Friday, November 17, 2017


It comes at you suddenly. A bolt of lightning out of the blue that shatters your foundation. A hook that flies out of the pages of your memory - pierces your thoughts so deeply that you are frozen by the pain of it. These hooks are hanging always just outside your consciousness, like a curtain of snakes floating and drifting.
A song, a photo, a picture, a name, an utterance, an action, a gesture, a new smile that reminds you of an old - one of these will call a snake to life. You'd feel its fang sinking into your mind.
Immediately, a tornado of yearning engulfs you. Completely. A yearning for something that is a nanometer out of your reach. A yearning so powerful that you're left gasping for life.
That yearning is for the most bittersweet of them all....'what might have been'. For that friend lost in time. For that love that slipped away. For that question never asked. For that answer never given. For that voice never raised. For that pain never soothed...
This yearning shall twist you, toss you and turn you. But it won't take you unless you ask it to. It shall be a brief storm that shall pass. Enjoy the torment while it lasts but ground  yourself firmly when it ends.
This yearning proves that you've lived. It keeps you awake. It keeps you alive.

Sunday, December 18, 2016

On a shadowy night

the fog has blanketed the world outside
secrets, spirits what else does it hide?
a purple light slowly twinkles afar
not a mystery, only a christmas star
a sigh is heaved, my heart disappointed
it needs a mystery on a night so haunted
been at my window these hours past
wishfully willing a mystery to start
if real world's shadows do not bring one
it's to imagination's shadows I must turn.

Tuesday, September 01, 2015

O Canada!

[Apologetic note on showing no love to my poor little blog for 2 years goes here]

I take up my pen laptop once again to take you with me down memory lane while I re-live a great trip. 'Twas a happy week I spent fulfilling my dream of visiting Prince Edward Island, Canada.

Yes, I was part of the group of million little girls who fell in love with Prince Edward Island because L.M.Montgomery taught us to do so via her Anne books. And finally, I was there in person! Here's the story of what happened:
It was a relaxed start on a Saturday night flight to Halifax (the closest cheap airport to PEI). However, about 40 minutes before landing, the pilot scared us by saying the due to the fog and the ensuing poor visibility, they might re-route the flight to Bangor, Maine (The last place on earth I wanted to be. Not that I had anything against it) While I was crossing all the fingers I had, happily no such disaster occurred. Thanking my lucky stars I set foot in Halifax. And in a short while at the rental car place, I had occasion to thank the same lucky stars with a big whoop when I set my eyes on the Chevy Camaro that had been given us. Color me materialistic but there it was - sitting black and beautiful and delighting me. Bless you, Thrifty!

We zoomed on to PEI and stopped at this place called Gateway Village - aptly named as it lies at the gateway at the end of the 13 KM bridge into the island. I expected to see Anne at the island and I did - at Anne of Green Gables Chocolates store. I guess Anne books are the most important claim to fame  for the island and they were going to milk it for all that it's worth!

It was a late evening when we reached the B&B and we spent it at a nearby beach called Brackley. PEI is known for its red soil - this beach was no exception. The beach sand had thousands of red stones mingled with it.
Stone castles at Brackley Beach
Get the joke?
Next day - the best day ever - was Green Gables day. A little history (skip to the pic if not interested/you already knew): Green Gables was a house owned by relatives of LM Montgomery, whose Anne of Green Gables series of books are part of classic literature. The author based the books on the house and its surroundings. She was a very descriptive writer so the island and its people become very real to the readers. I had lived in PEI through her books when I read them. And now, I got to see the actual Green Gables house, the actual Haunted Woods and the actual Lover's Lane. Oh, to be walking the same paths where I imagined Anne walking! For those of you not familiar with the books, this was like Disneyland without the ridiculous amount of people, dollars and wait times.
Green Gables
Haunted Woods
Lover's Lane

Next stop was Cavendish beach which had stunning red stone cliffs. 
The ruddy cliffs
With the elements
On the way back, by a very lucky chance, we happened upon a group of people waiting in line for a Ceilidh (pronounced kay-lee) - an Irish and Scottish music and dance party. If you are ever in PEI, do not miss one of these. Ours was performed by the Ross Family - a very talented brother-sisters trio who along with their mom had the crowd tapping along to their lilting music. A fantastic end to a fantastic day.

The next day, I attended a musical - Anne of Green Gables, the Musical (what else, right?). Well, the best thing I can say is they had some good parts. Anne herself was a really huge disappointment. If you've read the books you know that Anne is a very high-spirited, talkative girl with a love for long words and wild imagination. And Anne always took herself seriously, very solemnly. The actress who played her had zero imagination and played Anne as a comical child who screams and scampers around. She was high-pitched not high-spirited. Jittery, not solemn. The saving graces were the few musical numbers which kept me not too irritated.

Phew, that rant felt good. I can't believe I've taken up so much space with just 2 days of stories. And we spent an entire week there! I'll wait till you refill your coffee for the five more days' worth stories.

Most of the the Islanders are a really nice, friendly bunch of people (now don't be all cynical and say that since tourism is a main business they can't afford to be un-friendly. Let's not forget the New Yorkers.) Wherever we went, there were people willing to talk to us about local history, direct us to favorites and haunts and always curious to know who we are from. When we visited the eastern part of the island the next day, thanks to some of these friendly folks, we visited an artist at his store where he let our 6-year-old make his own sea-glass necklace, had an excellent breakfast featuring the famous PEI potatoes, visited a 148-year-old lighthouse and saw and heard the Singing Sands ("more of squeaking sands", as the lady said) at Basin Head beach.
East Point Lighthouse

Bridge Jumping at Basin Head
The Basin Head beach was interesting because the sands there make a sort of squeaking rustling sound when you drag your foot on them. And it also had this bridge spanning the boardwalk from which strong swimmers were jumping into the swift deep waters below, get dragged by the current into a sort of natural pool formation.

