a rush of the absurd, that will not let you be, till you let it loose. Here is best 🙂

 


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Auto…correct

There is so much I
Want to say.

I do want to.

So I do.

But, damn.

Double dayymmn.

Wants ain’t important.
Needs are.
They know that-
Them words.
Them words that rule the roost
In here.

So I say, want.
But them needs slip out.
Those sneaky sneaky
Words, slipping between
The spaces of those wants.

Too late. I’ve said it.
In Black and White.
Red in the face.
That slips into
The grey areas of my
Non existence.

Slip of the tongue.
Of the Mind.
Needs. Wants.

There’s a canvas
Waiting to be drawn
Quartered and hung.

A visible tapestry
A mosaic.
Intricate. Exquisite.
Poignant.

Because it is
Painted in pain.

18 January, 2017


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Quad, Building the Core

… is geeky enough for you to be worried about the mental state of the said rambler author of this blog. She’s still got her marbles, thank you 😛 But she’s been doing some research. (Psst she got a new phone too, courtesy her first born 😛 )

Smarphones these days just keep upping the level – single core to dual, now quad, and octa too, one hears! (And yes, I AM geeky enough, just enough to want to know stuff, to understand, and I endlessly tire those willing to help the curious child within 😛 ) Just writing all this, I fully realize, is going to make many a reader snort, snigger, giggle and be open-mouthed in wonder at the audacity of an English teacher to take on such a topic. Quad core? Seriously? (Yep! I heard that!!)

So I’ll give you some time. Go on. Smile. Giggle. 😛 But ah! You’re the newbie here then. Welcome, welcome to the world of weird, and warmth. 🙂 The regulars here, on the other hand, know how it is here. Words are the adventurers. The trail be this blog, and the muse, in this case are my younger set of kids 🙂 But let’s not jump the gun. The rambler got more rambling to do 🙂

Quad. Four. Quattro, quattor, quatre, Tessera, (Tesseract, the Avengers, how that takes me off on welcome wings of filmy fantasy! Whaaatttt? I need to get back? Yes, yes… So where was I?  We’re 240 words and we have no idea where we are at no? 😛 )

Four. They’ve touched four, in every language there is. But most importantly they’ve hit that four with the language of love, letting us in on that journey, be inspired, motivated, loved, loving them all the more. Who…dear me! I get ahead of myself. 😛 Who? What? Four? I can hear you mumbling, grumbling, and ready to close this tab. Wait, do, wait, please..:)  un momento 😛

Ashwin and his lovely partner (I heard that! in crime, you say? Hawwww!!! ) Neeti, my son, my daughter (in law) celebrate their 4th anniversary, this day, 14 January 🙂 Four. Yep. You got that right mate! Fire, in Danish! Fire, oh wow! (Yes, I did google it 😛 )

And so, we come to the Tradition of celebration on this blog, after the meandering through sheer unadulterated nonsense that is the USP of the blog, blogger, rambler… 😀

Glad Firearsdagen! (To say it the Danish way. (Fire, four in Danish, has gotten me!) )
That means, Happy Fourth Anniversary, dear Ashwin and Neeti!

May the fire of your love continue to burn bright, showing you the way onward in your journey of togetherness. May that fire be a shining torch to others , who take succor from your love, and grace their lives with the beauty of the love you share! May that fire never singe, but always warm your hearth and home, heart and soul. May it be the one thing that will sustain and ever keep you within its circle – for FIRE is the purest of the elements! It purifies like nothing else can! Your bonding was sealed with a sacred fire divine, and on this Fire-th anniversary, may that have grown, with a promise of more love, laughter and endless moments of fun and frolic!

God Bless, my dearest dearest darling Neeti and Ashwin 🙂 You de rockstars! May the Yin and Yang that is you continue to flourish in the interconnectedness of life with all the Love you can muster.

Love you so, dear bachaas 🙂

I’ll always  imagine you singing this to each other 🙂

13 January, 2017

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Happy Anniversary, Neeti and Ashwin 🙂 

for 14 January, 2017

 

Blog Tradition for them, on their anniversary, over the years:

2016 

2015

2014