A Quest on Overdrive … :)

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



The day was long and the hours quiet. Just the kind of day she loved. Sunday. Never mind the weariness of the late night before, nor the thought that in probably twenty hours she’d have to be on the go again.

In the quietest corner of her heart, she felt content. At last. It was done, that final absolution of her self-acquired guilt. She had fought hard. In the burgeoning silence that her heart held, for so many years, was the greatest sorrow. She should have done something earlier. Way back, when she ought to have, so that other lives could have been helped too. Her silence simply paved the way for more trauma.

Pushing herself out of the armchair, where she’d been reading the newspaper, she arched her back, and straightened the cricks in her neck and shoulders. She should start getting her cupboards ready; the most exacting and un-fulfilling task first. She smiled to herself. It was so difficult not to punish oneself. The habit of a lifetime not easily unlearnt. Why couldn’t she simply do something else? Why did it have to be something she hated? Laughter bubbled, with the introspection. Girl, you’re not supposed to get all maudlin, you hear?

She was glad, yet again, that she did not have to pick up after anyone. Her single life, all by choice, never had gone down well with anyone; not her family, but of course, and not her friends, but then, in a ‘nice’ sort of way. They still tried, in all manner of underhandedness that only friends can do, to get her a man. The thought itself made her giggle. She liked that sound. In this back of the beyond, she mused, in this back of the beyond. A man, no less. Good friends, certainly!

And suddenly, without warning, nostalgia struck. A painful blow. Not the gentle waves washing over one and lapping at the edge of consciousness  Oh no. And just as fiercely, she missed him. He, whom she could never touch. He, who had spoiled her for anyone else. He, the only one who made her feel. The acrid taste of guilt smeared her heart. Why now, she thought. Why now, Dear God!

They’d been close. Close took on a new meaning with him. But then, such fairy-tales most times become nightmares. She learnt that the most traumatic way possible. The day she knew she could never ever belong – they could never ever belong. The storm that struck them had long since abated, but never done with. The pieces were too many to be gathered, let alone sorted. For he already belonged to another; and could never ever leave. The Never Never Land of No Recompense. If it were only they that suffered, it would have been bearable. But, like all other kinds of forbidden fruit, this one too spread its poison; and took its toll. She left, with no choice but to carry her share. Silently.

The slight curve of her abdomen, braced to bear that shock of memories, slowly straightened. A deep breath. Her hard won composure beseeching her to pull herself out of that pit, she stiffened her resolve. No more going back there. Life was more than memories. She was living proof of it!

And so, to another day. Another day with partially submerged and entirely unacknowledged wistful thoughts, she walked towards her room. Opened her cupboard, and found, instantly, an empathy. She smiled. There she was messed up, just like those shelves. All it took was a bit of care, folding away things, rearranging and re-doing neatly, artfully.

She wondered though, at how mildewed cobewebby corners did not take a long time to form. Again.

10  March, 2013
The Story of my experiments with fiction begins. 😀


In Retrospect

Wallowing in time…
That brings back breaths
Of aeons past-
You prompt. You jolt.
I realize. And regret.
At the brilliant needlepoint
Of pain, accrued, in blue,
Sometimes red.
Bled cold with each pin-prick
In crafting this
Unforgiving image of my undoing,

If only there was time
To go back, before
Meeting unnamed destinies-
Time to undo that intricate
Weave, and weft, and warp
Of pain-
Undo, thread by painful
Thread, all my inconsistenties
My selfishnesses, thrust upon you-

A reprieve- at least, this day
I glimpse anew, that design
Of regret-
Knowing, absorbing,
Seeking and receiving
Your forgiveness.

Framed in acceptance,
Kept aside, with quietude-
Only to peek, when again
I may falter…
To guide, when I may lose
Myself, yet again,
Subjugated by insidious
Webs of duties that tie me down.

To seek strength, knowing
That I shall not, again,
Craft, of myself, another such
Mosaic of regret and pain.

25 September, 2011

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She waits…

A doting mother waits

In expectation of a windfall!

She waits…

With a secret joy-

A quiet knowledge,

An earnest prayer


Absolute faith!

29 March, 2010 …



She comes resplendent-

To live her nine days;
In benediction, in grace!

To remind us-
And that demon within;
There is succor; If you seek.
There is hope; Should you despair.
There is penance; Is there none who does not sin?
There is life; For it triumphs even death, through the soul.

A moment’s realization
Is enough-
A penitent thought
Can find you a place
Far higher than kings!

A kind deed
Will pay you more than the
Richest man’s coffers.

She comes with this brightness;
This breathtaking promise!

And yet, each year,
We send her back;
After patronizing Her
Those nine days-
Like a guest overstaying Her welcome-

Foolish us!
Relieved She has left.
We become animals again!
Forgetting, She can never leave-
She stays, unacknowledged:
In wait, within us.

We may leave,
But She never can!

26, October, ‘07

Picture courtesy: Google images,


The King Returns…

Long ago, in days of yore
A mighty yoke Mahabali bore

‘Twas none but ability, grace and compassion
Which urged denizens of upper echelons to bash ’em

So they set out with plans afoot
A little boy, his grace to loot!

So Mighty was he, the King
‘Twasn’t easy his neck to wring…

With teasing irony, and gentle demand
The boy, a mere God, asked three paces of land!

All-knowing, more wise, the King relents
(His Guru’s pleas while he rejects)

Thus proving, in his gesture, who was more generous
Leaving the said denizens of Heaven, looking preposterous!

Thus blessed, and granted his wish, forever more
He graces this day, Thiruvonam, so goes the lore

To bask in his country’s pleasure, the love of his people
Hopefully, he’s not disappointed, with response, feeble

While his erstwhile countrymen lol about, placid
With a full tank of alchohol, smelling rancid.

Still, some, like me, foolish perhaps, but filled with anticipation
Still await his visit, with bated breath, with happy fascination

For in a little child’s eyes, we see, hope yet, love yet, joy yet
And that in itself, a season to celebrate, will be our best bet!

Online, 21 August, 2010


Happy Onam everyone 🙂 May the season’s best dog you right through this Onam 🙂

Edited to add, 1800 hrs: Well I took it for granted that the story of King Mahabali must be a familiar one; and then realized that it may not be so 🙂 You see, legend has it that Onam is celebrated to welcome King Mahabali, who once ruled this place, in which Kerala now stands, who was sent to the Patala (the lower areas of Hell) by none other than Lord Vishnu who came disguised as Vamana, a young small brahmin boy. King Mahabali was just, fair, a noble King, and utterly generous, but bordering on being a mighty king. So the devas decided that must not be so, and with the help of Lord Vishnu, ensured that his generosity would stall his plans. The young brahmin boy asks for just three paces of land, and being granted so, takes the Earth and Heavens, in two and asks where he might place his third step. King Mahabali offers his head, and is then pushed to the Patala, before which he is granted the wish that he be allowed a day to visit and mingle with his countrymen, once in a year. And so Onam celebrates this great King’s return!