Wishing Whispers.....

Here I bare my heart… unburdening it all... a heart bursting with love for you. The love that went unobserved even though our eyes had locked over and over… The love you didn’t spot trembling in my lips, eager to come out. But then, how will you ever know? I had never voiced anything. I wanted nothing more than to saunter through the same path you had trodden years ago before me. I knew that I was blindly tagging along your footsteps. I craved to turn into your shadow. All the time, I remained behind the curtains…unobtrusively... I used to steal glances at you from my numerous hidden corners. Every time I looked at you, a veil was always ready in my hands to cover my face and heart.

I had always thought about the women in your life. I used to observe them closely, wondering what is it that made you choose them over me… I used to wonder if I will ever get a corner in your heart.

Summers passed quietly.. followed by winters. Flowers blossomed. We both changed, and went in our own ways. Still, my heartbeat synchronized with yours. Thoughts of you were always prominent in my mind. The leaves of memory always made noises. My pen flowed for you. Muses bestowed me with words.

How could I not love you? It had come to me unawares in my childhood, grew with me through adolescence, and ripened with age. One day, when you hear the soft rustle of leaves behind you, when you feel a silent footstep following you, you might look back… But I won’t be there. I will be waiting, hiding behind the trees, waiting for you to pass so that I can follow you.

Sometimes, love is like this, my dear. Unheard, unseen, it just follows you without entering your heart. It follows you, through life, through death, in the next birth, in a never ending wait…….

Blocking Whispers........

I get these blocks sometimes. From time to time it is writer’s block. Now and then it is speaker’s block. At times it is thinker’s block. Occasionally it is reader’s block.

Often I am stumped with something I wish to write. It is not that words don’t come to me. It is not that the muse never drops in on me. She does. The words too.. They come uninviting, looking coyly at me, footing themself at an arm’s reach… I can see them. But powerless to feel and fondle. They are a bit timid to come near me. Like the cup of coffee that is still to reach the lips… Like the book that is yet to finish… Like an unfinished conversation... Like an incomplete mating…. The pangs of labor becomes agonising. But…

There are times when words fail to come to my mind. I stumble for the exact word I want to utter. I think and think till fumes come out of my ears. I am inept to express myself. My mind isn’t blank, just too dense with thoughts that need untangling. If I ponder hard for the exact word I want to say, the person with whom I am talking to wont be able to resist and will jump in. If I don’t think and use the first word that comes at that instant, it often ends up in a humourous situation. I just ramble and babble. These days if I take my pen, I am able to write clear, concise, precise razor-sharp sentences. And the sentences come to me with lightning speed, which reminds me how my brain can fire.

Then there are those occasions when I falter for something to think. Ideas just elude me. My mind will be blank. Or too many thoughts at the same time, but none that I can recollect. I think of a million things at the same time, and yet think about nothing at all. The flashes of ideas that comes to me for a millisecond vanishes with supersonic speed. Then my mind re-writes. The original becomes ordinary. The wit gets tarnished. My mind wonders aimlessly. I wonder what I wondered! I wonder why I wonder thus!

Now and then, I get sick of the printed world, and go on strike. I can’t get into any books, can’t concentrate on the contents. I had suffered the same thing during my post graduation, so many books I HAD to read, that I didn’t want to read any of them at all. I had the courage to appear for Viva Voce reading just ‘Wuthering Heights’. Forced reading books are as bad as forced feeding food. One has to let the appetite arise naturally. I used to go into reading overdose that I wouldn't have stopped if I didn't have to. Late at night, all I want to do is surf on the net or chat with friends. And that block is one I am sure I will never get- Internet block.

Of late, a new block is also on the roads- Blogger’s block. I refuse to visit my blog, and when the people dear to me ticks me off for not writing anything, I try to make them see that I am going through the Blogger’s block period. Like a woman undergoes her menopause.

Thank God there is nothing like an electrician’s block, technician’s block, plumber’s block, a supermarket block, restaurant block… But there can surely be a kitchen block, cleaning block, wife's block......................................................

Dreaming Whispers....

I am in love… deep and hard... with the mountains…

The Himalayas beckons me. Himalayas - Where the earth meets the sky! It has become a passion for me. Ever since I have read a few books on it, I always dream of going deeper in the Himalayas… I feel the mountain hides many secrets. I want to walk through the untrodden trails, filling my lungs with crisp fresh air, and listen to the music of the snow. I want to lie down in their folds, explore its deeper and higher reaches, and wander all through the mystifying valleys and peaks… I like the idea of shivering to keep myself warm. I am hooked. It summons me to rest in its lap. I feel the Himalayas everyday. I dream of setting my foot on the King of the mountains, and then go to Kailas, and come back. I dream of residing in a place where I can go there whenever I want to.

