tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-95142922024-03-14T13:08:32.176+05:30Twilight MusingsArdrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.comBlogger293125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-21360220849640177102024-02-13T21:05:00.008+05:302024-02-14T07:01:47.872+05:30Aimless in Banaras - Bishwanath Ghosh<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Aimless in Benaras - it's been a couple of days since I finished reading this book by Bishwanath Ghosh- I noticed that I had purchased the book in 2020 , but I picked it up to read only now!!?? </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Just got all tangled up in the web of life I guess and perhaps now was the right time...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Bishwananth Ghosh is a writer whom I think, each reader by the time they finish reading his book, will feel that they know him very well. I have read all his other books. It is the way he writes- a breezy, conversational style...like old friends meeting up for a cup of chai chai across a rustic table in an old tea- coffee shop. However, I know that I shall perhaps never go on such a rendezvous, given that I tend to be very wary of meeting people face to face- I can get completely tongue tied. Quite an irony if you had an inkling of the ruckus that goes on in my head nonstop. All that loquaciousness, garrulousness reserved for writing out. The tangible human being unnerves me. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">While I can converse almost incessantly in my head or on paper/ monitor- (but then even that gets edited), place me in front of an intelligent being and I shall go all silent after the initial cursory small talk. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So Benaras is a place that does not figure in my list of dream destinations...the other places that Bishwanath took us along with him...seemed quaintly interesting. Aimless in Benaras, as much as I enjoyed Bishwanath's rambling style as always, still the mental association of the place with Death around every corner was extremely discomfiting. The stark, austere ambience, the dinghy, smoky gullies, the ubiquitous crowd and most imposing of all- the constant, looming proximity of that great leveller- filled my soul with a sense of doom.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Ironically, it is this very Benaras which has acquired an abiding sense of equanimity.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And it is in fact his writing style in fact which is the saving grace and transforms the reading experience.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The essence of certain lines were reassuring and redeeming in a strange way- </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">That since you are anyway going to be a heap of ash someday, you might as well be happy...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Sometimes it is this very fact that feels actually discouraging to try to be happy because anyway in the end nothing mattered, everything would end up in sorrow...What was the point in trying to dredge for happiness when you know it wouldn't last...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And yet, the way Bishwanath arrives at and lead us too towards this acceptance and surrender- I found myself free of fears and insecurities (for the time at least) because I am made to realise time and again that in the end nothing matters.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It is all a matter of perspective and to be able to trudge uphill or downhill, it made sense to look from the better perspective...it helps in the journey.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And then the objective recounting of the demolitions and divisiveness ... gives the reader a dispassionate purview of incidents that have unfolded. In today's times, one is compelled to become circumspect of everything...one is never sure about the hidden agenda. The narrator simply reports conversations of the people who are directly impacted ...their clarity of thought lends credibility to the consequences of the narrative that is being slowly and deliberately scripted/generated....</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Bishwanath's travelogues are so different- that one doesn't even want to call it a travelogue- it is such a personal jaunt, the perceptions, the perspectives, the insights are Bishwanath's personal responses to the sights, sounds and people around him- and it is through this trek that he takes us along- it is a favour to the reader- that fly on the wall vantage is what makes the entire sojourn a unique experience for the reader. </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-66834695289061760142024-02-13T21:04:00.001+05:302024-02-13T21:04:11.697+05:30Shhh...<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">My God is now too personal, too precious to me, can't bear to think that it is the same entity that all the others are loudly bandying about...creating such a furore, fighting and screaming .</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I can't bear your name being taken in hatred and anger. They have tainted my moments of Divine ecstasy with their craving for vengeance and sense of vendetta. I no longer want to wear any symbols or badges of religion</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I want to nestle your presence deep in my soul in a sea of love, compassion. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I want to keep you safe within me, hidden from the world who either perceive you as something to prove a point with or as a weapon of loathing and destruction. It hurts to think that they make you the reason for so much of hatred and conflict, all the arson and bloodshed all in your name…</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Is it actually you that they are talking about ?</span></p><div><br /></div>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-64671132093649539892024-02-13T21:00:00.005+05:302024-02-15T19:10:16.715+05:30Down to Earth...<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">That brief interlude of recklessness, abandon...paved the way to future understanding, being non judgemental.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">That she was the one with unrealistic expectations ...looking for magical beads to be strung in the tapestry of life...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">That he was contented, without questioning, without demands for magic, Stardust and so on...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">He was happy with little things...she could hear his laughter in the background as he was watching some video of a little precocious child...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">He was chuckling in absolute delight</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And that because of the brief derailment which was not detrimental she also arrived at a plateau of apparent peace-contentment..</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">No longer in search of something else...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">In a space of acceptance without resistance, she was ready to let go of aspirations of something magical without rancour or disillusionment...it no longer mattered...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Perhaps that brief phase of madness was required for her to arrive at this state of placidity</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">**********************************</span></p><div><br /></div>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-5765640938165675112024-02-04T22:47:00.006+05:302024-02-04T22:47:46.363+05:30Reality Bites<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">There always exists a plane- a virtual plane of possibilities and probabilities of places, persons, relationships that were never ventured, explored, never given a chance. A zone of 'could've beens' 'might have beens'. And because of this very elusive nature, they always present a most enticing, exciting potential. That virtual space is always magical, mystical because one shall never know...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">But the truth is Reality sucks, stings, bites...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The sheer accessibility, approachability, tangibility does not fail to shatter the magical, elusive quality to smithereens. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So it is reassuring to think that what never transpired would surely lose all its enchantment and magic if it had actually transpired.</span></p>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-38265355889846001102024-02-04T22:45:00.002+05:302024-02-04T22:45:28.884+05:30One step at a time...<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Sometimes one is fed up of being in the moment, seizing the moment...focussing on one step at a time...when one can't be sure of the long tedious path ahead...when the trudge seems to be uphill, steep ...one is focussing on the next step simply because there is no other option the light at the end of the tunnel is not visible...</span></p>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-84369104261258676932024-02-04T22:44:00.001+05:302024-02-04T22:49:15.094+05:30Vantage View<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Trying to be a writer, makes one constantly feel like one was watching incidents as they transpire, even if one is a participant, or even if it is happening to oneself, as if one was perched on a vantage point or in more contemporary terms, like one was this drone hovering above an event as it unfolded - an aerial view...or like the proverbial fly on the wall</span></p>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-52091821083842647022024-01-08T19:59:00.001+05:302024-01-08T19:59:06.489+05:30Perceptions<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The awareness of distaste, bitterness, vileness in another's mind against you, if it haunts you is it because one is needy , needy for approval, to maintain a goody goody image, need to be liked by everyone if possible, makes one willing to withdraw from arguments, avoid confrontations, willing to even apologise for a perceived wrong being committed and if yes is that a bad thing...