Mirrors don't lie!

 As a little girl, I was happy with what the mirror told me.  I had no concept of being ugly and even believed myself to be beautiful. I could preen in front of the mirror for hours, playing with my hair, wearing huge dangly earrings. I had long thick hair falling upto my waist, and tendrils fell around my cheeks. - a la- Shobhana. The world was a happy place.

And then I grew up. I no longer liked what the mirror told me. A too narrow face, hollow cheeks, spectacles, a dracula tooth to boot! The hair was all but gone as a result of hostel life.  I did not think I was ugly, but neither was I happy.

Then marriage happened. I woke up a beautiful woman. The mirror was neglected. Kids came. Priorities changed. I was content.

The children were growing. Life was changing. I found time to explore new options- Music, Dance, blogging, new friends, a job, learnt to travel in and around the town on my own ( which I had not ventured to do before), and courted success even on the academic front! I was rediscovering myself at various levels. The mirror was not needed. Compliments  received came as a pleasant surprise. I was happy, confident of the person that I had become.

Six months ahead. A few crises in the family. Pain, sorrow, fear, reminders of the transience of life... People started noticing and commenting on visible changes. I had become thinner, my neck was drawn. Biological changes. It felt like I had aged overnight!  I became more concerned about the health factor. Once again, I sought the mirror. I noticed the pepper and salt streaked hair, the crows feet and dark circles around the eyes, the laugh lines. Photos taken were deleted with vehemence. Confidence hit the lowest ebb .

The family's reassurances were not enough to bolster self esteem. Compliments on FB were but a temporary solace. I had read somewhere that no one looked as bad as in their voter's identity card nor as good as in their FB profile picture. :-)

I had once resolved that when the time came, I would age gracefully. Not as easy as I had imagined. I believed that I was not too concerned about good looks, just about neatness and presentability may be. .. Obviously I had been deluding myself.

Just a matter of time...shall learn to accept the ravages of nature. :-)

Splash!!

Two pebbles thrown into the river:

July 13th

 Celluloid Poetry

July 14th


 Coming Alive

Three shots at once

July 10th


 Straddling two worlds


July 11th


 Experience diluted


July 12th


  Saffron allure

Coy Maiden

 Coy Maiden

Reaching out...

         
 Reaching Out... 
        

Where did all the moments go?

(July 7th)


 Where did all the moments go?

Between Y'day and Today

Between Y'day and Today 

Homecoming

 Homecoming 

Growing up!

 Growing up

Making Amends

 Making amends

Street Performers

Street Performers

July Is here!

The River begins...

The first pebble in the month of July:

  Listening

Stone # 61

 Silent  Music

Not on Talking terms...

We are not on talking terms anymore. We don't even run into each other any where. I've no idea where she is. We are not in touch.
When did she stop talking? Or was it that I stopped listening? Or perhaps she did call, and I did not hear her voice above the din? I hadn't even noticed the silence...until today.
Today, somebody asked me about her. I started to say something and stopped short. I had nothing to say, I did not know what to say. Did I leave her behind or did she race ahead?
Coming to think of it, I did have this vague awareness of being alone, of the silence.
Where do I look for her? Even if we do happen to meet again, would we recognise each other, would we able to resume from where we left off?

I miss you Ardra...

Remembering...

Is it really a year that has passed by? Wasn’t it just the other day? How did we manage to cross this one year? It had felt insurmountable then.

A long drawn year, each day heavier than the last has passed by. Another Ulsavam- Temple festival came by and went.  There was the shamiana in the temple precincts, the stage was decorated, the concerts took place, the crowd was there, and we were in the crowd.  The awareness of a certain absence loomed large in the consciousness, sometimes feeling like a thick, unwieldy slick and sometimes like waking up with a start from a horrible nightmare.

They’ve named the street where her home stands, after her. The silence, the emptiness, reverberated with her absence. Every unspoken word was laden with memories.  Walking through her home, touching the wall, the vessels in her kitchen, the shelves, a forlorn hair clip, one sought her presence in vain.

Picking pebbles

CUT!

Freedom? 

The Blog trail...

I sometimes drop onto other blogger stops and find myself caught in an enchanting web of slices of life.
Today, I first landed  Here , from there, I found myself  here and then stumbled into  This.


(image courtesy :http://writeanything.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/foot-steps-on-rippled-sand.jpg?w=200&h=300)

Writing Exercise.

Ever since I joined the 'River of stones' project, and have been attempting to write crisp , compact 3-4 lines on anything that catches my eyes/ ears, thoughts, I suspect  that I'm no longer able to churn out long winded sentences. This last sentence has to be the longest in a long time. My last post, I had composed like a poem and then I simply deleted the spaces in between and tweaked it a bit here and there to make it prose! I've forgotten how to weave words into prosaic sentences. Every thought now comes abridged , whether it qualifies to be labelled poetry is another matter.

This post is actually an exercise to see if I'm still able to coin sentences.

Scouring for stones...

Had been on vacation to a hamlet in Kerala- South India. Its a beautiful place with greenery, birds, insects, even slithery reptiles- nature in all its splendour. 

I was thinking, that once I came here, there would be stones and rocks all around just waiting to be picked. 

I stepped into the garden, pen and paper in hand,senses on high alert waiting for the elusive stone. Nature was romping about in all its glory, birds twittered, devotional songs wafted down from the neighbouring temple 

and still no stone, not even gravel met my roving eye.

My son came by,  gave me a long, hard look. He stepped out, fished out a nice, round, shiny pebble from the ground, handed it over to me. "Here's your stone for the day", he chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief!

New stones...

at Pebble trove 


Stones  54,
            55,
            56, 
            57,
           58