I gave a suggestion to my family- to take an apartment somewhere in the Himalayan valley. They, in turn, gave me another suggestion. They will settle in Delhi, and I can visit them whenever I feel like!!! All three were in unison shouting at me not to involve them in my madness.

Another place where I want to spend a day is Kudajadri. But here, only one day… Not a lifetime like in The Himalayas. While Himalayas is more spiritual, Kudajadri is, to me, romantic. The beautiful surroundings, the pouring rain, lush green forests, windswept hills, the enchanting Sowparnika…

To go to both these places, I need a strong hand with me… The hand that leads me to knowledge… the hand that teaches me about life… the hand that shows me how to love… the hand that catches me when I stumble…

I know that the mountains are not what they seem from a distance. They seem to me impossibly far away… still I know it can be approached. So far I have seen it only as a painting… the master stroke of the creator.

There is a saying, "when you fall in love with mountains, they keep calling you again and again". How true! My heart is filled with the call of the mountains… I am dying to reach my destination… A destination which will always be my passion, my pain and my pleasure...!!!

Celling Whispers....

I have a confession to make. I carry a murder weapon on my person every day and night, and I go to bed with it next to me within easy reach. I rely on it for my work, my leisure and my pleasure. And I won’t part with it under any circumstances. I think I am going to become a Nomo phobic… Yes… I can’t imagine a situation when I don’t have my mobile with me!!!

Curiously I don't actually make that many mobile phone calls; it is the comfort of having the phone that I like. I get suffocated in a place where I don’t get my mobile range. I would be wondering who might be trying to reach me or message me, even though only a very few dear ones call me on my cell. The very sight of it brings me the memories of my loved ones. The mere contact with it fills me with the warmth of their touch. If handsets were alive, mine would have many stories to tell… The eagerly awaited calls, the kisses exchanged, the naughty loving messages, the love given and taken, the silent embraces, eased tears…

Living without the cell phone is like living in an isolated desert. All the communication with the outer world lies inside that small thing. The only numbers which I know by-heart is my mom’s and hubby’s. My cell is my walkman… it is my camera… it is my alarm clock… it is my personal reminder… it is my album. In fact, it is my life... It is what connects me to my dreams. The old adage, Books are a man’s best friend should be changed to cell phones are now a man’s best friend. It is a need, it is a want, it is something that you never forget to take with you where ever you go.

Again I say, I don’t use cell phone much… But only now, once more, to message someone that I am posting a new one in my blog………….

Loving Whispers.........

I am back from my retreat now… Back from my home. Back to the dry-looking vast desert (as vast as my dreams!)… back to my once mind-numbing chores... back to the daily routine. Coming back after an escape in India is a very big deal for me. I am one of those many who can never look forward to coming back after holidays. It is not that I don’t enjoy spending my private life with my husband and kids. I do. A lot. It is just that when it is over, I am not yet ready to get back to the humdrums.

This time, I am back from the holidays feeling I need a holiday. Usually I am fully recharged by the time I am back. But this time, life has been too hectic. Mind was never still.

The holidays have been a mixture of gains and losses… of do’s and dares. I did something which I had not dared to do for around 25 years of my life. I dared to open the Pandora’s Box which had been tightly sealed for more than two score years of my life. Out jumped greedily the emotions and feelings which would’ve surely made even the most patient one hit the roof. I had controlled my emotions for too long that suddenly, when a small fissure cropped up, they sprang and jumped out too quickly.

I had kind of led a reclusive life… kind of aloof, in my own world of unresolved thoughts and memories. I had had a kind of melancholic disposition, with people around who cared for me, and whom I cared for. But then there was none to be called as a soul mate. There was no thinking alike kind of relationship… just a very functional, mutually beneficial kind of sharing. I used to languish in my own world, stuck to the past. But now everything has changed. I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. To give me another chance. Well, heard… rather than saw. Was too eager to see that light, to feel it, and to cuddle in its warmth. But that remains a dream. The tomorrow never came… Still the light lingered. And lightened even the darkest corner of my life. The black became white. It erased the depressing shadows surrounding me. Tears (though unshed) became smiles. I got away from all the negativity. The light was no more hidden by any screen. The curtain was parted to let in love. Nothing was any more behind the veils.