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">About how people perceive you, read you, your actions, behaviour, words, interpret and go on with complete conviction that what they have understood of you is 100% correct and accurate...and you move on thinking that you are projecting yourself in a particular way without an inkling that the two are so different...it is sometimes so amusing...and what you actually are is also probably an illusion</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-68542328542871416372024-01-08T19:50:00.004+05:302024-01-14T09:20:11.912+05:30Mundane Banter<p> </p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">They would narrate memories so innocently, cast aspersions so gently that they landed without a flutter. But she knew that they were not malicious by intent - it was more an instinct of self- righteousness, a 'holier than thou attitude'. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Well-meaning adults of that era would have imbibed such nasty traits of pettiness – without realising it- and would vehemently deny if confronted with it. They believed that they were the epitome of Humanity, consideration benevolence and compassion. However, their statements in fact were most judgmental, tactless and insensitive. They would cheerfully narrate stories of seemingly harmless anecdotes- but would very casually insert nuggets of criticism and mockery. They would however couch it in a deceptive aura of amusement, fake appreciation what we call as back handed compliments.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">She was told how the children of her family would come to the temple tank wearing red konakam- loincloth. They said that they looked so cute and charming- wearing the red ones- the ones that only children of the ____ community wore- and not what the Ambalavasis wore. The Ambalavasi children –wore the white ones…</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Another story that was meant to regale was how her grandfather neglected acknowledging them during earlier days- in spite of being his kin- however he was overly attentive to the others from the ‘Big House.’ – implying that this was because of the latter's higher standing in society. How they would wait eagerly to be noticed by the illustrious uncle- the grandfather - but never did and how they had felt so hurt. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">How her grandfather was so fond of wearing gold jewellery- multiple chains and rings…all this was said in a tone of apparent casual mention masking the veiled scorn. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Then there was this other story of how he did not think twice about usurping a water pot that was gifted to his daughter at her wedding- which would have actually been so useful for the latter because she was to live in a place where water was scarce. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">She had also been advised to be kind and not demand share of the family property and be generous to the said aunt!! Talk about crossing boundaries and that too based on false assumptions and in the pretext of being benevolent and compassionate.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">There was this other tale of how her proud grandmother had this infamous rivalry with another matriarch of the ‘Big House’. How they vied with each other for putting down the other- a constant show of one up man (woman?) ship. All these stories were undoubtedly narrated with harmless intent and was being shared for mere conversation- and she had to sit there listening feeling very blessed to be privy to such enticing family lore. She was thus regaled by such stories of her family’s pettiness and foibles in a tone of benevolent banter.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">She used to get very incited in the earlier days because she had to listen to these stories attentively and with feigned interest. To have responded in any other manner would have been inappropriate. Her indignation would have been perceived as hypersensitivity, misunderstanding innocent banter as malicious- that was so not done, and so she would sit right there listening to the stories of her family’s indiscretions and foibles with amicable nods and a sagacious smile.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">She was informed with a cheeky chuckle how the children of her family were called the ‘Dark pack’ because they were dusky in complexion – and hirsute to top- this was hilarious because while the ‘smooth, hairless band took pride in their ‘smooth skin’- her family sneered that the ‘hairless’ were butter skinned- including the men- because obviously to be macho one needed to be blessed with a fair amount of hair. So, Body shaming was the norm and was indulged in like there was no tomorrow-</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Sensitivity, kindness, tact, compassion was gibberish- and for the ‘touch me nots’. To take offence to such ‘harmless’, ‘witty’ banter would have been sacrilegious. One would be labelled as intolerant, over sensitive, fussy, and temperamental to imagine insinuations in mundane conversations!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span>As a young bride, one was eager to impress with one’s housekeeping skills, cooking prowess. One went to extraordinary lengths to keep everything spic and span- but when the inspection retinue arrived- woe be to you- as if they would even notice the effort! The ‘benevolent’ family that they believed themselves to be, would rearrange every single thing in the house- including the delicates in her cupboards. Her saris would be cut up to sew curtains- without even a cursory ‘by your leave’. </span><span>All the groceries would have changed places, and she would have to hunt for condiments in her own kitchen. </span><span>One evening, when she had returned after an errand, </span><span>the dining hall had been transformed into the storeroom and vice versa . </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">For years, she tried to convince herself that these were all acts of kindness and magnanimity. Eventually, when she had learnt to navigate her way through ‘housekeeping- they still found it necessary to guide her. Much later, when she finally asserted her freedom in her own home it was perceived as an act of rebellion!</span></p><div><br /></div>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-69440917512645968532024-01-08T19:45:00.032+05:302024-02-15T19:11:43.426+05:30Sanctuary- A Mirage<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It is so evident- that sense of relief that they don’t have to bear with this kind of behaviour for too long- that they were glad that they had a place to run off to- to escape- to get away- a place that was so much more better. A life that was so much more alluring, so much more empowering . How did she feel about it- she tried to make some sense of her thoughts .</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">She had no such place to get away to- no place to return to- for this life was what she had to experience- there was no running away. This was the yarn that the tapestry of her life was made of. While she believed that she did not feel resentful- she did feel wistful. She felt that there was only so much that she could make the best of. There were boundaries that couldn’t be crossed. She realised that she had to accept her reality- and best without rancour, regret or resentment. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Some conversations refused to be wiped away from memory- like the time when she overheard them saying how glad they were that they had made the decision to go away- far away from this place. That their home was elsewhere- they were willing to stretch themselves a bit now ad then because they had the reassurance of getting away soon- away from it all- to another world afar- a world of wishes and choices coming alive. She found herself wondering if she was living in a lesser place. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Perhaps it was all a mirage where the grass always looks greener on the other side. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">She knew she had to make peace with her reality, convince herself that the existence of a sanctuary was in the mind. </span></p>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-10477980331303282722024-01-08T19:42:00.005+05:302024-01-09T18:46:05.115+05:30Alter ego <p> </p><p><span style="font-size: large;">When one has so much to tell, so much to express but one has no suitable listeners- at least not the kind one aspires for- because the ideal listener could only be oneself. However, the thoughts needs to be expelled- the words need to be uttered- albeit soundlessly. And when one writes it down in words- lo behold! It is like one has the ideal listeners arrayed right there in front - hanging on to every single articulation! </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The other day I was reading a renowned author's reminiscences- the person in the writings was so loquacious- Here was a person who has so much to say- so many observations, so many insights, opinions. A whole new person emerged couched in the armour of words. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">In real life he comes across as so remote, so distant- his demeanour always so stoic and grim, as if he actually abhors company. The people who are familiar with this outward persona wearing the mask of inscrutability - would hardly be able to believe or even imagine the gamut of thoughts and emotions running amok within. A soul that throbbed so tremulously, and yet concealed so adroitly. The readers upon getting acquainted with the hidden thoughts crystallised in words are amazed that the entity revealed in the writings and the outward opaque persona were one and the same.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span>This world of words and language of the author feels like an invitation into the sacrosanct precincts of another universe – the doors are left wide open for the reader to explore, to relate, connect and </span><span>marvel- every nook and cranny, every tile and crevice feel familiar. