In Vacant or in Pensive Mood

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 through the hillock's narrow untarred roads (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 portion of the hill above the house, 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 outs...

My professor would often say, "Saying 'I love you' is easy, but staying in love requires hard work." He would also say, "Don't fall in love. Try to rise in love." I've heard these words more than once during my years of study at MCCSWD (the Social Work department at MCC), and the truth in them continues to reverberate in my heart ever so loudly even today. I have a special attachment to these words, perhaps because it is in the very place where these words were spoken that I also met the person I chose to fall, rise and stay in love with. " Rising in Love", shot by Deepu Da Yes, we've fallen. And oh yes, we've risen! And we continue to stay in love today, as promised to each other in our wedding vows. There are times when loving each other is easy, but there are also times when it is hard work. There are times when I've smiled and thought to myself, "Yes - This is why I fell in love with him", and also times when I...

On Sunday, I heard the "tweet" of a bird. If it had come from the direction of either of our balconies, I would not have been surprised. But this "tweet" piqued my interest because it was coming from the direction of our front door. Beyond the front door and the gate, all we had was a corridor that led to the three other apartments in our floor, the lift and the stairway. How could there be a bird out there? The first time I heard the "tweet",  I was having lunch. I told my husband it was odd to hear a bird call from that direction. Later, as I went about my day, I thought about the "tweet" again and wondered if one of our neighbours had brought home a pet bird. A few hours later--when I heard the "tweet" yet again--my mind wandered back to my childhood, to the time I had my first bird pet... Mittoo was a mynah - her feathers a mix of grey and brown, her beak and feet yellow. She had been a helpless baby bird when I first found her star...

In the second year of college - about ten years ago - I got my first digital camera, a shiny ash-coloured Sony Cybershot. It was a requirement for our Journalism class, especially since we had to run the WCC college newspaper that year. My only experience of handling a camera before this was during my Class X and Class XII outstation excursions, for which I borrowed my Chachidaddy's (maternal aunt's husband) Panasonic film camera. Sure, there was a VGA camera in my first ever Nokia phone, the one I got when I joined college in 2008. But I seldom used it; my phone hardly did have any memory space left as I always kept the 1 GB (yes, just 1 GB!) memory card full with songs. For the generation that has only seen "smart" phones, VGA is about 0.3 megapixels by the way! So, naturally, when I got my very own camera, I was quite excited. I took it to college every single day for the next two years, whether or not it was required of me to report anything that was happening the...