Roaring into Dragon Year

 

Or so to speak.

This is the first year I had the most quality time on a new year eve that I could ever asked for. I came back to an empty house tired around 11 ish after work only to find there is no food. and worst, none of my house dwellers answered my call.

After shower and two packets of curried instant noodles (bless those who created these little wraps of joy), I slumped into my couch, feeling a bit lethargic but nevertheless the urge to go out and party the night away, and suddenly like an epiphany, the quietness and stillness of the night swept away. At that moment dawned upon me that I was about to begin my journey into a whole new year alone. the itch to kick start the idiot box was surging but I calmed it down by listening to some good jazz and eventually things that I was blessed to experience last year, buzzed from memory. the people I met, the bonds I made, the fun I had, the pain I got all surged into my sight, each one vivid and crystal clear.

The question of did I deserve those things and will it continue creped up and till one my good friend called me, Hdaran ‘s little chat was enough to pump the dwindling spirit. I geared up for the finale, as the clock kept ticking, in my own little way. chocolate, some berries and nuts, frozen yogurt and steered my self into he new year with gastronomic orgasms of the sinful delight. (ok I'm a dark chocolate fan!)

Called my sir boi, and couldn't get through. then it stroked me , he will be church praying. A smile crept about me, and I waited gingerly for his call, while calling the others whom i keep close to my little heart. Then I got the call i was waiting for and I was floating in sweet heavens. Bless him.

And then it rained. as with any other significant moment in my life, it rained for a good 20 minutes till I was soaked and  tired form yelping and singing in the rain, playing about happily.

And with that I welcomed 2012 into my arms and embraced it.

(=

Happy New Year People.

Sunday dreams

 

Alex

the sound of the loud alarm ringing from one of the room permeates the whole shekar mansion with a notion that the day is about to begin and and get frantic. its Sunday, and that means the whole clan gets up to go to church and and later brunch together as a family. opening an eyelid and muttering foul under his breath, Alex stirs in his four corner post bed and blinks blankly at the ceiling. he scours around drinking in his surroundings. alexander asirvarthan shekar. that’s him. his family name itself is enough to get him comfortably around. he jet sets stylishly with his cousins, laughs while tinkling champagne flutes at parties around town, and changes shades when he spots just another paparazzi trying to get a shot at fame by having a shot of him.

only he knows how much he hates that.

getting up from the bed and dragging his feet to the washroom, he takes a long good look at him self before cleaning up. later after good hot shower, shaved and standing in just boxers in his wardrobe, he runs through his shirt rack for that shirt he bought 2 weeks ago. he hasn’t had the chance to wear it. call him retro but he loves things with quaint details. his room stands testament  for it. with a eclectic but elegant color palette, the shades of hot flushing pink, mysterious black and energetic sea blue paints an enigmatic picture all over his room. his artsy side can only be proudly displayed without snickering and silent laughing at his room, his abode, his retirement, his sanctuary. getting hold of the shirt form the rack , he takes out a matching plain double pleated slacks to go with the shirt, and a dirty gold tie.

dressed and set, he comes down to be greeted by his elder sister who is already munching away on sandwiches prepared by aunty radha. aunty radha is the cook cum nanny who came to the house appointed as his playmate/caretaker. as he grew up, she was later delegated to the kitchen as the second cook. when  the previous one has expired, she remains the sole woman who cooks in this house. with permanent crinkles around the eyes from her ever ready smile, dimples and wiry grey hair, she is the one where Alex is truly comfortable with when he comes home.

“ayya, have a seat, your coffee will be ready in a jiff”. ayya, the very word rings millions of bells in his heart. the word of comfort. the word of care. the word of knowing some is there. he gives her a peck in the cheek “ thanks nana”  and sits down. the way he treats aunty radha never went down well within this household. this apparent as the look on his sisters face is enough to curdle the milk. before she began to say something nasty, her phone rang “ oooo Patrick is calling…….” she rhymes up and snakes away. whose Patrick, Alex wonders. must be yet another guy she is flirting with. sigh, and he gave a distant look at his sister playing with her hair and giggling over the phone, with the occasional glance at him.

 

drafted the first 4 paragraphs. watcha think?

coincidence of consequences. auscultation

as the day approach to a near halt, ceasing activities to a dragging pace, i sit in my porch snugged with a mug of warm coffee enjoying the late evening breeze and enjoying the chirping of the birds on the bird, the scattering of the squirrels, and the calling of the mother hen to her chicks and the occasional cameo of the fruit bat. the sounds of nature, is at the full blast when the the day hits dusk, bursting a plethora of colours in the sky dotted with the swallows zooming through.
this perfect moment of innocence inspired me so much that i felt stimulated emotionally and a surge of uplifting creative energy numbed my veins. immediately i knew what i needed. i need to read. a good original piece of work. something heartfelt. 