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span>We the readers, are given access to that hidden persona only through the world of words- and not otherwise- nobody gets a peek into it any other way. It is like this whole another person was caged within the deceptively grim, stoic carapace. This was someone who was trapped and yet did not seek freedom in the mundane manner- someone who would leap into the external canvas only through the strokes of the pen. As the readers get familiar with the rambunctious, impish person who is so fascinating within the sheath of assumed indifference and enigma, and then when they encounter the forbidding eyes on the countenance – the impact is mindblowing! </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span>The reader experiences an impish delight at having caught somebody red handed while indulging in some maverick mischief and is compelled to feel a camaraderie- almost to a back slapping level- with the writer of these thoughts- and yet the forbidding visible demeanour makes the reader ponder if one of them is an impostor- the writer or the written!??</span></span></p><div><br /></div>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-3078420322890740842024-01-08T19:37:00.004+05:302024-01-14T16:17:06.515+05:30Writing Exercise...<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I have this weird thing about smells and odours that emanate from living bodies. It grosses me out completely. The most charismatic person or the most sublime entity- the thought that such people emanating BO, bad breath, digestive gases grosses me out. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">For eg; when I watch a scene in movies where the hero and the heroine wake up and then cuddle- kiss- I keep thinking about morning breath- ya, I know they are acting- but I can't help thinking about couples kissing in the morning - grosses me out!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Why do I even think of such things- don’t ask me. Why do I have to let such thoughts corrupt the most sublime images and concepts- beats me. To have one’s imagination be sullied by such ideas is such a put off! I do wonder if any one in this world also thinks of such useless things- I dare not ask- what if it only me- what if I am an anomaly/ aberration- what would others think if they knew that I thought of such crazy things. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div><br /></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;">मेरा एक विचित्र स्वभाव है. मुझे जीव जंतुवों से उद्भव होने वाली गंधों के बारे में सोचकर मन में घिन्न या जुगुप्सा महसूस करती हूँ. प्रस्तुत व्यक्ति चाहे जितने भी प्रभावशाली हो, या फिर जितना भी सुन्दर हो- मेर मन में अचानक उसके शरीर या मुँह से उत्पन्न होने वाली गंध के बार में याद आती है और उस व्यक्ति के मनोहर छवि चकनाचूर हो जाती है. ऐसी बेकार चीज़ों के बारे में क्यों सोचती हूँ- मुझे नहीं पता- कभी कभी सोचती हूँ की क्या कोई और इस दुनिया में मेर ेजैसे सोचने वाले भी होंगे क्या - पता नहीं- शायद नहीं - यह सवाल पूछने से भी हिचकती हूँ- शायद केवल मैं ही हूँ जो इस तरह बकवास चीज़ों के बारे में सोचती हूँ. वह लोग मेर बारे में क्या सोचेंगे अगर उन्हें मालूम हुआ की मैं इस तरह के बेकार बातों के बारे में सोचती हूँ-</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">എനിക്ക് വിചിത്രമായ ഒരു സ്വഭാവമുണ്ട് . ജീവ ജാലങ്ങളിൽ നിന്ന് വമിക്കുന്ന ഗന്ധങ്ങൾ , ദുർഗന്ധങ്ങൾ എന്നിവയെ പറ്റി ഓർത്ത് അലോസരപ്പെടുക . എത്ര കേമനായ വ്യക്തിയാണെങ്കിലും , അതുല്യ സൗന്ദര്യമുള്ള വ്യക്തിയാണെങ്കിലും, അവരിൽ നിന്ന് സ്വാഭാവികമായി വമിക്കാവുന്ന ശരീര ഗന്ധം, വായ്നാറ്റം ദഹന പ്രക്രിയ മൂലമുളവാകുന്ന ദുർഗന്ധങ്ങൾ - എന്നിവയെ കുറിച്ച് ഓർമ്മ വരികയും - അതിനാൽ മനസ്സിൽ ഇവരെ .കുറിച്ച് വരഞ്ഞിരുന്ന ച്ഛവിക്കു കോട്ടം തട്ടുന്നു. എന്തിനു ഇങ്ങനെയൊക്കെ ഓർക്കണമെന്ന് ചോദിച്ചാൽ അതിനുത്തരമില്ല. ലോകത്തിൽ വേറെയാരെങ്കിലും ഇതേ മാതിരി ചിന്തിക്കുമോ - ഇല്ലായിരിക്കും. അഗ്രഗണ്യമായ/ അസുലഭ വ്യക്തിത്വത്തിനുടമയായിട്ടുള്ളവർ /സൗന്ദര്യ ധാമങ്ങളായിട്ടുള്ളവർ - ഇവരെ കുറിച്ചാലോചിക്കുമ്പോൾ , അപ്രതീക്ഷിതമായി അവരെ കുറിച്ച് ഈ വക കാര്യങ്ങളും ഓർമ്മ വരികയും, അതിനെ തുടർന്നു മനസ്സിൽ തെളിഞ്ഞിരുന്ന ഭംഗിയുള്ള ചിത്രം താറുമാറാകുന്നു . </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-30453660927793459002023-11-30T20:08:00.002+05:302023-11-30T20:36:17.750+05:30Memory Nuggets<p> <span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">“Hello, Aditi Ma’am, are you busy?”</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">“No, Rasi, tell me…”</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">“Aditi Ma’am, you remember Manan from Steve’s batch?”</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">“ Ya…-</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Aditi felt a small spiral of foreboding churning in the pit of her stomach. Bad news? Were the dreaded words going to be uttered from the other end?</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">And then there it followed- “Ma’am, Manan passed away in a road accident some time ago- the car in which he was traveling rammed into a lorry- there were 4 other boys - 3 of them died on the spot- the other 2 are critical…</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Aditi remembered asking some questions, but the answers did not register. Manan’s face flashed in Aditi’s mind- his disarming, child-like smile – the incipient moustache did not lend itself to his appearing grown up- probably, now after 4 years he must be looking more like the young man he is- was!</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Aditi kept uttering ‘Chhe’- over and over again- as if the expletive would undo what had apparently happened. It was weird how sometimes one felt that if one could simply rewind a few moments, the undesirable incident could be undone.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">After keeping the phone aside, Aditi was seized by an instinct to reach out to others who knew Manan- the other teachers- she dialed her friend and colleague Nayana- the line was engaged…she thought of sharing a message in her friends’ group- and then she noticed that the Principal had already shared the news in the school group and condolence messages were flowing in.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Aditi paced around the hall absentmindedly- she gazed up at the framed picture on the wall- that picture gifted to each of their teachers by Manan’s batch after the farewell 4 years ago. Her gaze remained glued on the smiling image of the boy- 2nd from right...</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">That moment between the ‘is’ transitioning into the ‘was’- the amorphous space was something Aditi often grappled with-. The proximity between the two moments always seemed so murky – so dicey that one deludes oneself that it was still possible to transit between one zone to the other. Why wasn’t anybody doing that- trying to turn the clock back- That nebulous margin between ‘what if’s and ‘if only’s…that one detrimental moment which could be swapped to rework Destiny… set right the world that had crumbled …Wishful thinking overpowers rationale- that zone where logic doesn’t prevail.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">The images continued to float in her mind’s eye- Manan’s lanky form shuffling down the school corridor with an impish grin on his stubble ridden face. Aditi tried to remember the times they had spoken- apart from academic concerns- she wondered if their interactions had been confined to nods and smiles of acknowledgement. Aditi had always been discomfited by the realisation that sometimes teachers had no inkling of the lives of their students beyond the precincts of the school. Aditi’s thoughts veered to Manan’s parents and a boulder sunk into the pit of her stomach. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Aditi then dialed the Principal Ma’am’s number. The line was busy. The Principal called back in a few moments. Her voice was broken. She filled in the details- each word felt like a stab. Aditi just listened- she could find no words- just some incoherent sounds escaped her lips.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">After disconnecting the call, Aditi stood in the balcony gazing unseeingly into the distance for how long, she had no idea. As the moments slithered by like an oil slick, the sense of irrevocable doom slowly sunk in rendering a sense of utter hopelessness.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">She was reminded of Manan’s friends. They had been such a thick band and kept in touch through the years after leaving school. They must be devastated. The thought caused a dull, nagging ache behind her eyes...solidifying into a headache. She reached out to each of them through messages.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Two days later, the boys came to meet the Principal and they asked to meet Aditi also. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Aditi’s heart lurched when she saw the distraught boys. There were some moments of deafening silence in the room. No one could find words … finally Steve broke the ice- and then the others also shared their memory nuggets of their departed friend. Unuttered sobs and sniffles hovered in the air… and somehow there in the Principal’s cabin, Manan’s presence seemed looming amidst the grieving souls in those moments of shared loss. The boys were aching… Aditi could offer no words of solace.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">The space of suspended belief is such a colloidal bubble- as she watched the receding figures of the boys, her heart went out to them- to the bereaved parents- the elder brother- and finally the tears that Aditi had been holding back with utmost effort spilled down her cheeks….