சிந்திக்க அல்ல, சுவைக்க.
Not to think, but to taste

Saturday, 22 October 2011

Sunday dreams



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?

Tuesday, 28 June 2011

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.

Saturday, 21 May 2011

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.

Wednesday, 4 May 2011

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..

Saturday, 30 April 2011

feeling the void

i for one, is a firm believer of true love. one does deserve some to grow old with no matter how much of a nuisance they can be. since my last morbid affair went down the drain, i haven't had the itch to see anyone else on a different manner, other then being friends. that was , until recently. this was largely due to the fact that, true to the words that old habits are hard to die, so does old flames. till i met nemicanu (of course its a nick name, hello, it weird and hard to pronounce...) and what ever sweet and sour memories i had with the-one-whoose-name-shall-never-be-mentioned-ever-again,  went down the drain either.

meeting you was by chance, but falling for you, thats fate... missing you more the before..

enjoy. i know i am.

Tuesday, 12 April 2011

My birthday wish.

It's not expensive. It's not elaborate. It's not shiny nor it's high technology. But this is the gift that touched my heart. It's a simple card, but with love, with care, with longing.. Thank you sir boi.. Love you more than life... My birthday wish? May our bond be eternal..

Wednesday, 9 March 2011

resonant of a soul : in E major

curiosity kills the cat. 
uncertainty kills the goal
ignorance kills the intellect
silence kills the soul.

its been more then 2 weeks since you kept away from me. i did something terrible and i don't even know what i did. wish you would tell me. hmmm, if this is the price i need to pay for hurting you, i will. but know one thing, you always will be my soul mate. my guide. my philosopher. my eternal bond. and nothing would keep me away from you.
on a different note, i have started my final year  project cum thesis, albeit in a struggling mode. i was sick for quite some time, drained my self out.. sigh, feeling much better now, have to quicken the momentum to keep up the pace. suppose to meet my supervisor last week, but could not make it. will try to meet him this week.

right now, the only thing that is keeping me occupied, is my thesis work and volunteering. the ngo i'm involved with is kind enough to send me for various trainings for me to gain knowledge and exposure in order to serve accordingly and efficiently. i have a camp this coming weekend at my former school where i'll be a facilitator. 

the estranged heart is longing for the familiar voice that healed the wounds and cradled the worries. 

Saturday, 5 March 2011

from me to you

i'm bruised. battered.
but i guess you feel the same.
i drained my self thinking  what i did.
wish u would tell me, as i don't know.
i'm that dumb.
sorry. thats what i can offer.
but if you want anything else, name it.
just don't ignore or hate me.
love you more then life.
before, now and always
miss you sir.
miss you a lot.


Tuesday, 8 February 2011

a trial

i always wanted to write. a story. a fantasy. a dream. it has always been. but lately been feeling a little courageous, and so here is a little excerpt from one of d many imaginations i cook up in my mind.
presenting, i am dancing. the two different struggles faced by two different persona's, on one common ground, dance.

" he looks down at his feet. wearing them has always been his dream. he peeks through the curtains, as a wave of panic rushes, cruises through his body. he looks at his painted fingers, and increases the volume of his mp3 player, as valli kanavan pirai screams in his subconscious mind. he drifts back to the day he saw his first love on the screen at home. the movement, the beat, the expression captivated his innocence so much, he dropped down the lego toy and went to his mother and father and said, mum, i wanna dance. dad looked down at his son, horrifed, that he wanted to dance and mum in bewilderment, on what he was talking. suddenly he was jerked back to reality as his hand were pulled, "you are next, get prepared" he said " huns, been doin that all my life" and smiled. this is it, he thought. im ready he took off the player, , hands at his side, and strode out, at que music. in his mind and heart shouting estatically, i am dancing."

"she sighs as another jump played its impact on her sore feet.'concentrate gal! you have to be in top shape!!' her mum's less then encouraging banter, be-seated, with her jathi stick poised to strike again. the aunt on the veenai gave her a sharp but sympathetic look. ' maybe she needs a break, she has been dancing non stop for quite some time you know" she said giving a slight hope. ' nonsense, she is not tired, she is just not concentrating. if you are tired , you can take rest...' the aunt gave another look and her eyes spoke her emotions. sympathy flowed through it. 'its ok aunt, im not tired.... i can dance, no worries.. take a break if you are felling tired..' the aunt threw a faint smile, and nods.. the shakes her head. she smiles as she adjusts her sash into place, and gets into aramandi again. she nods. her mum begins, ' from the start sadhana!, no cutting in between when you stop... ' and she begins.. asai mugham maranthu poche.. ' she bends, slightly and twist her hips getting into position and begin her formation of mudras deftly. if only her mums voice was not loud, she would her heard her mind and heart groaning, i am dancing.."

watcha think?

Sunday, 16 January 2011

attitude paradigm, in point blank.

*omigosh! having a major crush on a lecturer!!!!! sigh… moving on*

people surrounding us have their own set of behavioral traits that makes or breaks their success on their social calendar. speaking of which, there is a huge difference on what is their social calendar like. some will have  trashy local reality series grand finale as the event to go, while others may look forward to the annual malaysian tatler’s debutante ball.  as crude as it may sound, status quo is not a new phenomenon, rising from schools to work places. they have it decided by them for them, so not one is to be blamed here (not that is a crime to have friends of different background!). and then we have the wannabe’s.

a major pain in the neck, these group of yuppies have always managed to irk the hair of almost every body who have came across them in their daily life. these people are in serious need of character building, cause they simply don’t have one! its like they  are still stuck in time. quoting a dear friend, (thanks sammy!) even the rugrats have grown up( the series is called all grown up now), so can you! some may argue imitation is the best form of flattery, but it may not be the case with some of them as they only managed to make them look like needy of some desperate attention. in the end, they will end up like lindsay lohan, who claimed she forgot her actual hair color due to over dyeing it so many times with all the colors in the spectrum. ok maybe not all the color in the spectrum. but still the point here is, originality is always the best presentation to truly bring the best in oneself.

adjusting ones principles and character and adapting one’s character and principles are two different things. some may keep on adjusting and adjusting till they get lost in the transition and in the end, try their level best to become well just about every body they come in contact with. adaptation how ever is the same interpretation in a different perspective. the essence still carries the same weight, amid in a reformed context. you still project originality and at the same time you don’t annoy someone so much till the dedicate an entry in their blog, ranting try make their annoyance sound civilized and some sense *snorts!*

good day.