i put down my mug, went in and brought my laptop out and after settling in, i directed my browser to my mates blogs and some writers sites and and 2 hours later felt contented, and satiated.
as i put my laptop aside with some classical carnatic music on, i realized that dusk is just passing and the activities i noted earlier is nowhere to be found. no hurried feet disappearing up the tree leaving a trace of bushy tail, no stern call of the feathered brood's matriarch, not even the blind bats faithful visit. life just passed on.
in my excitement, i failed to see what was happening in front of my eyes. to contain my self and take in the wonders that intrigued me. the promise of something more enriching made me left the things i have in hand and jump inot the next wave of emotion and be temporarily highlighted, in the end left to be dry and wanting more.
this is not something new to many of us. more often this happens in a relationship with someone close and dear, be it romantic, casual, blood tie or platonic. we fail to acknowledge, we fail to ascertain, we fail to appreciate.

the nuances of comforting presence is undoubtedly taken for granted by almost every one we know, as the most often complimented complaint would be one has changed, and in the eye of the preacher, the negativity of it almost could be smelled. and the pairing defence of the supposedly changed person hasn't in fact grown a hair.and thus this contradiction would dwell a jarring gap that ultimately would take away the level of closeness between them.
this not only applies to relationships but almost any aspect of being for a self. one attitude, ones passions, ones aspirations, anything.
all because we simply don't listen. take the time to listen to ourselves, correctly. listen to our inner voice, our surroundings. and when things get heated up, slow down and listen again, and think. and then u may catch the beauty of the passing colours in  the parade of the evening. the dusk and enjoy the fruits of ur patience int he most astounding starry night sky, with the bright moon shining alluringly above. listen. simple as that.

an unforgettable turn

in our day to day endeavor, we go through many incidents that make us sit back and realize what the purpose of we reacting to it in such a manner that it affects us the way it does. some of these incidents carry forward to become scars that testify our character and some become our accolades the glorifies our pride. character and pride, things which have become synonymous with the males and the equal opposites of our species. what a guy does is acceptable just because of there is something hanging down south where else if a girl does it, its despicable. the gender discrimination is at its worst when the subject matter in question is a sensibly illogical behavior to anyone with a cent worth of common sense hidden anywhere in them. instead it will be blown up to alarming proportions and adjudicated much to the annoying optimisms of the elders that this will not be the last time this mater will occur.  

I digress. I will only stand and watch this time. guess I learned not to tell them that they are wrong. after all some people just don’t learn, and besides who am I to say when I can even see where my own path Is heading? just finished with my degree, and am nut ecstatic about it as I thought I would. the presentation was brutal. enough said, I am not going to think about it again ever. those who don’t know how to respect the hard work and passion that went into making a piece of work, does not deserve to know about it either, call it ego, pride or any other name one may label it with, but I would not compromise my principles for someone who don’t have one. I walked out, with my integrity and dignity intact, tall and undeterred that I have done my part. its high time HE/SHE did HIS/HERS.

a new chapter has begun, a dragging chapter has ended. I took a turn on the crossroad. wish I know now it self, whether that’s a right turn or a left one.

i have an extra s

arts has been a solace to me lately, with me indulging into proper singing aided with lessons from the internet. it has proven to be much joy as it comes with appreciation and acknowledgement from unexpected places. when i worked as a marketing executive post stpm, i have been told countless times, my voice is very sweet by those who really meant it, and those with other intentions. clients, have to be polite to them, so generally i would gush out a fake excitement and launch into thanking them profusely till the deal is signed. most of the time it worked, and i didn't see it being ethically wrong and i went along with it. until one faithful day, i had to speak to a local dude, who launched midway into other things during our telephony discussion. i was horrified , appalled, disgusted, shamed, scared and what not, as i cant end the call abruptly nor i can ask him why his voice is changing and what are the other extra noises he is making is f are. worst, the conversation is recorded to be reviewed later, by the quality assurance department. nevertheless, that  was the last time i told to my self, no more using sweet voice.

as i resigned to continue my studies, i became back the reserved quiet person i am, resorting to only the occasional shower singing, or the hymns during gatherings where i would always be called upon to sing. i would proudly beam and do my best mesmerize them, always getting compliments on my singing and urgings to take singing lessons as soon as possible. singing eventually become my companion when i needed to let out steam, calm my self or cry away. yes, tears would be rolling out and i would be belting out. being alone most of the times at home helps, as i don't have to worry about being a possible source of noise pollution.

most of the times, i carried a sad tune, until someone came into my life and brighten it up. the world seem so perfect with that person in and i finally understood the meaning to live for others. the person was my light to the my darkness, the breeze to my suffocation, the love to my soul. the strength i derived from the person enable me to move on with life, to live life and to see life. the person was gift from god, my angel. my tune changed, i sang happy melodies, explore different singing styles, incorporating from choir days with my passion for carnatic. the person became my muse, my music,.

but i just had to screw things up.

now, all i have are memories of the person, and missing the person is like drinking water to satisfy an insatiable thirst. my tune is back to being a sad yearning one. tears have dried up. but the love, has only swelled more as each day passes by. i wish the person understands me, that what ever i did, it was not to meant to hurt , but it was the opposite. till when the tune is gonna be sad? till when will i be able to final earn the persons pardon? time will tell, and till then i shall wait..