</span></span></p><div><br /></div><div class="gA gt acV" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border-bottom-left-radius: 0px; border-bottom-right-radius: 0px; border-top: none; color: #222222; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.875rem; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; width: auto;"><div class="gB xu" jslog="184332; u014N:xr6bB;" style="border-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"><div class="ip iq" style="border-top: none; clear: both; margin: 0px; padding: 16px 0px;"><div id=":pb"><table class="cf wS" role="presentation" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><tbody><tr><td class="amq" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px 16px; vertical-align: top; visibility: hidden; width: 44px;"></td><td class="amr" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px; width: 812.79px;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div></div></div>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-25087184576338276242023-05-16T12:30:00.002+05:302023-05-16T12:30:34.688+05:30The In- Law Conundrum<p> </p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Being a daughter and a daughter in law as well as a new mother in law brings in so many divergent perspectives simultaneously. One doesn't want to repeat errors even inadvertently. One doesn't want to tread on toes. One wishes to be able to let go, let be. One wants to be as inconspicuous as possible. After all one has had one's own share of life though some parts involved trying to fit in, trying to assimilate, trying to blend in. And all during a time when trying to create one's own pattern was considered transgression of family norms. One should not seek one's own niche in the next generation's nest. One should remember it is their time to create and foster their own. One should not keep yearning for one's past. One should not attempt to recreate one's past in the younger generation's present and tamper with their future. One should remember one has had one's go at it and if one . ...not made use of it optimally, the next generation should not be made to pay for it. Sit back and enjoy watching them going for it. Help if and when asked. Let them create their sacred memories. You don't have to belong to it. Your picture is complete. Hang on the wall unobtrusively. Lend a few hues now and then if they wish so and let them decide how to mix the colours to create a new, fresh, unique masterpiece.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">There is no need to treat the MIL as a mother or the DIL as a daughter, be ause don't we know that one can be super critical, harsh and taunting with one's own- such is the liberty within the relationship. Instead behave in the way you would have liked your MIL to treat you, or in the way you wish your daughter is treated by her MIL...</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-44433952217148662142023-05-16T11:50:00.003+05:302023-05-16T11:50:38.636+05:30Lost and Not Found...<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="color: #050505; font-size: medium;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Today the strains of an old favourite song travelled to my ears- the lyrics of which once caressed my soul… for a moment, I remembered how it felt to be moved by music- touched by the lyrics. I realised I had almost completely forgotten the sensation. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #050505; font-size: medium;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">When did Music stop speaking to me? Or was it I who stopped listening? </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #050505; font-size: medium;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">The lyrics, the melody that once made my soul soar high, sent shivers of bliss up my spine, left a smile lurking on my lips- and may be even a teardrop glistening on my eyelid…</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #050505; font-size: medium;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">When did I arrive here on this parched land, where music stopped speaking to me? When did this happen and why? </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #050505; font-size: medium;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">And then like today, when a random strain borne by the wind falls upon the ear, a faint rustle from deep within, a vaguely familiar sensation…</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #050505; font-size: medium;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">A soft sigh escapes from a forgotten yearning- not for the music but for that exquisite sensation gone missing-</span></span></p>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-62714592658631348142021-04-03T22:04:00.005+05:302023-03-25T21:18:03.842+05:30The women of the past generation- the great indian kitchen <p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505; font-size: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">They were always in a rush- every cell of their body was trained to move
in haste as if on wheels. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505; font-size: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Fear, devotion, deference and servility were their hallmarks in all
situations. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505; font-size: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Moreover, society had already convinced them that their foremost duty,
responsibility and above all love towards the family could be demonstrated only through untiring service
day in and day out. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their very existence
was built around these notions. If questioned, they would emphatically insist
that they nursed no grievance, no complaints and bore no resentment or bitterness. It was all about complicit compliance. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505; font-size: 16pt;">They would be in the grip of fear and anxiety in most circumstances. They dreaded being the cause for any delay- they shuddered at the thought of being admonished and humiliated in public and were ready to go to any lengths to escape the wrath of the men in charge. Often, they wouldn’t be given time to even dress properly- and there were occasions when they wouldn’t even have had the time to wear their slippers when stepping out of the house!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505; font-size: 16pt;">And in spite of taking all precautions, it was still possible that some obscure reason would be found to upbraid them- and this they would endure with a profound sense of self-reproach, fully believing that they deserved to be admonished. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505; font-size: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">They enumerate with immense pride and sense of achievement, stories of the
umpteen number of dishes they have cooked, the innumerable guests they have served, and the countless vessels
they have washed for years together. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505; font-size: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505; font-size: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">They laud and encourage <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>other
women who have lived similar lives- they believe that however huge a
responsibility or post a woman might hold professionally, it is still desirable
that she displays exemplary culinary skills, rejoices in celebrating festivals,
entertaining guests, extending impeccable hospitality at every possible opportunity.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #050505; font-size: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #050505;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">It is highly probable that the women
of the erstwhile generation would condemn
the movie ‘The Great Indian Kitchen’. </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">After all, it would not be easy for them
</span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">to let go of these deeply embedded
values overnight – values that they had been holding close for years together with utmost commitment. Besides, it would mean negating a lifetime of toil and care –
why -the very purpose of their existence would be invalidated! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">#thegreatindiankitchen #thegreatindiankitchenmalayalam #thegreatindiankitchentamil</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-54614892783403104602021-01-21T23:51:00.020+05:302023-03-25T20:59:23.755+05:30A girl gets married to the Kitchen- The Great Indian Kitchen!🤭<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><i>Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.</i>😉</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">It was no longer her battle. The kitchen was no longer a platform to prove her efficiency as a homemaker. To cook or not to cook was purely her choice. But it had not been like this always. Watching the movie- 'The Great Indian Kitchen' brought to the surface the memories that had been buried for years now-</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How she was reprimanded for not remembering to keep
the jug of water on the dining table- at lunchtime. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How she was shamed because the buckets were not sparkling. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How the ladies had to remain in ‘attendance’ while the
men were eating and not <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>be chatting
shamelessly with one another in the kitchen- delaying to serve crispy hot
dosas straight from the pan. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How one had to bathe early in the morning- dress up
well with the bindi and thaali mala in place and not look dishevelled in spite of the chores. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How the entire day was about planning the menu for the
next meal-<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in elaborate detail. Life
was all about – only about and nothing
but about planning the menu, cooking, eating and cleaning up. <o:p></o:p></span>Reading, writing, singing, dancing, drawing- why- even thinking and dreaming was out of bounds...🥴</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How by the time the last of the ladies finished lunch
it would be time for tea and snacks for the first set of gentlemen! 😀<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How after a long tiring journey, one had to
immediately sit down to chop and cut humongous jackfruits ('gifted' by loving relatives) to make chips, jam
and whatever. While the gents would be resting!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How she was trained to make pickles- while being reminded that she had not been taught such an important life skill at her home, and God
