stabbed…it was not a dagger, not a sword, not a sharp knife but a sharp little needle. I named that needle as memory and attached it to my chest.  When I close my eyes, when the memories flood and the past burns the brain, the needle takes its toll.  It enters through the chest slowly and touches the heart.  It was not painful when the needle touched the wall of the beating heart.  It slowly breached the hearts’ wall and entered in slowly causing the whole body to shiver and the heart to twitch like an organ cut off from the body. Every twitch the image flashed before me and the pain killed me like the acid entering my blood vessels.  What wrong did I do other than believing in unconditional love! When I was pouring all the best things I have I thought I was pouring into the pond of elixir but the time has proved me that I was pouring into abyss.

Foolishly, I believed that the world works by the laws of love but then the love showed me that the world revolves around money.  There are thousand ways to teach me the reality but life has chosen love to teach me the brutality of this world.  I waved my future with the string of compassion, tied my dreams with the flowers of trust but when the string started cutting my hand and the flowers poisoned my blood, I realized even the courtesy needs to be bought with money in this world.  In the distant land I saw a pool of water when I was dying in thirst; I was running for a long time without noticing the blood oozing out from my legs that has forgot the thorns and stones in the path. One point of time I was tired loosing all the blood, I turned to see the path I was running; it was all blood stained.  I still tried hard to run in the trust that I will get to drink the distant water but only when the sun started to set I realized I was running only towards a mirage.

I felt ashamed of running like an insane towards something that doesn’t even exist, a fake form of happiness.  Do I have to blame the mirage that made me shed blood! No, it was my fault not to realize the reality in the half way, my fault to fall in love with the fake water.  It was not just the legs that was bleeding but my entire body.  I could feel the pain in every cell of my body, my sun scorched skin turned red as blood was oozing out of every pore of the skin.  As the sun rested and the moon rise it started raining.  Dear God, you have thought the rain could wash away all the blood stain in the path or from by body!  Every drop of rain burned my bleeding skin like an acid drops from the sky.

With the bleeding in the soul and needle stuck heart it feels like the moment I pluck the needle out I will die.

Lullaby for my love


Stop the waves, dear sea, my love is sleeping,

No match to my love, in distress, the moon is weeping.

Sing the lullaby, mother night, and kiss her good night,

Dare to come out night owls for I am her knight.

Slow down the time, dear universe, let her sleep deep,

I would become the windows of her room to stop the stars’ peep.

Nurture and comfort her with softness, dear pillow, but

Don’t take pride; only for a short time you are in my place, poor fellow.

Don’t be so cool, dearest winter, she cannot withstand chillness,

I can burn the world to warm her up; of course that is my madness.

Don’t be silent, dear silence; she doesn’t likes the world to be silent,

Even when I die I will be her guardian angel and stay vigilant.

Like the softest of soft flowers tired and sleepy when it is dark,

My love has dozed off; still she glows like the fireworks spark.

Where are you Gene? Change me into that blanket and mattress,

I could keep her warm and safe for she is my goddess.

Dear Sun, wait for her to wake up for she is the light of my world,

Don’t compete with her brightness for you are no match even for her mold.

Dear dew drops, don’t worry for disappearing with her brightness,

She will make you fall in love with her for she is an enchantress.

My Room…

October 2:

…and here I am sitting looking at the wall opposite to me.  It was a plain blue painted wall with a light nailed to it. And kissing the wall was my bed with a pink bed spread. Over the bed I have my two pillows sleeping keeping the company of my never ringing phones, my movable work workstation – laptop – in open condition. And a book that I am currently reading – me before you; okay, the title makes me to think in many different dimension.  And there lies a blanket in chaos just the same way I lie down.  Between the pillows I keep a water bottle which is black.  Though I forget where I keep it when I want water in the middle of nights, it stays still between the pillows.  I have pasted artificial stars on the roof which was removed when we painted last time.  I think of painting the sky just the same way, but then that is what our energy source – sun – does daily isn’t it!

