A Quest on Overdrive … :)

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


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Seasons in Life

For joy, for mirth
For unbridled laughter
And the gayest of fancies;
Fun that is mild, warm
Sunning, swimming in time 🙂

When laughter deepens
Sinks
Into gloom;
When thunderclouds gather
Threaten to rain-
When emotion floods
And seeps into the soul-
Turbulence-
Deep deep pools of misery
That swallow you whole!

And then the lull-
A quiet of understanding
Sometimes not;
At times accepting;
Caught in the current
Of the passage of time.

Most times, in the moment.

So too, with seasons- as they live;
Each in their place

The fresh and the blooming

The warm and ripening

The fruition of dreams

Quietly returning to whence
It all began.

Each season, in itself
A reason for Life.

2008.

Random springcleaning, searching for an important book, and a tiny notepad from years ago, finds my hands. Flipping through its pages, this word doodle 🙂 Silly, but I guess I know where it comes from 😀


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Boomerang

Ishsh.

Her mother loved that name, that sound, that sigh, literally, ever since she’d seen Aishwarya Rai (sheesh, she’s not that beautiful, especially now!), and that song, in Devdas. And  so the obvious happened, when she was born.

She despaired, however, of being called that – that was her name. Ishsh. On her birth certificate, in school, and God-help-her, it made her the butt of all jokes, in school and college. Really. It was made all the worse, as she was ‘cute’.

Finally, she was in a position to do something about it. She had the wherewithal, so to speak. She’d graduated, despite all odds, with that name, and secured a ‘Government Job”. At, happily enough, The Department of the Registrar of Births and Deaths. And that, even more happily, was close to the Department that published the Gazette Notifications.

At 24, newly-employed, determined to change her fate, that lay entrenched in her name, she marched into a notary’s office to prepare the necessary documents. She saw him, seated at the far table, young, unusually kindly-looking, serene, welcoming, and well, easy on the eye. She presented her problem, with the necessary indignation; he listened patiently; waited for her to finish.

“Mishh Ishsh…” the way he said it, for the first time, before hastily correcting himself, was most appealing. Strange.

“Yeshhh… errm… Yes?”

“Why would you want to change such a beautiful name?” Earnestly.

That floored her. For the first time, her deep-seated animosity towards her name wavered.

Ishsh. Hmmmm …. maybe she’d keep it after all.

Moony-eyed, she walked out.

8 February, 2014

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The How of the write above: 🙂

The Hindu In School, dated 10 Dec. 2013

The Team “Zing’in”, from my school, my kids,  comprising of students from Class 9, five of them, won a chance to attend a story writing workshop, yesterday, in Coimbatore (info in pdf file above). It was great fun, and educative with it. One of the activities was to write out a 25o word story, or part thereof, fleshing out a character, with the Hook, Hold in it… 🙂

I’m not sure if any of the teachers present tried to write, but I sure did. This is the result of that experiment 😛


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Sepia

That would be the colour of my life.
Sepia. The pages I mean.
The pages wrinkled, frayed around the edges.
Much thumbed.
Vulnerable words hedging inwards.
Going back is a given.
Living in what has been
Yearning for what would be.

Passion lurks, unbidden.
Belonging, unwavering.
Inconsolable grief, it form scabs,
Over healing wounds. Slowly.

You hold that book now.
Containing the pages of my life.
Do you see what I mean?
Those words, those lines-
Concealing more than meaning.

I wish I could edit them.
Those words, I mean.
Find grace in simple stories
I once lived.
I cannot touch them now, though.
But of course.

Still, the rainbow that my life is
Can never be muted:
Even if it be Sepia, in yours.

28 September 2012
Online
(Inspired entirely by the topic for Versification given at school, “Pages of my life” :D)

Other personal Sepia favourites:
Sepia Dreams
Beyond Sepia Dreams


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One Day

And just when bone deep exhaustion

In my soul clamours for a break from it all…

A gusty wind picks up, and whooshes through

The curtain, that partly opened window;

The one I tried to shut. Tight.

And out billows tendrils of not just

My stringy hair…

But labored threads of threatening thoughts.

The “What If”s, the regrets, the tiny tenacious lichen-like

Scabs of memories. Of another day.

This gutsy gusty thing. I wish I could be it.

Someday.

23 July, 2012


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Clouded Hopes

That cloud, it grew, as it passed

Over sea, over beach, over valleys and hills…

 

And burgeoning with the heaviness

Of promise, or was it warning?

It arrived: longed for release.

 

As did she, looking upward

In empathy. Know the portent

Of that darkness, of that weight

Of expectation, of the helplessness

Of being left, to the

Winds of change.

 

And while she waited, it blew away.

Was blown away.

Looking longingly after it, she wished

She too could grow wings and follow;

That she too, whimsically could just

Up it and off.

 

A day later, she heard it rained

Where he was.

Unappeased, she forgave herself.

And waited for the next one.

17 July, 2012

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On a random thought, while gmail chatting with Soumya, about a cloud that did not rain here 🙂

Text belowUncanny, the thought that it took me by the scruff and wrote itself here. 😀 The last line says I hoped to read it from him 😀 

On 16 July, 2012:

Soumya-Amused: :
and how is the weather there?

 me: Almost but not quite rainy.. overcast most times… but the intensity of the rains is yet to pick up
07:00 Soumya-Amused: hmm same here.
  but interestingly
  the cloud that goes above your house, the same comes to ys.
  us*
  esp the ones that do not pour
  🙂
07:01 me: Now THAT is a thought 😀
  One should write about it, no?
 Soumya-Amused: Yes yes.
 me: So I’ll read it soon?”
Your turn now, Soumya 🙂