forbid if it was festival time or family functions. Waking up at ungodly hours
to chop vegetables, scrape and grind coconuts endlessly for the umpteen number of dishes to be cooked.🤦🏽♀️ <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How the very next day after her wedding she was asked to
pour idli batter into the idli moulds- while being watched if she managed to do
it without spilling it. They were afraid she would make a mess of it- but it
was announced: “She needs to be trained”! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How there was the tradition to have the latest
recruit/ bride serve the guests during the family function to ensure she knew
how to do it right. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How it was sacrilegious if one's left hand touched the serving dish inadvertently while serving, how one had to collect and balance the used banana leaves precariously, </span>how one had to pick up the leftovers spilt on the floor, then sprinkle water in one direction- wipe it out with the palm in another- and then the final swab with the assigned piece of cloth- all this under the watchful eyes of critical elders...it was harrowing! 😅</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Not being able to slurp one's way through the flowing payasam from the banana leaf was also an unforgivable lapse. 😋😋</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How she was ca</span>lled into the office room by well-meaning uncles- and given a dressing down on how to plan her daily chores-
maintain a ‘timetable’.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How she was handed a letter- explaining to her in the ‘kindest’
of words that she was being a bad homemaker- bad daughter in law- because sometimes
her sulks showed. Because she had to cook full course feast spreads almost
every day- and cater to visitors cheerfully. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">How even when casual visitors dropped in, they were
persuaded to stay back for lunch/ dinner- elaborate ones at that, so much so that relatives used to schedule their shopping expeditions in the city such
that they would land up in their house for food knowing very well that they
were going to be persuaded to stay for meals. And revelling in the great slogan-
‘Athithi Devo Bhava’, the glory of serving food to people- and special brownie points if they happened to be brahmins! 😇</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How she shouldn’t be listening to music as she worked.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How another relative brushed his finger across the shelf
and showed her the dust on it...<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How she was asked to prepare tea just as she was about
to sit thinking the day’s chores were finally done- <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How one had to cool the piping hot tea- and then
reheat it again because it was a wee bit too cool! <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How, if one handed over the tea a little earlier than usual, one was chided, 'trying to finish off the chores soon eh?"</span>🥴</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How one had to prepare the same dish in different
ways- with lots of coconut, with a little coconut and with no coconut.😅<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How there had to be three types of curds with varying
degrees of sourness.😅<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How the new sheets had to be changed because they
smelt ‘new’!😆<o:p></o:p></span>🥴</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How she used to clean her house top to bottom
frantically- <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>because visitors were
arriving the next day- and the thoughtful ‘visitors’ would rearrange every
single thing that she had to hunt for things in her own home. And how she was
expected to be grateful for this kindness. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">How she was ‘taught’ to make sambharam-
buttermilk<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the right way- with the right
ingredients- in the right measure- and then when she prepared the same for
another elder- he gave her another lecture on how she had done it all wrong and
proceeded to give her another recipe- for preparing buttermilk. <o:p></o:p></span>🤷🏾♀️🥴</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Watching this movie- made her stomach go queasy! She wanted
to scream from the rooftops- those well-meaning elders- some had already
crossed the threshold- and the others were too old- no point in waging any
battle- proving any point<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and yet how she
wished this movie had been made around 30 years ago…🙄 <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A girl gets married to the Kitchen- The Great Indian
Kitchen!🤭 <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p><div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">#thegreatindiankitchen #thegreatindiankitchenmalayalam #thegreatindiankitchentamil</span></p></div><div><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-19833196693491806182018-05-02T12:24:00.004+05:302018-05-02T12:30:07.810+05:30NaPoWriMo 27 <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So the tortoise is still at Prompt 27: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We challenge you to <a href="http://www.sacred-texts.com/tarot/pkt/index.htm"><span style="border: none 1.0pt; color: #778ead; padding: 0in;">pick
a card</span></a> (any card) from this online guide to the tarot, and then
to write a poem inspired either by the card or by the images or ideas that are
associated with it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is the card that I picked : </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.sacred-texts.com/tarot/pkt/img/ar03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.sacred-texts.com/tarot/pkt/img/ar03.jpg" data-original-height="519" data-original-width="300" height="200" width="115" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I was not sure how to go about it. I began by actually describing what I saw and then it evolved into a message about saving the Earth. I don't think it was a conscious process. So this is what I came up with :</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Daughter of The Sun<o:p></o:p></b></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Where has she gone?<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Did we send her on exile?<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Seated she was<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>On scarlet velvet cushions<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Wearing a tiara of starry gems <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Robed in satin silky sheen<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Falling about her stockinged feet<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<i style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">in downy ripples</span></i></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>A benign smile adorned <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>her firm and gentle countenance<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>eyes swimming with kindness and resilience<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>The shield of Venus abounding <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>in love, vitality and courage<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>lay by the side<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Holding aloft a marble sceptre<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Hand raised in blessing<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Bestowing Power and fortitude<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Bequeathing lushness of grain<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>And abundance of water<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>We need to find her and reclaim her<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>We need to cajole, coax , convince her <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Never again shall we disregard her<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Never again shall we plunder her<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>We need to bring back her regime<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Before the day of Doom <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Gains upon us!<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-22848292611315232642018-05-01T09:55:00.000+05:302018-05-01T10:38:26.570+05:30NaPoWriMo Day 26.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;">Had been traveling. The poetry challenge is over, but I wish to try out the various prompts. Today I attempt this one:</span></i><br />
<br />
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">"Write a poem that includes images
that engage all five senses. Try to be as concrete and exact as possible with
the “feel” of what the poem invites the reader to see, smell, touch, taste and
hear."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">And then I was reminded of a translation that I did of my cousin's poem a few months back. Since I feel that this poem is replete with the 5 sensations, I present the same. The original was in Malayalam. </span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>Do you
converse with the walls?<br />
They may have no arms, but they can<br />
bind you fast between their expansive, sleek veneers.<br />
<br />
Keep up the chatter and<br />
They might end up reaching out to our dialect<br />
and we might end up living in theirs<br />
And some might pierce through our warmth<br />
Imbuing their concrete chill…<br />
<br />
Be warned though of Ancient walls –<br />
They might ensconce you deep<br />
into their decrepit slumbering leaves<br />
Taunt you with memories of bygone youth<br />
Making you shudder in chagrin<br />
Before their towering vainglory<br />
<br />
However…<br />
The new pristine walls through a forgotten switch<br />
may gently graze your brows<br />