I sleep with my head towards the west so that when somebody opens the door in the morning I could see the sun light.  Just above the door to enter my room – you could see beautifully made wooden almirah, sometimes I admire it for the wooden frame it holds, just like floating in the air.  Oh! Wait I am getting call. Wow!  I answered and it’s Pavithra.  Don’t ask me who it is! Even I don’t know; some tellecaller who want to trap me into bank loan at a fascinating interest rate. I told her a sorry and thank to cut the call.  It is always girls who call for bank loans or charity or any kind of stuff that people want to sell, I don’t know why!  Hey wait, I am getting another call, second call since yesterday morning, (if you are going to ask me who is one who called you yesterday morning, it is Anbarasi, chill down it is another  tellecaller from a charity organisation) it was again Pavithra, I told her that she has called me just a minute ago! “Oh! Really, are you now interested in loan, sir” she asked.  I don’t know how she could think that I could have changed my mind in a minute.  Anyways, I keep my voice low to those people not just because it is girls who call but also out of little humanity or may be I don’t know how to react, frankly. I said a sorry and also a ‘thank you’ (of course for reminding me that my phone is still working).

I was sitting on the chair next to my bed with my legs over the bed.  My mom entered with a glass of juice and to say the same dialogue “get out of the room and get some air” and I give her the same reply “I do that daily, five days a week sometimes six days.”  She walked away because she knows I am pretty pile of crap that does not obey.  Most of the time when I am left alone in home all I do is to read, then write and watch the same old movie that I have already seen thousand times. I keep my room little dull lit but during day time, even with the curtain over the window, the room looks brighter and all that I have in my room look duller including me.  And there is this stabilizer for the air conditioner, which I never cared to turn off, keeps showing me some random numbers, every half a second, below 255.  It is funny that I sit and predict the next numbers what might come next.  Height of craziness!

Did I forget to mention the pile of books that sleeps on the chair next to the bed! It is all that I have read but doesn’t want to put it back to rack.  I guess within years I am going to sleep over the books spread over my bed.  Anyways! Not very interesting day to hang at home and it is a holiday.  The only thing I could say thanks to Gandhi is for the holiday on his birthday.

The Library…


I didn’t know what drove me here, but the place was quite mine; the place where I always dreamed to be.  Very less but welcoming people of my genre, people who stay silent as the place demands and people who talk to the books, authors and to themselves.  There is no difference of opinion for there is opinion in difference.  I saw people writing; a quite place away from noises of the phone, traffic and life.  I could see beautiful faces that reads, feels and emerges out of the emotion from the book. There were tons of books and very less people turned up to read.  The place was clean and tidy as I surfed through the Asia’s one of the largest library of eight floors there were thousands of books in all the genres. I want to pick as many as possible and read all at once which is highly impossible also I was afraid if I took few books to surf through and what if I could not find the right place to shelf it back.  So I took one book which was my favourite subject once – The Basic guide to Hypnotism.  I saw a girl reading Sigmund Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams so I have to stay a little away from her.  I choose a chair away from Freud and her and sat comfortably in cushion chair.   The guide to hypnotism hypnotised me to read; almost quarter of the book I finished before I felt asleep without my knowledge for a minute or two; because the place was so harmonious and pleasant and filled with books and air conditioned.  When I recouped from my nap I realized I almost finished quarter of the book and Freud and that girl were still there.  Disbelief I developed on Fraud and his reader after reading Osho’s talk on Fraud.  Sigmund Fraud was called as genius in the field of human psychology but when he came to India he was asked to meet Ramana Maharishi, a man who realized his self.  But Fraud refused to meet him for he is afraid of the man who could break all his disbelief.  And there was a statistic which says the suicide percentage was higher in the psychology doctors compared with others; interesting.  I realized it was time to move on just one floor of books is not enough for me.  I wanted to put the book back into it’s shelve but then I saw a poster saying don’t try to shelve it back but just leave it on the table- cool.  I searched for the literature section and claimed to the next floor to see hell a lot of books on all literature Greek, Pali, French etc., I walked through each of the book in the neatly arranged.  Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, etc., It was pleasure watching their books which most of them I have it shelved in my home.  And then I saw Dante’s Divine Comedy which is an allegorical read termed as tough to understand and then I saw The war that killed Achilles in Greek literature and few more books I collected and searched for a place to sit.  Most of the tables were occupied and those that are free were reserved.  Finally I found a table with an empty chair but again I have asked the girl sitting in the opposite to make sure that it was not reserved for anybody.  She nodded and shook her head taking her head from the book. I didn’t understand what she said but then I sat taking it as the chair is free to occupy. The table was near the glass wall, the lawn below was visible and the day light was amicable.  I surfed through the Dante’s Divine Comedy and after few minutes I want to see what was new in the ‘The war that killed Achilles’ as I already know the good crap old story of Helen in Troy.  The writing was good but the story was the same. And then I found this book lying on the table crap shades for gray; who the hell kept this book in literature section, I threw the book.  The place was dumb quiet and the book made quite a noise of my anger.  A girl who was reading deep into her book lifted her face and saw me as if I have thrown a stone at her.  I said sorry and went back to my book.  Time slipped through without my knowing and I realized I was late, but then I want to see what people were reading so I picked the books what people have left in the table.  I was happy to see Shelley’s poetry, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; people are still alive in the world of literature I thought.  Though it was not enough for my brain and heart, my stomach wanted something to fill just as my heart, also it was late evening so I decided to get out of that lovely place and fuel my body.


