I rock in my chair
In the balcony grilled
Imprisoning me in thought
The setting sun tries
Hard to reach me
Through the lightning
Through the thunder
The clouds block the rays
Like that feotal thought
That is developing within
Lightning thoughts
Thunderous thoughts
Blocking its birth
When the skies clear
And this rain stops
The rays will get to me
The thought will grow
The thought of love
There are wars to be won
There are hearts to conquer
Sans blood
Sans hate
And then i shall bask in the glory
Of everything bright
Of everything colourful
This nature recreated
Just for me.

My solitude

The darkness of the night
The quiet rustle of the leaves
The smell of chempakam fills the air
The pitter patter of raindrops
The solitude of my mind
The drifting thoughts
The rushing thought to break free
The serenity of the moment
The serenity that surrounds me
The serenity that fails to penetrate
My mind.. my thoughts.. my solitude..

The pounding in my head
The pain pulling the chords inside
The pull in different directions
The pain showing no signs of ebbing
The light shining bright in my face
The choice which i no longer possess
The sound of the cinema
The piercing of acoustics
The pain piercing deeper
My mind.. my thoughts.. my solitude

The morning spent in quiet waters
The sound of the wind echoes
The abysmal fauna around
The mesmerising depth of the green
The wind in my face
The myriad lives that dwell on
The wondrous creation
The nests built on no man’s land
The lonely trees mirrorring
My mind.. my thoughts.. my solitude..

The ride with you that never will be
The look on your face as we take in
The silence of the night
The feel of your arms as we lock in
The darkness covering our bareness
The whispers polluting the silence
The love in your eyes for me
The words that i can utter without thought
The thought of you lingers on
My mind.. my thoughts.. my solitude..

where is she?

Switch off the loud music upstairs
Its not very endearing at ten in the night
The beats drumming into her head
Like the other beats over so many days
The security watching over her entry and exit
The happy friend who turns it into humour
It is a constant wave of emotions
She rides unaware
The growing one pounces on her with attitude
White haired sits mum
Words sealed in the mind
Little tantrums wants a slice of her
Each day
Every day
He beside her is riding his own wave
Clashing with hers at different depths of the sea
As she finds herself drowning, something pushes her up for air
The pillars are around, supporting like ever
All she has to do is lean
There is the dwelling, about to be born
Nurtured in the womb cared for day after day
Soon it will be born to open a pandora of memories
Where is she?
Hidden in these words, riding the waves
Sometimes under, sometimes over
The wings are tired, they want to rest
On a shoulder strong enough to bear the weight
Of lifelessness!

I see her

I see her smile
A kind of smile that masks all pain
The broken tooth with signs of yellowing
From age
Her eyes gleam
There is a brightness in them
She is genuinely happy
I see her shrug from the cold wind
As she stands by the snowman
Whiteness like she has never seen before
Pristine beauty like her soul
Her shawl folded in half around her neck
Grey jacket which has her smell
Her hands soft and warm
Her face smooth like ice
I see her
Yes, I see her
From my soul
She took my smile with her
She took my hope with her
She took the warmth from me
And she hides now
I see her on my table
Her reflection in my shadow
I am her flesh and blood
So I see her
It was someone else at the pyre
No it was not her
I know she will come
And I will see her smile, again.

Of coffee.. Of chit chats.. Of smiles..

There is a place far away from where I live now, where the coffee machine works just like it used to, the cafeteria is full of people and voices, there are people standing behind those huge glass windows talking about their woes. Every morning there was an IM with the coffee mug and a question mark. It was endless chatter about work, people, kids, school and what not. After another two hours, there is another IM, this time a group one, with the word ‘lunch?’. Tracking down people, organizing the schedule, buying the same old food, or devouring the other’s lunch box, and endless laughter and fun. Then there is the evening tea with snacks in our own coffee shop by the lake with plans for the evening or venting out the frustration of the day. It was people, there was a life, where I was surrounded by people. Unlike today, where I sit in my office room. My mother smiling at me from her most beautiful picture. Stacks of paper waiting to be cleared out on my desk. The dim bulb of yellow light, which makes me feel like just shutting down. There is no coffee.. there is no IM.. I have lunch, mostly by myself, either huddled in my seat at office, or on the 4-seater dining table in the corner of my house.
I know its hard to believe, that there is a place far away from where I live now, where I was happy. It was where the people around me, cast a blanket over the qualms of my other life. I lived in the happiness that they created around me, leaving my troubles locked up somewhere. I didn’t have to spill out my lows, just sharing my highs and listening to theirs was happiness. There was someone who listened, someone who spoke.
There is a place far away from where I live now, where people still IM for coffee.. meet for lunch, share scores of laughter and return home to meet again. While I, reminisce in yesterday, trudging through the memories, crawling through the happiness, longing for that place that is far away from where I live now..
And yet, a voice from some inner core of me tells me, everything happens for the good and I live in false-belief.. 


She was the fourth child born to a namboothiri father and his second wife, a nair lady. At the age of 17 she left her small town Eravimangalam in central Kerala to the garden city of Bangalore to help her sister take care of her child. In six months at the age of 18yrs and 3 months she got married to a photographer employed at Visweswaraya Museum. Five years down the line she had a daughter and another 5 years she gave birth to a son.
She strove hard to put her kids in Bishop Cottons School, one of the premier schools in Bangalore. With the meagre salary her husband brought home and the additional extra income from screen printing it was a repeated cycle of rigorous thirty day struggle to make ends meet. But she stuck through it for a long twenty one years. She put her kids through engineering colleges and got them through computer science degrees. When her children graduated, she graduated as well. She cleated ICSE twice in her lifetime.
At the age of 46 she came down with Parkinsons. But that did not deter her spirit. She travelled the world, made five trips to the US, saw the grandeur of Niagra falls, grand canyon, new york, the white house and vegas. She gambled at the casinos on the slot machine and she had so much fun. She saw the arrival of her grandson as he let out his first cry in this world. She cut the umbilical cord.
Through all her troubles, she smiled. She lived by example and showed us that there is no mountain too big, no storm too rough, no day that you cannot get through. Courage was her middle name.
I have never experienced death this closely. It does bring an end of sorts. But it is not the end. She is here, in this house, around me, with me, watching over me.. like how i cannot touch happiness, i cannot touch pride, i cannot touch her. But she is here, very much here..
I don’t know where she went, however, i know she is happy. She is at peace finally. She has no troubles no sorrows no pain. Her limbs are not bitten by Parkinsons anymore. She is free. She is smiling and in a very happy place.
Like every mother and daughter we have fought. Arguments, periods of not talking, patching up. But at the end I realise that there is nothing of that. It’s just the happy moments..
I know the void will never fill but it makes me happy that at this very moment and for all the moments to come she has only happiness..