Now I am out from behind the curtains. I think about the way things might have been if I had come out much earlier. But no regrets. At least now than never. I never believed I would get this far. I can handle it. I am in control of my life now. I’ve been shaken out of my ignorance. The time has come for me to choose. I have been pushed back from the edge of self destruction. The one who has been showing light has extended his strong arms…. And has taken my hands, and set my feet upon the long path of self discovery.

Bleeding Whispers...

No one to walk along with her,

And soothe the fears that plague her…

How can you remove the tag of love from a relationship? Is it possible to stop loving a person to whom you have surrendered your heart? After knowing the joy of love, can you bear the heartache of knowing that you were nothing for the other person? That the other person had never loved you? You meet someone, love him more than anyone else, you have intimate relation with him, and then one fine day you come to know that you didn’t have any place in his heart..

Why do you still decide to stay with someone who doesn’t love you back?

As the clock ticks.. as the sun fades.. you think of a trillion ways to forget that someone… but the more you try, the more his image replays its sound and laughter.. Every day, every minute, every second, his shadows cloak around you… It was you who had chosen him. So you will hang in there till your last breath, hoping that things will get better. You know that he is everything to you, the unrequited dream, the song that no one sings, the unattainable….


Being in love with somebody who doesn’t love you is a heart breaking experience. Accepting the fact that he doesn’t feel the same way about you can shatter you. You know that he likes you. He cares for you… but not love.

Love always has been and always will be a mystery. Be glad that it came to live for a moment in your life.

Cluttering Whispers

I landed at Nedumbassery airport in Great Expectations! I was hoping for my virile rain to be there with stretched arms to embrace me in his strong clasp. All through the drive back home, I was eagerly looking out for his arrival. But then there was no sign that he was going to come and visit me that day. Maybe tomorrow, I consoled myself. Maybe tomorrow, when I go to visit my Vadakkunnathan, he will take me with him. But then.. a woman’s life is always underlined in red ink. Woman proposes, HE disposes.

As I had nothing to do, I was just rummaging through my old things… One of the things about coming back home is that it takes you in close proximity to childhood memories and mementoes. As I was delving deeper and deeper in my cupboard, I dug up several things from my high school and college days. Gripped by a nostalgic kick, I went through them.

For someone who was thought of to be a quiet and lazy bookworm, I realised that I did a lot of writing as I leafed through my old diaries and files of papers. Of course there were craps too. Lots and lots of it. Bad poetry, poor jokes, a thickly veiled autobiographical attempt, copied quotes from books… There was an exam paper where I had attempted just one essay, and got out from the examination hall. There was my composition book, where we were supposed to write small essays on given topics. One incident that still lingers in my mind from high school times was a short essay where the students were asked to write about their favourite hero and their favourite movie. Out of 98, more than 90 (nothing to reduce) were busy with their hero Gandhi and the movie Gandhi. (There was one or two with Nehru (a hero!!!!) and Ashoka. There was not even one Subhash Chandra Bose.. neither was there any Napoleon or Hitler) I still cannot comprehend how everyone of those 13 year olds like Gandhi so much, and how they didn’t have any other favourite movie. I had also seen Gandhi, but hadn’t understood a single dialogue which was too heavily accented for me at that time. How come I was the only different one? Was I weird? Was I dumb? I had written about my Hero, Amitabh Bachchan, who was then seriously injured during a shoot. (I still remember my sentence which I had written in quotes, “Oh God! Please save our Amitabh!”) I had written about a funny movie I had seen the previous day, ‘Poochakkoru Mookkuthy’ which I had enjoyed tremendously. I had penned it pretty well. But the teacher (a nun) rolled out her eyes, and read it aloud in the class, and I was laughed out. But it was never a problem for me. I liked it, I enjoyed it. And I knew it was good.

I looked carefully at each and every item I fished out. I had these things with me from a sense of nostalgia or a sense of connection. There was an old photo album with those almost-forgotten photos. There was a tightly folded paper, which when unfolded blossomed into a beautiful picture sketched by me. There were some saved letters from my dad and friends, which revealed some interesting snippets of life, some Christmas cards, an old broken walkman, some peacock feathers waiting to see the sunlight, chocolate wraps, dried flowers, ear-rings, bangles, comics, an old purse which still has some coins… I used to give some coins to my mom and ask her to exchange it for notes. I knew where she kept the coins. The next day, I used to take the same coins and again exchange it. I could double my money in 24 hours with no effort.

I couldn’t believe some of the stuffs I was allowed to get away with! Even though I have shut the doors of yesterday tightly closed, the windows were partly opened. It was like hunting your past… rummaging through your mind…! I dragged out the entire contents (minus the sorrows and regrets), folded, piled and replaced every item so that the windows should be fastened tightly.