@ HOME

Drawing a house with a tree and an ocean (actually a water body, thanks to my poor sense of scale and perspective as a kid) was my favourite sketch during art classes and boring Sundays all through my school days. Later I convinced myself that maybe deep inside I always knew I would become an architect someday. I wonder what my concept of a home was, as we literally lived out of suitcases, packing and unpacking, shifting to close to a ten houses spread over five states, before settling to life in hostel for close to a decade.

May be it is a human  instinct, for most of us , this would have been our first piece of art work or rather the only piece, which lay stuck above our study tables over ages. The raising sun over the hills, sometimes the shining sun above the roof, the inevitable “v” shaped birds  hovering over the cotton candy clouds, the clover shaped trees, grass detailing, the flowing river with me fishing, the laid path to the door of the sloped roof house, the windows with curtains on sides, the smoke from the chimney, sometimes I used to add books and a swing to the sides…ah  pictures made truly from  the heart, they speak, so much, even  today. A perfect home with a garden and a library along the beach, I don’t think beyond it for a dream house even today after years of architectural training.

I never realized the connectivity, memories and sense of place and security this picture holds in every person’s mind until today. The talk by a architect cum volunteer working with Syrian refugee children in Austria said it all. The images she showed about the drawings made by children during an art therapy session was heart wrenching. It was all the same. Later drawings made by the refugee adults who joined these children were shown. It was all the same, again. Everyman had a child inside him, which came out as art, as an expression of pain, loss and longing. Most of them drew what they loved the most, their home. It was more than a mere drawing of one’s home, homeland and memories. It was an expression of life. Period.

I guess I can never again look at a child’s sketch of its house just as a drawing. It’s going to haunt me for life. House is not just a place to stay, stories begin and end here, nothing can be like @ HOME.

கல்லும் மண்ணும்  வீடுகளில்லை
 அன்பின் வீடே  அழிவது இல்லை

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-Invisible boundaries-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

சொர்க்கம் சென்றாலும் சொந்த ஊர் போல்சுகந்திரம் வருமா?வருமா?.....Are a few lines from the refuge song from the movie Kannathil Muthamittal. But a post on a famous page in Facebook recently on the Syrian crisis made me think twice on those lines.

Terribly tiny tales had this post online, and I am sure all those read it, had no escape. Its like the words of the young boy whose lifeless self was flashed on all channels and printed on all newspapers and remains etched in our memories for ever. 

Civil wars, ethnic conflicts , socio - economical crisis, we see all of it, everywhere. True, all of them may not have instant solutions but what is more humiliating and painful in life more than being uprooted, shattered dreams, lost jobs, broken childhood and what is it like when a family faces all of this emotional struggle together with no food and no shelter?

Words fail this time, we call ourselves globalised than civilised and that the whole world, a global village. Then suddenly we remember we have this invisible boundaries called geographical lines which actually separates us. Global oneness is long forgotten and we  lay fresh barbed wire fencing to reinforce the invisible and Oh yes, they are electrified too this time, we put the best use of technology during crisis management. Shame on us. We are busy building walls without doors so that we hear no knocks. We don't realise this situation makes sure no one hears our cries when we lay trapped in this safe walled home(land). Its time we knock them down and build new ones, this time with plenty of doors and windows.

மண்ணில் தானே எல்லைக்கோடுகள்....மனதில் கோடு யார் போட்டது??

Search (I) Engine

Just as the whole town is talking about google’s new logo, I am taken back to my thoughts on search engines and how much they have made life easier, exiting and global, yet we have not done away from our search for the best inner search engine.

No, the self-help - self-discovery books don’t help, the millions of apps on our smart phones on personality tests don’t help, the funny and quirky tests on facebook relating us to every celebrity , every historical character, every cartoon character under the sky doesn’t really help. When I see these results I want to shout loud- No...Naan Ava(l)n Ilai…

For, I am the most talkative person on earth for a minute and suddenly the silent, sensitive, snub. I too blow hot and cold like the all of you out there.  I want to be awarded the most workaholic person and suddenly yearn for a vacation. My mind cannot sleep with the million thoughts when my body fights for sleep, from exhaustion.

Am I a day dreamer or a night thinker?

Do I want adventure or peace?

Should I go for a meditative sleep or power yoga?

Do I want to rest at the deep roots or climb the top branch?

