Barefoot...under the sky

I always wish that beaches should have a signage reading – “footwear not allowed”, yeah, why not, I feel it is one of the most sacred places on earth. The only place other than temples, where I forget myself.

Where do I begin with, every time I visit a beach, it is like reading a new book, it has an untold story for me. I feel so new like as if all my internal softwares have been updated. Like today is the first day for the rest of my life. The sea can wash the weight of the world from my shoulders.

The clarity of the blue sky and bluer ocean engulfs all my confusions. The sound of the waves, the feel of the water at my feet, is one of the best moments I have had in life. The complex ocean soothes me. I feel close to Einstein’s word here-

Out of clutter, find simplicity.

From discord, find harmony,

In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.

I feel this, everytime I get lost and find myself in the sands of the beach. I loose myself to the vastness of the ocean, I feel timid and lost in front of it yet I find peace, I find myself. I never get tired of the endless blue sky and the blue ocean, they teach me each time that I am a significant small. The untiring waves tell me, you are searching so hard, you have lost yourself, move on, some things never change. I make life decisions at the beach.

I had once read- the cure for anything is salt water – sweat, tears or the sea. Later life taught me; sometimes it is the combination of the three. It is the best place to de-stress, unwind and to get lost. When I am mad at something or in distress, the only thing that runs in my mind is – I want the ocean right now and trust me, it works.

Be it watching the sunrise, or reading a book, for catching up with a friend or just to awaken my soul, it is the sea. I wonder how is that, in spite of the action of the waves and the roars of the sea, I find calm here, I find no answers.

My life lesson – when feeling blue, go to where the blue sky meets the blue sea.

(PS- go barefoot <3 <3…)

mystic and mysterious - my god !!

Between alchemists, contemplation at beaches, self-talks and endless talks with like souls, I felt this is it, the meaningful nothingness and calm heaviness is my version of divinity, the feel.

I get reminded of being scolded by my mother for closing my eyes while praying in temples, gosh you missed the darshan, and I was told.  Little did I know back then that it was this mystery that I liked about god.  The feeling of being there, yet not.

During a discussion at office for a design of a prayer space we realized how culturally and socially man has made this a truth. The interior of the sacred sanctity of south Indian temples, technically called the garba griha, are dark and mysterious unlike the grandeur and splendor of their exterior. The moolavar or the prime deity is mostly made of stone and is dark sans a few ornamentation. They have a flickering deepam which gives lends an aura and a glimpse of the deity. The moment of the aarthi, the only time it is light brightly, I would say, is definetly a magical mystical moment even to an atheist. It makes you spellbound, the play of light and darkness, the spell of camphor, the sound of the bells, the chant of the slokas, the aura of the place.

Also we realized, up north, the interior of the temples as well as the deities are bright and colourful, made of marble and heavily decked up like the culture and festivity of the place. The god is obvious , there are elaborate pandals, people sing, dance and celebrate.

The discussion continued into our love and confusions over the kolams vs. the rangolis, the golus vs. the garbas, the deepams vs. the holi, the adhirasams vs. the rasagulas, we decided it has to be a very personal decision and decided to postpone it.

But the talk stirred in me  my actual love for old south Indian temples, why the visit gave me peace, in spite of not being a strongly religious or ritualistic person. We do not want our journeys to end, do not want all our questions to be answered, do not like our tomorrows to be revealed. Searches and questions keep us going, like there is always a tomorrow.  Oh my…the FM is playing-

ninaithu ninaithu paarthen…
nerungi vilagi nadandhen…

Drive me crazy...

I belong to that stupid crowd (I don’t know if I am alone here or if there really is any crowd ) that is pretty contend in life being a passenger and stays away from driving.

I am usually awestruck when I see people have great control over the vehicle and swish past like a pro. Its like I have two left feet or at times none, can never control my moves on land or in a vehicle. Driving is like magic to me.

Beyond the unusual craziness over bikers and pilots, I respect and admire the drivers of all public transport. Every time I use the public transport, which I do often, I am lost at the window and secondly at the drivers. They carry scores of people every day, safely. I often wonder, what would happen if they got distracted for a second. They just don’t drive for themselves; it’s a responsibility.

Salutes and bows to every alert pilot that saved hundreds on board, the bus driver who jammed the bus in a near by tree on realizing the failing brakes, just killing himself, these people who stay cool and alert even during calamities and hijacks. To every captain, pilot, cab man and drivers who reach a destination just by driving, not laying back to enjoy the view.

Once in an auto, the driver was cribbing about me refusing to pay above the usual fare, and me arguing reasonably that there is a hike in the auto fare and petrol fortnightly but I get a bonus only once a year. Then out of the blue he asked me about my qualification and why I didn’t manage to get employed in IT sector which paid returns. I told him I am an architect.

The man bowled me over saying he built his own house, brick by brick all by himself and hadn’t cleared even his SSLC exams two decades ago and challenged me if I could. To smile was all I could do. He told he has read all religious scriptures and was trying to understand what was religion and why all this fight. To fuel my silence, he claimed he was Lord Krishna, the charioteer, who was instrumental in guiding this travel of common man. “Enna Madam, Krishnanum driver dhane??!!, Appo naanum Krishnan dhane?!! Naan dhan kalki avadharamo??!!”

Now even my smile had vanished, I felt so small  in the auto.Like they say, nothing beats a really good drive…

There’s a hundred-thousand streets in this city. You don’t need to know the route. You give me a time and place; I give you a five minute window.-driver

HERE.....I am

We come into the world announcing our arrival with a cry, see here I am to live. We are given a name and no more just a baby. We cry, crawl, walk, talk, dance, sing and also shout for attention. All of us enjoy the limelight.