with sizzling current;<br />
Caress your forehead with<br />
the dust off a Picture frame<br />
<br />
A distressing odour of the paint<br />
clings all over<br />
and whispers into your ears: “WE”!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-41212402720837830832018-04-26T18:44:00.003+05:302018-04-26T18:50:46.368+05:30NaPoWriMo18 Prompt 3<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%;">My
writing is all disorderly. So today I work with the Day 3 prompt which says: </span><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 115%;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"> "Write a poem that
plays with voice. For example, you might try writing a stanza that recounts
something in the first-person, followed by a stanza recounting the same
incident in the second-person, followed by a stanza that treats the incident
from a third-person point of view. Or you might try a poem in the form of a
dialogue, which necessarily has two “I” speakers, addressing two “you”s.
Another way to go is to take an existing poem of yours or someone else’s, and
try rewriting it in a different voice. The point is just to play with who is
speaking to who and how. </span></span></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 115%;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">SHE : ( 3<sup>rd</sup>
person) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She struts about
like she is royal<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Her nose up in
the air</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She looks you in
the eye<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And answers like
she dared you <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There is no smile
<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">on her little
upturned lips<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She shrugs her
mane<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">like the wind was
her play thing… <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cached2.static.festy.jp/thumbnail/?mediaPath=festy_production%2F2016%2F03%2F13%2F11%2F16%2F20%2F751%2Fo0480035511972799055.jpg&width=620&height&sha=1de001f74c6b33aad71c15fcfbba663acd2d1e08" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://cached2.static.festy.jp/thumbnail/?mediaPath=festy_production%2F2016%2F03%2F13%2F11%2F16%2F20%2F751%2Fo0480035511972799055.jpg&width=620&height&sha=1de001f74c6b33aad71c15fcfbba663acd2d1e08" data-original-height="459" data-original-width="620" height="147" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PC: from the www</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She twirls her
pretty little fingers<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Drawing graceful
arcs in the air<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She sashays past ,</span></i><i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.4px;">with cheeky impudence</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i><i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.4px;">swinging her arms, </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.4px;">her head in the clouds</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You can’t help
but</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Stand by star
gazed…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">How can she be so
forthright<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It is not her
time <o:p></o:p></span></i><i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.4px;">yet</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She needs to
wait, she needs to learn<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Before she earns
her worth<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I : ( 1<sup>st</sup>
person) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>I am just
a young girl<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Searching
for my bearings<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>I wish
you looked at me <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>A little
more kindly<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>With a
little more understanding<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>But I
shall not ask, I shall not plead<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Don’t
judge me by the way I walk, talk or look<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/gundam/images/4/4b/Rel-ew.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20110305212246" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="241" data-original-width="270" height="179" src="https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/gundam/images/4/4b/Rel-ew.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20110305212246" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PC: from the www</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Don’t
look at me with scorn in your eye<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Don’t
look at me like I know nothing about life <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>I may not,
but I am learning<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>I shall
not cower nor crouch<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>I am not
afraid to learn<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>I too
have my fears, I too have my doubts<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>But I don’t let them <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>mirror in
my eye<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Pacing
with steady steps<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Looking at
the world straight in the eye<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Gives me
the strength <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>To deal
with what comes on life’s platter<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>You think
you’ve got me all sorted<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>But let
me tell you <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>The story
may be different from <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><i>
</i></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>What strikes
the eye…</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">YOU : ( 2<sup>nd</sup>
person) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Don’t you
see? <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>She is a
child woman<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>She is
evolving<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>She is
vulnerable<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>She is
fragile<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>The
fingers of life<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>are reaching
out to her<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Sometimes
in gentle caresses <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/53/51/0b/53510bbbceb4629759a3501c2afdfaa0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="112" src="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/53/51/0b/53510bbbceb4629759a3501c2afdfaa0.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PC: from the www</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>And sometimes
in shoves<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Be gentle,
be kind<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Don’t you
remember?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>How you
longed to be understood<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>To be accepted,
to be liked <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Don’t you
see a little you and me<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>In her
eyes, in her words<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>And in
her deeds? <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Is it
really not so easy<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>To cast
the gaze of love<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>To stride
along unobtrusively<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>With a
gentle pat, a tender hug<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>To just
let her know you care<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Just to
be there<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>If and
when needed…<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><i><br /></i></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><i>( all images are from the internet. ) </i></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 115%;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"></span></div>
Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-15876540619731922832018-04-25T15:27:00.002+05:302018-04-25T15:32:08.958+05:30NaPoWriMo 18: Prompt 25 : Warning Label<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<span style="background: white; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Today, we challenge
you to write a poem that takes the form of a warning label . . . for yourself!</span><br />
<span style="background: white; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="background: white; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="background: white; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>Caution! </b></span><br />
<span style="background: white; font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>Fragile!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>Handle with kid gloves!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>Tread with care ! <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>Waterworks in progress!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>Take Diversion!</i></span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>Explosive terrain ahead!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="font-size: 14pt;">Searing Sarcasm Expert!</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>Thick skinned apparel advised!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>Specialist in Cold shoulder treatment<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Prudence recommended!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Shhhh! Silence mode!
