In Vacant or in Pensive Mood

Three-year-old* me had a bed-wetting issue. She prayed specifically about it, almost every night before going to bed. The nights she prayed before going to sleep, she would wake up to a dry bed in the morning. She didn't think, even for a minute, that her nightly accidents may have stopped due to any other changes in her routine. Her mother made her go to the washroom every night before bed, but the difference between a wet bed and a dry bed in the morning depended on whether or not she remembered to pray. That's what she believed, anyway! Five-year-old* me would have nightmares of thieves breaking into her house and cutting off her arm when she attempted to fight them off and protect her parents. She prayed about it and the nightmares disappeared. If she forgot to pray, they sometimes returned. Without a question, she prayed again. Until the nightmares stopped, until she became a dreamer of good, beautiful and awe-inspiring dreams. Six-year-old* me wanted sunglasses; large one

In mid-January this year, after over three weeks of being sick and weak and undiagnosed (despite multiple doctor visits and tests), my dad was found to be COVID+ve. The chest x-ray revealed that over 70% of his lungs had been affected. The hospital he had been admitted in for the test asked him to leave that same night. They gave a letter asking us to transfer him elsewhere as they didn't cater to COVID patients. By this time, the night curfew had begun and it was difficult commuting anywhere, let alone with a patient who had COVID! But we needed to find another hospital to admit my dad in; he needed medical attention at the earliest. My uncle suggested taking him to a govt hospital where COVID patients were accepted. But my dad didn't want to go there. He had his own set of reasons and apprehensions, I don't blame him for them. But as the midnight search for a private hospital accepting COVID patients began, I started to worry internally. One worry, obviously, was for my f

April 2022 The heart is burdened, the mind - boggled. The eyes and ears can't believe the horror that they are made to see and hear.  The body is tense, ready to defend itself against a sudden, suffocating attack. The spirit is weak. The lips can only muster a silent prayer, for people both known and unknown. The chest heaves with every sigh. The tears fall. The entire being feels drained; sucked of strength and happiness. And yet, against all odds, it waits...for a ray of light, for a day of redemption, for that message of revival. For hope, for humanity. -------------- May 2021 I know, a lot has changed since the pandemic and everything around us seems to be falling apart. We've lost loved ones and, along with them, a piece of our own heart. Yes, I know, it's impossible to imagine that life will ever be the same again - it won't. But, yesterday... After a long dry spell, it rained again. The insect-infested plant in our  garden recovered and bloomed again. The birds t

Early mornings for me have always been about last-minute studying during exams, finishing assignments or catching flights - always about something to do, often to be done in a hurry. Even when my daily commute to college or work took 2+ hours, I wouldn't wake up until the last possible minute. Even after waking up, on most mornings, my dad would find me dozing off in front of the cupboard midway through finding something to wear. Well, you get the drift! During the 2021 lockdown, for the first time ever, I woke up early with no urgent agenda. No, it wasn't part of a resolution of any kind. I don't remember the reason now, but exactly on the 1st of June, I happened to wake up at 4:45 am. I got out of bed, not wanting to wake my husband, tiptoed out of the room and shut the door carefully behind me. Once outside the bedroom and away from the whirring of the ceiling fan, I felt the still calm of the morning wash over me. My heart wasn't beating fast out of the anxiety of a

As an introvert, I've lost count of the number of times I felt misunderstood. People have assumed that I'm stuck up, timid, antisocial, boring or even plain sad. Yes, I was a quiet student in class, I did prefer sitting by the window and enjoying the view outside to dancing in the middle of the bus during class trips, I still do opt out of large "group" activities. What does this make me? It makes me a good listener, a person who values soulful experiences, someone who chooses heart-to-heart conversations and close-knitted friendships. And, in my own unique ways, I believe I've made a difference where it matters to me. Over the years, I've also learned to grow and adapt to demanding situations. I've learned to fight for my little space in a world full of extroverts. But I do wish my journey had been easier; I wish I hadn't been made to feel like there was something wrong with me. Even among people who claim to know me well (because they know me for yea

An overnight train journey from Chennai to Chengannur and a couple of long bus rides later, we would arrive at the bottom of the hillock on which my paternal grandparents lived. Even as a little child, I would know when we were close, thanks to the unmistakable scent emanating from the coconut oil factory in the vicinity. This, followed by a short, bumpy autorickshaw ride up the hillock (during which I'd imagine falling off the vehicle into the valley below), we would reach our destination. For another week or so, my parents and I would stay here, in a quiet house made with large stone bricks and unpolished walls. I'd wake up quite late in the mornings and watch from my window as my strong grandfather descended down the hill, wearing a shirt covered in rubber stains, a lungi and Hawaii chappals (flip flops) - a bucket of pasty, white liquid in his hand. I would wave at him and then run out to brush my teeth outside by the washing stone - a place from where I could watch Appacha