Should I keep the day job or pursue that passionate hobby?

Should I hone my strengths or fight my fears?

And should I be a successful person or be a peacemaker, healer, restorer, storyteller and lover of all kinds? Yeah, the same old David Orr or Dalai Lama dilemma.

Sorry search engines and research engineers, for I sing a song only I can hear.

Remainder = Happiness

When your favourite movie is" The pursuit of happyness" and when you like the happy page on facebook , you got to have a high score on a happiness quotient test, right? Nah, I didn’t want to want to go through one online. Instead I decided to make list on what keeps me happy and going.

I am no Matthieu Ricard to be the happiest person on earth or Gautama Buddha to not crave for happiness. It is not always that choking happiness that keeps you awake all night, sometimes it is just that feel good happiness that gives you sleep and at times dreams.

Happiness is, a good book, good music, good weather, sometimes all the three.

Happiness is, getting lost at the beach with the deep sea and its roar, aww the infinity.

Happiness is, sleeping late to watch the night sky.

Happiness is, waking early to catch the sunrise.

Happiness is, new plants in the garden.

Happiness is, a yummy meal with leftovers.

Happiness is, a balloon which tells me- you have places to go.

Happiness is, the smell of wet soil and drizzle.

Happiness is, helping someone rebuild their walls, with sunshine.

Happiness is, reading your thoughts in someone’s poem.

Happiness is, writing letters.

Happiness is, life’s second chances.

Happiness is, dreams, sometimes without vision.

Happiness is, memories.

Happiness is, not racing with the clock.

Happiness is, chair in the balcony.

Happiness is, library.

Happiness is, travelling without destination.

Happiness is, getting lost in conversations and silence that follows.

Happiness is, surprising someone.

Happiness is, someone noticing your absence.

Happiness is, scars of healed wounds.

Happiness is, child’s laughter.

Happiness is, an old couple on their morning walk.

Happiness is, a motivating story.

Happiness is, reading someone’s thoughts.

Happiness is, a window seat and breeze through your hair.

Happiness is, mending a broken toy, sometimes a broken heart.

Happiness is, the favourite song in the radio.

Happiness is, a thank you card.

Happiness is, shower.

Happiness is, an unexpected rainbow.

Happiness is, intelligence.
Happiness is, innocence.

Happiness is, a new hobby.

Happiness is, colour pens.

Happiness is, a new language.

Happiness is, sharing food.

Happiness is, writing and ink stained fingers.

Happiness is, sitting under a shady tree.

Happiness is, planning someone's wedding.

Happiness is, having my own business.
Happiness is, doodles.
Happiness is, stationery.
Happiness is, sound of waves.
Happiness is, home made food.
Happiness is, music till sleep.
Happiness is, love with words.
Happiness is, art.
Happiness is, honesty.
Happiness is, understanding an unknown language.
Happiness is, long train journey.
Happiness is, endless discussion,
Happiness is, dreaming.
Happiness is, lunchbox.
Happiness is, school bell.
Happiness is, laughter.
Happiness is, stranger's smile.
Happiness is, rain without umbrella.
Happiness is, mental dialogue.
Happiness is, running.
Happiness is, being ordinary.
Happiness is, atlas.
Happiness is, humming.
Happiness is, travel bag.
Happiness is, drape.
Happiness is, love.
Happiness is, stories.
Happiness is, getting lost.
Happiness is, unending thoughts.
Happiness is, quotes.
Happiness is, questions.
Happiness is, an artist.
Happiness is, a writer,
Happiness is, a stranger.

Happiness is, writing a journal.

Happiness is, a trinket box.

Happiness is, a secret wish.

Happiness is…hmmm the list goes on.

Tomato to Zomato

White shirts will attract ketchup like magneto attracts iron. – Food law #

You can’t help it, when starting with a food quote is trending.  A decade ago all I knew about food was ketchup and that ketchup was good on anything, sometimes even on ketchup and today I am hooked up on zomato before and after every meal out.

The second gen of food revolution is here, where we love to try recipes even from leftovers. Cookery shows are telecast on prime time and they give channels their maximum TRPs. Chefs are the latest celebrities and at times even poster boys, a smiling face is half the meal.