<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Breathe only if absolutely
essential!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>Introspective Mode!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Don’t disturb! <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>Brainstorming session<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Participation mandatory!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Loving cap on<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Abject surrender Imperative
!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-76715113236398843362018-04-25T14:25:00.001+05:302018-04-25T14:48:46.988+05:30NaPoWriMo 18 : Prompt (1) : Secret Pleasure/ Secret Shame <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">1. Write
a poem that is based on a secret shame, or a secret pleasure<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A secret shame or
a secret pleasure?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The secret shames
or the secret pleasures?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This one or that
one<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So many buried
under the avalanche of memories<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes I rake
one up <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Some harmless,
innocent ones<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And some not so
pleasant<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Some real awkward
that I shudder with shame<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And some bring a
smile <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">On my face<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And then I
realize<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One just cannot
grow up too soon<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One shall commit
the deeds of <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Folly of
innocence and ignorance<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There is no
skipping to maturity <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One stumbles and
falls<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Before one takes
steps of<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Confidence and
cognizance!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<h3 class="r" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;">
<a href="https://quotidianthings.com/2018/04/11/napowrimo18-day-11/" ping="/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=https://quotidianthings.com/2018/04/11/napowrimo18-day-11/&ved=0ahUKEwjO5frgitXaAhXJgI8KHT7uCD8QFghXMAs" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer;">#NaPoWriMo18</a></h3>
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Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-2992417003893452832018-04-24T16:06:00.000+05:302018-04-25T14:44:26.012+05:30NaPoWriMo Prompt 24 <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18.6667px;">And from Prompt 1, I jump straight onto Prompt 24! Why? Because Prompt 24 says: </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18.6667px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18.6667px;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Today’s craft resource is a long-ish <span style="color: #38761d;"><a href="http://criticalflame.org/failing-to-make-out-of-absence-toward-poiesis/"><span style="text-decoration: none;">essay by Hyejung Kook</span></a> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">regarding how poetry can be created
from absence, or in the wake of loss, and how awareness of mortality drives a
desire to produce art, people, poems.</span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Today, we’d like to challenge you to write an elegy
– a poem typically written in honor or memory of someone dead. But we’d like to
challenge you to write an elegy that has a hopefulness to it. Need inspiration?
You might look at W.H. Auden’s elegy for <a href="https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/memory-w-b-yeats"><span style="color: #38761d; text-decoration: none;">Yeats</span></a>, which ends on a note suggesting that the great poet’s
work will live on, inspiring others in years to come. Or perhaps this
elegy <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/49508/you-were-you-are-elegy"><span style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">by </span><span style="color: #38761d; text-decoration: none;">Mary Jo Bang</span></a><span style="color: #38761d;">,</span> where the sadness is shot through with a
sense of forgiveness on both sides.</span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And since I had already written something a few years ago on these lines, I thought I might as well post it here. It is about a very special person who left in 2010. </span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">To someone who
left...</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><br /></span>
</b><i><span style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Hi, are you there? Are you listening?<br />
I want to tell you
something<br />
I am angry, very
angry<br />
But sometimes I
miss you, lots…<br />
But let me also
tell you that<br />
sometimes I don’t…<br />
You know,<br />
Sometimes I want to
talk to you<br />
Sometimes I just
want to listen to you<br />
And sometimes I
don’t know what I actually wish-<br />
Sometimes I think I
should wipe out every memory,<br />
every thought of
you…<br />
And sometimes I want<br />
to cling to even
the tiniest moment<br />
And don’t want to
let go ever…<br />
Sometimes I ask
why, how..<br />
Sometimes I just
don’t care…<br />
Sometimes I think<br />
I’m getting used to
your absence<br />
And sometimes I
feel its unbearable<br />
Sometimes I think
I’ll get over you…<br />
And everything will
be fine,I’ll keep moving on<br />
And sometimes I’m
stuck, I am lost<br />
Sucked into a
bottomless vortex<br />
Struggling to stay
afloat<br />
<br />
Sometimes suddenly
I get the feeling you are right here<br />
Right in front of
me or by my side<br />
And when I reach
out<br />
Colliding into the
emptiness and the silence<br />
A sinking feeling
in the pit of my stomach<br />
A wrench in my
heart, a sob in my throat<br />
Reminding me that
you are not here nor anywhere<br />
Sometimes I think I
heard you giggle<br />
I fancy I saw you
here or there<br />
And I forget you
are elsewhere or nowhere<br />
And then when it
dawns yet again</span></i><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 7.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span><i><span style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">It is another stab for the millionth time<br />
Knowing that the
past will never come back…<br />
It is so hard to
believe that<br />
That which was is
no longer is …<br />
Sometimes I can
accept, and sometimes it hurts<br />
in some place that
cannot be seen, heard or touched<br />
<br />
Sometimes I want to
call out your name Loud, loudly…<br />
Sometimes I want to
hear you call out my name Loud, louder<br />
And I want to answer<br />
And then I realize
with a shudder<br />
I’m forgetting how
your voice sounded<br />
I keep looking for
remnants of your voice, of your touch<br />
And I drown in an
abyss of despair and desolation<br />
Of helplessness, of
hopelessness<br />
And yet, there is
an absurd sense of relief<br />
A weird reassurance<br />
That you still
exist- in my memories<br />
Because I’m
terrified of letting myself forget you<br />
Because if I forget
you then that will be the true end<br />
And that I can’t
bear<br />
When you flash in
my memory<br />
It means you still
are, and that you remain<br />
I want to talk
about you without my eyes welling up<br />
I want to smile
when I think about you<br />
And for me to go on<br />
I need to know that
you are watching, listening,smiling too<br />
I want to let the
waves of your memories wash over me<br />
I want to drown in
them<br />
I keep reliving
those moments,<br />
keep retelling
those stories<br />
In a frenzy to keep
you here<br />
<br />
Of how you chided me<br />
How you teased me<br />
How you annoyed me,<br />
How your eyes
crinkled when you smiled,<br />
How you waggled
your finger in mock anger<br />
How you laughed,
how you rolled your eyes<br />
You said this, you
did that…<br />
The calendar is now
marked forever<br />
As before you left,
and after<br />
You just picked up
and left<br />
No goodbyes, no
farewells<br />
The onus on us left
behind<br />
To trudge through
the quicksand of life<br />
I always knew you’d
leave<br />
But when you did<br />
I realized I was
hoping you’d stay…<br />
<br />
Hey ! Are you
there? Are you listening?<br />
I want to tell you
something<br />
I am angry, very
angry- but<br />
Did I tell you how
much I have loved you<br />
Did you know how
much you meant to me?<br />
Wait, I cannot let
you go yet<br />
I refuse to think
you are not here<br />
You are still here
amidst us<br />
In our words, in
our thoughts<br />
Now and forever…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://quotidianthings.com/2018/04/11/napowrimo18-day-11/" ping="/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=https://quotidianthings.com/2018/04/11/napowrimo18-day-11/&ved=0ahUKEwjO5frgitXaAhXJgI8KHT7uCD8QFghXMAs" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer;">#NaPoWriMo18</a></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18.6667px;"></span></span></div>
Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-12567800879159800232018-04-24T15:25:00.001+05:302018-04-25T15:25:32.712+05:30NaPoWriMo 2018 ( Prompt 1- Early Bird) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<img alt="NaPoWriMo" src="http://www.napowrimo.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/logo-napowrimo.png" height="30" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.napowrimo.net/" target="_blank">NaPoWriMo 2018</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 115%;">I am very late to the party. But no worries. Let me start from
Day 1prompt <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 115%;">Day 1 Prompt <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to write a poem in the form of a love letter .