Things to count on…

couple in rain
Picture from Flicker/google images

“What are you counting?” she said.  Her legs were on his laps and they were on the roof top. And it was a euphoric evening when it was drizzling.

“The rain drops that was falling from your nose tip” He replied.

“Crazy you…”

“Yes, of course.  You made me so” he said.


Tiny things, small moments, small conversations, little romance are like the tiny drizzles; they make bigger things slowly.


“Let us get down and take a stroll” he asked

“Only if you could lift me and scoop me in your hands…” she said

“Scoop you!! Let us sit here then…” he giggled

She gave a naught kick which he waited for and loved too.  She got her legs off his lap and he helped her getting holding her by waist so that he doesn’t slip away from his hands.


Only when there is purest of love along with all chemical emotions the touch feels like the breeze of the evening and if it is only chemical then it burns like a hot sun.


“You smell like a baby” He said

“Really…” she replied plainly

“I like the smell of your hair… when it is wet and you don’t have time to dry…”

“Okay… enough.  Let us walk…” she said.

“Now it is wet and I feel the fragrance of a real woman in you… a woman as created by the divine hands”

“I don’t understand a word you talk…” she giggled

“I know you understand every word of me… even when I don’t talk… I know you are the only one to understand my silence…” he replied.


Not every time the words could explain the love, sometimes you need to read between the lines and sometimes it is the silence that conveys all the love you hold in your heart.


She looked straight into his eyes as if telling ‘I know you, you need not say everything’. It was drizzling.  He asked for her hands and she held it tightly and they walked.  The road was washed with the rain, it was plain and clean.  It was green the both sides and fresh.  The rain drops continued to wet them and she felt cold.  She wrapped her hands to his torso and he warmed her with his hands over her shoulders.  The walked till the end of the road.


“Let us go back” she said.

“If you say…” he said and they walked back home.


The room was ill lit only with two or three candles around.  She shined like gold in the Sun light.

“You glow…” He said.

She smiled.

He grabbed her by hands and embraced like a petal of a rose touching another.

“I could feel you… in my soul…” he said

“Hmmm mmmm…” she smiled as if telling ‘you are completely a pack of insanity’.

“I know what you are thinking… Yes I am insane… It is your mistake… You have made me so…”

“I didn’t do anything… it is all that you imagine….” She replied.

“May be… let me live and die in the same imagination…” he said.

“What if I become old… if I have wrinkles…” she asked.

“That is better, I can kiss you in the road… people will not pass a bad comment instead appreciate me for the love I have for you… and wrinkles… that should be the beautiful wrinkles the world have every seen.” He replied.

“You selfish fellow… What if you change by time…?” she asked with little melancholy in voice.

“Definitely I will change… more matured, correct all my mistakes and love you more than today… and one day I might totally change that would be my last day on the earth” he said.

She tightened her hug; she replied.

The Magic…

In the arms of each other, when the hand holds together, and the hearts push and pull one another bloom’s the magic of togetherness.  If you think it is just the thirst for fleshes do not touch each other; relationships are food for the souls and not for cannibals. When the skin’s caresses the souls should blend like the water and the soil if there is no love it is like mixing the water and the oil. What you cannot read in the words that come out of mouth can be read from the luminescent that comes from the eyes.  If the spark in the eyes has faded away, though the face and words can fake the love, the language of eyes will always open the eyes of the other.