It is not mindless eating. We eat healthy; diets are upgraded to six small meals, no more starving. Yogas and workouts are giving way to foods that heal, power foods they call it. Organic shops are put up at every noticeable corner. Green tea, Kombucha, bubble tea share space with filter coffee in our daily beverage list. Even water is no more plain, they are flavoured with lemon, strawberry, cinnamon, tulsi and what not. Mom adds millets to dosa batter, dad lectures on antioxidants and bro sends link about tasty sprouts. Never has food been the talk of the town like it is now. Cooking has become a family affair. Toddlers are taught not to waste food. Schools take trips to organic farms, conduct cookery competitions and hold community lunch on Sundays.

Now microwave beeps are ringtones. A best seller is called “who moved my cheese?”.  The recent blockbusters are called- Pizza, Jiggirthanda, Lunchbox, Un samayal araiyil and Kalyana samayal sadam. Love, respect and craze for food is truly unconditional. Shopping for food is a therapy. A bubbly foodaholic friend of mine can’t resist cakes and excuses herself each time saying it is somebody’s birthday somewhere today, so let’s celebrate.

Personally I can’t remember when exactly did the transformation from a picky eater who had an aversion for food become the food lover who is crazy enough to write about it. Maybe it was the hungry days spent standing in endless queue in hostel for that  so called dosa, or maybe it was those early days of cooking when sambar became thokku and oats got burnt and still had to be consumed, or maybe it was those magical days when mom loves your rasam, friends crave for your pomegranate -bhujia-raita, or maybe it is the day you cook up a whole meal and feel like you are back from a jog on a beach, messed up hair, sweaty and salty, curried palms, aching legs but with that twinkle in the eyes  that inspires you to install a mirror in the kitchen or upload a kitchen selfie.

The next best thing to eating food is talking about it. We are all in a relationship, with food, for all it asks for- is to STAY HUNGRY, STAY FOOLISH. (Oh yeah, it all started with the apple)

The universe is made of tiny stories and not atoms.

Yeah, at times even the serious me defies all logic and worldly reasoning. In fact, the real me connects to everything and feels responsible for everything.  Compassion hurts, kills, makes life and so does connections. Connections that make us build walls with windows and bridges with gates. Connections that make chemistry, give energy and create stories.

There is no childhood without-“Once upon a time”, actually there is no life without those lines. The tiny stories, moments and the gap between those moments are actually priceless, boundless and infinite. Somebody had hit the right line by saying some infinities are bigger than other infinities.

There is a story behind every life . What are moments and memories without emotions and context?

We build homes, not houses.

We wander, not travel.

We add spice, not cook.

We perform, not shower.

We feel the rain, not just get wet,

We breathe stories, not just read books.

We doodle, not just scribble.

We live, not ride.

We create, not make.

We feel, not think.

We trust, not believe.

We daydream, not quit.

We all are budding drama queens who love to live and hate to fake it. Even pain demands to be felt. From every wound there is a scar, and every scar tells a story. A story that says, I survived. Tell me your story. I’ll listen; it is the best seller I have been waiting for.

hmmm 2015....time takes time

Let me fly, says little birdie-Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Primary school poems seldom go wrong.  We realize it decades later that time really takes time. A baby crawls before it walks and babbles before it talks only, to realize walking and talking is tiresome and no longer funnier like the former.

The excitement to see the final product takes away the sheer happiness in enjoying the process. The race against time is only to crib at the end about the lost time. Like they say, bees have to move very fast, only to stay still.

Stop, linger, pause is an amazing mantra as against the notion of life is too short to safely remove an external device. Rushing in life means fast forwarding, newer things, forgetting the past and of course wasting a lot.  I think this is what drives me to recycle and reuse things. Yes, it is a heavy baggage to carry, but isn’t life all about hiking with rucksacks? The resolution for 2015 is not to throw away things and people. Life is too short only to forgive quickly.

Let the new year give me time to walk slowly and catch the morning breeze, eat slowly and relish every bite, read calmly and read between the lines, breath slowly and inhale the rhythm of music, listen well even the unsaid words, think slowly and I have nothing to lose, act slowly to express and not impress and of course to sleep peacefully and not check the time before the alarm is gone and race ahead of time.

The killing of my pet cactus is the testimony to my confusion of being complete or being content; growing slowly or standing still. Every experience makes me grow. Time takes time.

Welcome 2015, let us live, love and laugh.