PEI is a very beautiful island. And I believe summer time was the best time to visit since it was an amazing visual treat to see the contrasting island colors - the red soil, the varying shade of green crops, the blue sea, the yellow and purple wildflowers filling the meadows, dark and light clouds sailing in the blue sky. Nature was at her very best and her human creations hadn't dared to disrupt much of her canvas. 

I will leave you now with a few pitifully inadequate images of the island that I was able to capture. In my next post, I'll tell you all about the rest of the trip where we dipped our toes in a deliciously named river, went back in time, delighted in yet more samples of nature's hand at work and saw an interesting phenomenon that can't be seen anywhere else but there. 

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

The Voices

A thousand little voices screeching in my head
Jostling with each other to be the first heard
Angry and happy, sweet and snapping
Melodious screams, all overlapping
The stronger ones come to the fore
And claim my tongue, as their own
Oh you think I put them there?
These little voices that trill and tear?
Believe me, it be true, I can only watch
Helpless, they come out as I talk
Sometimes I don't want one but the other
Alas, the ones I need somehow disappear
What choice have I then but to succumb
Yet wish upon wish were I dumb
'Cause even when I hear them uttered
All I want is keep them shuttered.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Crushed crush

You know how back in school you used to have crushes on older girls (or boys if you were a boy)? A hero-worshippy, non-homosexual sort of crush? Does it ever stop at school level you think? For me, it persists. There are two girls at my workplace whom I secretly adore, from a distance. First one is a smart looking girl with close cropped hair and a pleasant and open face. For her I have only adoration. The other is a graceful girl with a long willowy form, beautifully shaped long hair and pleasant voice. For her, though, my adoration is slightly tinged with jealousy. And precisely because of that slight tinge that I'm glad of the thing that happened.

Why are these american bathroom stalls devoid of any privacy? No I'm not digressing. You'll see the connection in a tiny little while. Back to my question. Why again? There's enough space between the divider and the floor that you can even crawl from one to another. A bathroom is the most private place a person could be. Tell it to these people and they scoff and say 'Privacy Schmivacy'!

So one day, I'm taking my break (you do understand euphemisms, don't you?), when I hear noises from the adjacent stall. You know, the usual noises which accompany a person who is answering nature's call - all of them. The entire concert was played for my benefit. You can't help but hear them in the dead silence of an office restroom. If given an option, I would've stopped my ears but that was just not to be. So I quickly make my exit and was shocked to see my crush number two (number two ha ha ha) egress from the adjacent stall. I could hear a tiny 'poof' - the rosy glow of my crush vanishing against the harsh sounds that were still fresh in my mind.

Now I have only one wish for the future - that my smart cookie and I do not decide to answer nature's call at the same time.

Thursday, July 05, 2012

"Just Google It"

Most questions these days seem to have one answer - 'just google it'. Really? 

Time and again I have had this said to me by my peers. It is a teensy bit insulting.  I am as Gen Y as you and do you, my peer, really think that I wait for your directive to 'google it' when I want to find information on something? I'm a programmer for pete's sake! How else do you think I survive, if I didn't know 'to google it'? 

So why I do ask you a question that can just as easily be 'googled' or 'wikied'? Because I want _your_ answer. The personal touch. Its my way of connecting with you. Because this too-connected world helps me to stay connectedly disconnected, this is my way of reaching out to feel the human. I want the little tete-a-tete again. And you know what, I don't mind waiting to hear from you. 

And why would I wait days when 'googling' can give me the answer in mere nanoseconds? I'll tell you - with an example. Once, a friend sent a list of new dishes and suggested that I pick one and make it for a party. I asked her to explain the dishes to me 'the next time we meet'. And her reply was 'google it'. And she didn't stop there - she googled and sent the answers to me! 
I refused to read it and told her I'll wait to hear about them when I met her next (because we were meeting soon anyway). And the time when we did meet, she did explain the dishes - accompanied with her trademark expressive gestures, smiles and josh. And we built up a conversation from that. Now tell me, which impersonal, one-way street google result can ever beat that? 

So next time I ask you something, do not, I repeat, do NOT tell me to google it. (I'll ask nicely) Please? 

Thursday, September 22, 2011

The Puzzle

It's what Life is. A puzzle. A puzzle that is constantly rearranging.
Every single being who touches your life in some way makes up their own individual little piece. Every single look, every single touch, every single word, everything that matters - every little thing becomes a tiny piece of the puzzle. And that piece is constant. It is always what it is. No other piece can come and take its place. There may be other similar pieces. There may be complimentary pieces. And new pieces are added, when new people are met, new relations are forged, new paths are taken and new lives are created, each piece finds its own niche. It will disturb the other pieces, they will be disturbed, rearranged. This puzzle is not a constant, only the pieces are. And even when millions of new pieces get added, every little one always holds its own. And if it is lost, a part goes out of your puzzle forever. A puzzle shaped blank is created in your universe. Where that piece was, now you stare at nothingness.

Is your puzzle complete? Where have your missing pieces gone?