 Soon to school, running the race carrying trophies, shields, medals and certificates in addition to the bags and homework. They shouldn’t be called stress or peer pressure. You have to push, let the world see you and gasp- oh the man kid!!

Behind the scenes we do our best to create the identity to yearn to create, don up wall with posters of people we love, admire and adore. Doodle, scribble and nibble.We are scolded for wasting time on dreaming, off late even for thinking. Follow the time tested formula of scores, college, job, home, car and marriage and kids and propogate this cycle of life. We do most of the above, though not in the same order. We preach the life mantra-life and let live, yet be the offset in the crowd.

So the world creates an identity for you, the universal one, in parallel to the one you have been creating for you, the unique one. So why wait; let us share, update status, like, ping, blog, and tweet and tell the world- here I am for who I am.

I may be branded but I am not.

I am the special me, so unique and so me.

I might not need the do not disturb me tag.

I am already disturbed, please come in.

Charged Spaces

In the quest for designing a perfect space, or at least close to a perfect space,  I decided to take journey down my memory line to understand and cherish spaces that I have enjoyed or spaces that have treated me with happiness.

 The exercise led to a lot of thought process hindered by teary eyes, thank god for memories.

The balcony of my first home, from where I waved to my dad every day, mornings and evenings. It was also my first gateway to the outside world.

The community park along the end of the road, which taught me nature and freedom.

The columns in my grandparent’s verandha where I hid during hide and seek and was never found.

The narrow setback around my house, which was my cycling track.

The foyer at home, where the actual test marks where confessed.

The antispace near the neighbor’s house where kolam was practiced.

The terrace above the second floor, where moon gazing and star hunting became a habit.

The bus stop, where the obviously forgotten home works were written.

 The staff room door, to peep in for late submissions and practice excuses.

The basket ball court, which was also the lunch room under the sky, where the tastebuds explored.

The untouched biology lab, with expanded the horizon of ghost stories told at school.

The last rack in the library, where the favourite books where hidden.

The courtyards at college, where living was taught.

The low bed in my best friend’s house, where the best secrets where traded.

The bogies of trains, travelled on during college trips, where tea and talking was unlimited.

The best corner in class, fought for during the worst of sleepy days.

The single room group stay at trips, where sharing was learnt.

And the best one, grandfather’s dark damp store room, loaded with linen, books and antiques, where I feel him and smell good old days, even today...

I have decided to call them the CHARGED SPACES...charged magically :)

Going cranky in the rain

I lay late in bed..waiting for dawn

Compensating for the late night yawn.

The sun  playing hide and seek,

Safely in the clouds’ mystique.

Cool breeze blows in,

Smell of the earth…awww gin.

Intoxicating …before I could think

The alarm clock rings

Its morning - my mind sings

But wait there is an amiss

It’s raining…I quiz.

Blanket tossed..on the feet

Wow..i miss the heat.

Coffee and paper forgone

For it is raining at dawn.

Forget the traffic and drains

Now its just me in rains..

Drenched, yet light

Standing, yet in flight

 I plunge into my treat

Dumbstruck at nature’s feat.

So  stay calm

And enjoy the rain’s charm.

My four eyed dreams...

So it was to school, after years of babbling and crawling. I was loaded with a brand new bag, water bottle, uniform and spectacles. This new heavy lens on my eyes hurt more than the headache that resulted in me wearing it. I knew I looked funny in it and funnier when I wore it with the cord at it ends handing around my neck.

Little did I know that funny wasn’t the word until the whole LKG A gasped at me when I entered the first day at school, poor me, I happened to be the only one in class with glasses. Finally I smiled at the end of the day when the principal came around with a big eyes and bigger glasses. Not everybody is named a nerd even before they learn the alphabets right. I have cried-why me? on irritated days and also sulked at others on strong days.

This start continued all the way through the 8 schools I studied during my 14 years of schooling. Though coping up different states and languages was hard, I always felt at home because I was nick named “kanadi” “chashmish” “nerdy” “geeky” “buddi” which all meant the same. So I got this identity of the four eyed girl and I wore it with pride.

It was alien to see me without it. If I forgot it any day, the whole world enquired if I was ok and what had happened to my glasses. In college, when the regular bespectacled people shifted to contact lenses, I still didn’t part with my glasses. Gosh..I couldn’t think of removing the lenses when I was sobbing over a movie or before dozing off during a lecture or before enjoying the winds at the beach. So I remained me, living and dreaming with it. But still conscious when all I could see was the flash on my glasses invariably hiding my face in all photographs. The stubborn scars due to the continuous use of the nose pads of the glasses refused to fade over bottles of honey, rose water and almond oil, a costly affair.

Then came a fine historic day, during the regular check up, when both eyes cleared a 6/6..Wow..wat a miracle!! The optimist opthomologistic rechecked her readings and told me casually that I might not be in need of any spectacles.. It took me time to gather my senses and asked her it was ok and that I have been using glasses more than two decades of my life..!! The chief consultant was called and after going through all the prescriptions printed in different states, by different doctors, he stated it just not possible that my –power could have improved. But how??why??  were left unanswered. Nevertheless, the verdict was no glasses !!!!

I left the hospital happy, that finally my four eyed dream of freedom from glasses was achieved, true freedom..sans laser..sans lenses…hurray!! But it was like a limb was cut off…suddenly there was no weight on my nose…but a heavy heart. Even now…after a fortnight I wake up reaching for my glasses and smile sleepily suddenly when I realize I don’t need them anymore..Kudos to my four eyed dreams..!!

zzzz..................