The Writing Project_Earrings

Was it your voice that first struck me with nostalgia

And made me quiver at the thought of ever having lost you?

Or Was it your words, of wisdom, of ramblings with no consequence

those which made me think; stayed part of everyday memory?

Was it your effort, that unsaid, but necessary piece of thoughtful action

that which made me want to bless the blessing-giver?

Or was it your screaming, your screeching, un-nerving noise

that which made me want to hate you, while I failed at it every single time?

I think it was your sari, your smell enveloped in the skin of the fabric

That smell that was you-er than you would even know

I think it was your hair, the coconut oil drenched, pulled with rigor

That rigor which perfected everything around you, perfected me,

I think it was your earring, you were there, so close, even when you were far,

That closeness, only announced by its light tinkling, a threat, a relief.

I think it was all these, as much as it was you

I think it was you , as much as it was these,

I think it was the earrings, the only ones that stay with me now. 

I think it was you Ma, announcing a little threat, a little relief.



This is the second part of The Writing Project with Kapil Pilankar, wherein we choose words and write our take on it. For Kapil's look at Earrings, the second word in our writing journey please click on the link below
http://kapilankar.blogspot.com/2015/10/earrings.html

The Writing Project_ pencils.

She scurried amongst her sheets strewn across the damp dusty floor, and looked around in despair. The bundle of unkempt newspapers, was a determined lot, touching the ceiling which worried her. The room was getting darker and she hardly had the strength to move the curtains aside.

As she pushed back her hair behind one ear, she remembered his fingers. The way his large fingers grazed on her long beautiful strands and slowly tucked them back, almost an excuse to feel her skin, edge of her ear and the nape of her neck. That tenderness.

She blinked hard, and resumed her search. The Post Office closes at lunch time, and the walk in the afternoon sun is going to be a long one, but she must go, either way. Maybe those drawers in her closet might have it. The brass box probably. There it was, the red and black, brightly striped pencil.

Her lips curved into a smile and as she walked towards the window pane, she remembered his laugh.  The way his eyes sparkled and he yelled ,”I’ll be back in a minute!”. She was amused and surprised at his spontaneity, almost drowning out others in the restaurant, those with their stares. He came back running and grabbing the paper napkin at the table, pulled out this pack of pencils, and began writing on it. That excitement.

It was time now.  The bravery of putting down words which limit the extent of how she feels, had to be done. Desperately searching for one word, one phrase which would encompass the plethora & depth of emotions had to be thought of. A tear drop arrived as it always does, every time, she fought.

And almost like the way the rivers converge into the oceans, her letter ended with the same words he said at the restaurant. That lovely memory, those lovely pencils, and his laugh.

“Someday if I don't return from the war, erase these words from my letter, and dare to begin a new life with my love.”

This is the first part of the Writing Project with Kapil Pilankar, wherein we choose words and write our take on it. For Kapil's look at Pencils, the first word in our writing journey please click on the link below

http://kapilankar.blogspot.com/2015/10/pencils.html

Fools and flowers.

Today I thought about flowers.

I could possibly be old school. But flowers make me happy. Becos they are simple and so beautiful.

It reminds me of a time when I used to pick up a flower to cheer myself up. And I walked up to a florist and looked all around for that perfect one. Every flower was very beautiful,  each one unique and different from the others. And it used to be difficult to make that choice. I would stand there trying to find the one that catches my eye and makes me stare at it a few seconds longer than the others.

Sometimes I wouldn't find the one I needed at his store. And I would walk away not quite happy. But that disappointment wasn't half as bad as it was how happy I felt when I found the perfect one.

And that's just what I thought about flowers. :)

Not settling for Less is not Unsettling for More.

To my dearest well wishers & aunties who think know what's best for me,

Marriage is very easy. It will effectively take me three meetings,  One to know if the guy can talk in an articulate fashion with little mistakes in grammar,  Two,  to figure out if the family is not known to have a bad history or rumour floating around, hopefully no divorces or the mother isn't a trouble maker,  and Third, the guy is fairly decently dressed, well behaved and shows consistency of behaviour. Background checks and paycheck information is a prelude to the meeting anyway.  And the deal is done. It's simple.

All I have to do then is pump up my excitement for the great wedding day.  I cannot even hide the excitement typing this,  but imagine shopping for that perfect white dress,  you've dreamt of since you were just a kid.  The crazy attention you will be receiving,  the parents going all gaga over you and the string of bachelorrette parties you will struggle to manage your calendar with.

And just like that the wedding day will be over.  The marriage has begun and life has suddenly become,  well,  plain again.
Suddenly settling for the sake of that exciting wedding day seems like a distant dream,  achieved,  realised and plainly pushed into a mental oblivion. The work has now begun. And the dream is now over.

Then there will be days.  Days of wanting to be understood and days when explaining is important.  Two different human beings under one roof is a lot of work and the effort to compromise and find a midpoint is anything but easy. Prayer will form the backbone of a relationship but devotees need to work on their own little forgivings and their own path to each other's hearts.  The motivation to do that isn't external but something that springs from the heart. That emotion is nothing but love and it suffices to have that in good measure for the joy of marriage to last beyond the day of obligated ritual.

It's easy to feel happy about settling,  becos that's how human beings are wired. We rationalise our every decision and portray and begin to feel waves of happiness as well. But the struggle has never been between finding a good relationship versus a bad one. It's never been about finding a good person to marry versus a not-so-good man.  The struggle and rarity of it,  is finding who is best for you versus who is good for you. Not many persevere. Many rationalise. But a few,  very few wait. To find the right one, not just a good one. Because ultimately,  it's love that pulls us through the really tough times. It's true love that helps us overcome a rainy day,  a difficult disease, a worrisome financial crisis.  Because there aren't many,  who will hug you with warmth and stay by your side when you are anything but perfect. Because there aren't many who light up your life,  make u feel just happy when they are around. Because there aren't many who give you that warm happy feeling in your heart when u think about them. And there,  in your heart you will be thankful each day for that person you chose.

And that's why you should never settle.

Waves & Notes

Its a wave that engulfs you, constantly,
tosses you up, when the tide is high
and I feel on the top of the world,
And there is a low, so low,
engulfs you, in its enveloping misery

I sometimes think I'm a mirror,
Reflecting the light that falls
The darkness that's still
Feeling the tossing and the drowning
with un-necessary consistency

His insecurity, Her Anger
Their laughter, It's complication
Everything engulfs and touches my heart
Seeping inside and sometimes spilling out
I cannot see my reflection.

And yet the answers to my cries are within me
The notes aren't far away from the lines that hold them,
Just like the waves of uncertainty flow around me
The notes just stay, unperturbed.
An anchor to my soul, to my words, to my songs.

So I will seek, and I will fight
I will cry, while I choke and tell a story
every fighting moment, Ill stand up,
let the sand slip below my feet, yet I will hold on
to the lines of my notes, the beat of my heart, the sound of my Soul, my God.