. . to an object. Ideally, the poem will be a kind of riddle, where it’s not
totally obvious that the addressee is your beloved childhood pogo stick, or a
dish of pad thai from your favorite restaurant, until near the end.</span><span style="background: white; color: black; line-height: 115%;"> </span> A great
opportunity to play with some of the clichés and tropes of love poetry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">You were a gift</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">A very
thoughtful one</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">You looked
very strange</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">And yet
I liked you</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">From
the very beginning</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">You
sang the sweetest songs</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">Your
voice like the tinkle of bells.</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">I
held you in my arms<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">day in
and out</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Never wanting to let go<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">You
were mine and only mine </span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">And
then one day</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">It happened<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Everything changed <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">We had
a fall out </span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">I lashed
out </span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">In mad,
blind fury<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">You
were shattered<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">You
whimpered<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">In feeble,
garbled tones </span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">And
then you went silent</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="background: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt;">Silent
forever</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I’ve often wondered <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">What became of you<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f8/Music_box_with_detachable_handle_-_2.jpg/220px-Music_box_with_detachable_handle_-_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="165" data-original-width="220" height="150" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f8/Music_box_with_detachable_handle_-_2.jpg/220px-Music_box_with_detachable_handle_-_2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Music Box : p.c: Internet)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I still remember the songs <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">That you sung<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Your tinkling sound<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Continues to Haunt my dreams <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://quotidianthings.com/2018/04/11/napowrimo18-day-11/" ping="/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=https://quotidianthings.com/2018/04/11/napowrimo18-day-11/&ved=0ahUKEwjO5frgitXaAhXJgI8KHT7uCD8QFghXMAs" style="color: #660099; cursor: pointer;">#NaPoWriMo18</a></h3>
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Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-87928831418954914122016-03-09T22:57:00.000+05:302016-05-20T10:07:33.627+05:30Are you there???<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Today again there was that fraction of a moment when somebody’s
expression suddenly gave me the illusion
that I was actually talking to you. It is such a fleeting moment but in that
fraction of a second , I believe you are right here – in front of me, for that
fleeting moment, I experience a sense of revelry that you are still here among
us. And the next moment yet again that sinking feeling emerges reminding me of
the painful truth that you are not here any more. One wishes to prolong that
sense of suspended belief , that delusion but it is not to be. There is a pang
in the depths of the heart, an overwhelming sense of loss, a feeling of
desolation, hopelessness, and futility. And yet there is a weird feeling of
reassurance , a sense of absurd relief that you are still alive in our
memories. Because I’m terrified of letting myself forget you. Because if I
forget you then that will be the true end and that I can’t bear. When you flash
in my memory, then it means that you still are, that you shall remain. And for
me to go on, I need to believe that . I need to believe that you are watching,
that you understand …<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>I like thinking about you, remembering your expressions, your chuckles, your laughter. I love talking about you... without my eyes welling up. I like to smile when I think about you, talk about you... I like to think you are watching, listening, smiling too... may be, just may be that I would have liked to see you again, talk to you again, listen to you some more, tell you a few more special things... </i></span><br />
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Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9514292.post-57196392259387864322016-02-09T19:41:00.000+05:302016-02-12T22:23:12.267+05:30Way Beyond...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.456px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
You want to chain me in words. Cage me in boxes. You want to define me. You want to claim you understand me, you have got me all figured out. You want to cross check, you want to prove, you want to analyse ,you want to dissect, you want me to fulfil criteria charted out by you- you want me to adhere to facts generated by you, to observe rules drawn out by you, to abide by regulations fabricated by you!</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 15.456px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
You want me to have me tallied- you want to quantify me- you want to hav<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">e me accounted for!</span></div>
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You want to tether me in words, in tabular columns, in bar graphs…you are excited when you think human intellect covers me up totally- and that I cannot exist beyond that!! You pat yourself thinking you’ve got me all figured out!</div>
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But sorry- I don’t fit in- I cannot be caged or chained in words or definitions, in facts or figures, you can’t map me , you can’t chart me out- I extend beyond your x-y axes…</div>
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I stray into un-chartered territories- un-traversed by human intellect- I stretch across borders and definitions- I am invisible, I am intangible- how can you hope to catch me with your finite intellect when you can’t even see me fully?</div>
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I escape like sand in your clenched fists- I am in the air you breathe- and the air without - I’m in the void- I am in the spaces. I exist in thoughts that cannot be expressed, in feelings that cannot be understood- I am in your sighs, even in your yawns. The alphabets shall never suffice to encompass me, language shall always be found wanting.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I’m grainier than the sand grains on the seashore- saltier than all the salt in the sea. I'm colder than the ice flakes in the arctic, deeper than the tears in your eyes. I’m in the roots that meander their way under the earth, in the leaves that sprouted and then wither and fall; I'm in the buds that are yet to blossom.</div>
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I’m the colours beyond the vibgyor, the sounds beyond hearing. I’m brighter than the sparkle in a child’s eye. I go beyond learning, beyond understanding, beyond experiences- then why this craving to have me all figured out- hold me in your clasp- chain me in fetters of grammar and format?<br />You see, I existed before all that…</div>
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Why is it so difficult to accept that there could be things beyond language, beyond borders, beyond limits, beyond concepts, beyond definitions? Is it really so difficult to comprehend?</div>
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I am so much, so much more - beyond your reach… beyond your view… beyond the distant horizon…</div>
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Ardrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10005169454353807178noreply@blogger.com3