Nevertheless I smile!

A puff of insecurity,

A hug of wind,

A breath of last!

With hope,

Within limelight,

Without self!

Tearing me apart,

Tears dripping down,

Teeth still shine!

Near my thoughts,

Next to my life,

Nevertheless I smile!

Dreams and Hues

My self,

Mind echoes!

Remains of past,

Woven yesterdays!

Hills and hues,

Hindered never!

Waves of the deep

Hugged my feet!

Noiseless life

Dreamy mind!

My own being,

I wish for a day!

Bloomed for a Rain

Image Courtesy: Flicker

The grip and gambling of words have disappeared. Yet rain tempts me to write in some way or other. While reading my old blog posts, I could see the pride I held in scribbling. It is a great relief to watch rain for a few months every year. I can unwind myself. Yeah, “unwind” was a favorite word of mine once upon a time. While mastering my own mother tongue, I hardly spared time to follow universal language.

Today I am forced to write actually. My phone has zero balance. I could neither ring up someone or browse and chat via messenger apps. Above that, there is no power supply since morning. I have been watching rain all the while. Those drizzling whispered me to write. Rejecting its request is something I can’t imagine. I haven’t switched on my laptop for a few days. I was scared adverse climate would affect my laptop. No, it survived.

My desktop background is an image with definition of ‘nostalgia’. The word is defined as sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time. In reality, a visit to Coimbatore last week supports my feeling as well as explanation of nostalgia. Coimbatore is a city located in Tamil Nadu, a state located at the extreme south of Indian peninsula. Known for educational institutions, city shares its border with Kerala. Like most of the Malayalis in north Kerala, I too chose this city for my post graduation in journalism. My college is placed on the outskirts of Coimbatore. Even if I hated the institution and people inside the campus, I am still a diehard fan of its surrounding.

Image Courtesy Amrita Vishwa Vidyapeetham

To watch rain from there is heavenly. Before joining this college, one of my friends advised me that beauty of nature would make human being mad. He asked me to be careful. He was right. Many of the students especially in women’s hostel underwent treatment for depression. There was a huge hill with the shape of elephant right next to the campus. Clouds and fog used to hug and kiss it with great affection. Like devotees praying to the stone idol placed inside temple, students like me communicated silently with elephant hill.

On my visit last week, I found everything changed on the highway except the view of elephant hill. From four lanes, roads have been transformed to multi lanes. I couldn't spot my campus from the track. Still, elephant hill consoled me like the way it did five years ago. That mount and valley guarded me for two years. Whenever my mind was broken, they healed. Every time I fought with my best friend it would wipe my tears. I cannot express the amount of loneliness and harsh life I had in that campus.

 I looked upon each rain. Drops fell on earth with no mercy. Earth still waited for downpour because the soil was so dry. Each drop gave hope. But, rainy season did its duty and showed its way to another ruthless summer. Earth hoped for a colorful life. Summer sucked moisture and expectations of ground. Even tears where dried up. Again and again, earth waited for autumn for its each and every cell to flourish.

My Devotion

Holding my thoughts, I prayed a second before scribbling. I am not a devotee who fixes time for prayers and sit in front of lighted lamps with closed eyes. Mostly those who do all these might not be able to concentrate for the whole time being. Their mind would wander through all gossips they have listened to for the whole day.

My concept of prayer is serene and quiet. I can do it even while having a piece of watermelon. It is just a divine communication between me and the Almighty. For that I need no hymns or music. In fact silence is what I love during prayers. Also I don’t believe that dumping money in devotional places will please God and would give extra blessings. Instead, give it poor people. At least offer them money for a meal. Or else, give food and water to birds and animals. Similarly, water plants that are about to die. Everything around you is creation of God. Life is about offering little things that could delight others. That’s the true devotion I believe.

Let Not Be A Melancholy

Nostalgia… My favorite word in English! I’m fond of everything around. Memories of village, aroma of first downpour, film songs of my childhood days, mangoes, jackfruits, cows, rice field, river, creeks… what not! I fear if my blog’s name would come as the last item in my list of reminiscence. Writing has turned out to be a task.

‘You think in Malayalam and write in English. Better quit that habit. You should do both in same language’, my brother in law once advised me. Yeah true! Working for a daily that uses your mother tongue is really easy. Is it? Even it is tough at times. Yet we are more flexible compared to a language that you’ve learned by reading, writing and speaking.

Sincerely speaking, I lost my touch in English. Hard it is to scribble a few words. Moreover I’m  very much concerned about grammatical errors though a few of them will be spotted by MS Word itself. The flow I had three years ago is missing now. But the likes for my Facebook page is increasing day by day. Also when I attend any function, people keep asking what happened to ‘village girl’. Don’t think I am boasting. This is a platform I nurtured from nothing. I built it with words, feelings and experiences. I kept torturing people to read. Many ran away just like when you meet insurance policy agents. When the whole thing became silent, I realized there is still a handful left who read this blog seriously.

Village and greenery were my energizers. Today I am far away from both. I sit in my room in my night gowns and try to type a few group of words. I’ve kept my phones silent. I’ve learned the art of imagining so that I’d feel the smell of fresh leaves, chirping of little birds and the soothing wind even if the actual sounds around me is that of tile cutters, hammers and earth movers.

I wish to write more and more, update every now and then. Laziness and tight schedules make a fuss of everything. No more fake promises. This is the world I live, lived and will be living with my real self!