When the love is pure there needs no filter to purify the heart and need no tears to dilute the hurt.  It just happens for no reason, no matter what season.  When the image of the other enters the eyes and if only matches the search of the soul then the magic is provoked.  When the hands hold and the lips talks to each other the two soul become part of one broken soul and merge like the clouds that was about to pour.

When the eyes meet each other then everything around should disappear and the moment of silence should be as divine like prayer.  In the acoustic of voice only the external is satiated.  In order to satiate the inner being the words should be eschewed and silence should take over the moment.  The pleasantness of the silence must be felt in the heart so that the channel for communication is clear between hearts.  This cannot be faked, though the words fake love the eyes will show up what is underneath.

The Cosmic Touch

Courtesy : Google images

It’s time I get in touch with the cosmic energy; the divine force that runs the world.  It’s the force that keeps the heart to beat without rest and the same force that give rest to the heart and puts the soul into the eternal journey to other dimension of the universe.

In need to escape out of the world of insurmountable world of chaos, I closed my eye in the dark and open it to the unfathomable beauty of nature.  Just like escaping into the third dimension of the world brain sometimes has a black hole in which when entered throws you into the utopia.  I was sucked into the black hole and thrown into a valley of fresh water.  As if you need to be cleaned up before entering into the new world I was washed by the stream of cold water.  I didn’t feel my body.  It is just the soul that was bathed.  The panorama seemed like watching a wall poster with scenery, green everywhere and water from the peak flows like a girl with the long hair.  I was not wearing slippers; it felt like I was floating above the grass.  The thought of eating food and drinking water was far away from the mind.  I was scared of such lonely places for there would be no sounds of human pals, may be the fear of demons striking from the unknown.  But the place was quiet of the human noises and filled with the song of the water falling from the peak, music of the stream running over the mother earth.  There were sounds of the singing birds, voice of the little one’s from the cuckoos nest.  The sun was not hurting as the breeze was filled with the wetness of the waterfall.  The stroll was not painful as the ground underneath was soft as rose with the green grass.

It was a strange feel that I started to think if it was heaven and I was dead.  If the place was heaven then I would be happily dead.  I strolled a great distance with full of euphoria for the birds were not afraid to come by and trees were not afraid that I would make furniture out of it.  There were all original trees as trees and not as paper currencies.  The earth underneath held the ore in it original nature and not as gold, silver and steel.  The silence was meditative but the song of the nature was enchanting.  The only violence I saw was that of a woodpecker building its nest but the trees in which it is drilling seems happy to host its guest; no wonder we call the nature our mother.

A calf came running from nowhere and started playing with me and the mother cow came behind him.  It is really a utopia as the calf gets the entire milk from its mother without being hacked by my fellow mortals.  There is not one thing to buy with money; there is not one thing to sell.  Everything is granted though nothing is taken for granted.  When I bent down to the calf’s face it licked with the pure love and the mother didn’t seem to be jealous.  The master sun was fast setting and the twilight was approaching.  The green silky grass, bright green trees and colorless waterfall turned to orange of the sky and the stream looked bright and orange.  I could not remember the last twilight I saw but this one was really a magic.  I could hear a ring in my ear; no, I have not brought my smart phone (that makes humans stupid).  It was a peculiar bird in blue and violet, a tiny little wonder of nature.  With all its love it caressed my cheek with its head.  By now the calf has become more comfortable with me and started playing the games he used to play with its mother.

The ground was wet and thus I choose the root to settle down and leaned on the trunk of the tree.  In the garden of flowers I could see the bees doing its part of work; drinking honey carrying pollen grains from one plant to the other. Many bees crossed me and not one stung, may be I am not disturbing its nature. Far away, on the top of the peak I saw a large honeycomb which looked like a happy family with no intruders to steel the hard work of the family.  If this is heaven I would be happily dead, the nature at its nature.  I called it a utopia but that was the real world when the almighty has decided to create Homo sapiens, the largest virus that earth has seen in its history of millions of years.

The real nature of everything is love and love to the core. It’s the love with no expectation in return, just to love because there is something to love and no reason beyond it.  I walked back to the river and dipped my face to feel the water, unfortunate I was thrown out of the other side of the black hole to come back to the same place, the real present world.  You see! Where ever you enter or exit you will end up in the same place only the journey between the entry and exit differs.  Happy journey.