Skip to main content

Posts

Showing posts from May, 2010

Him & Her

I gave him a turtle
Slow and steady

He gave me a baby
Loud and noisy

I gave him language
Simple and easy

He gave me meaning
Deep and strong

We travel miles
Not moving at all

We live through days
Measured in seconds

My heart stops
His love remains

Our journey continues
Through a jungle of pain

Raindrops of tears
Clouds of sleepless nights

And time that envelopes
A sad letter with an ending

A letter head reads, "Heartbroken"
Beware.

Origins

It's been a painful week and I do firmly believe that the statement, that will define a movement in my life has been made.

The last such statement was when on radio a long time ago, the host asked me how celebrating Diwali was different in Malaysia to the way it gets celebrated in India. And I didn't know the answer to it, because I'd simply never been home at that time, at least not for the preceding eight years. Considering I was 15 years of age then, I'd left the country when I was seven and I didn't remember the festival, because I'd never gotten more than a days leave at that time.

As a result of that conundrum, I moved back. A move that changed my life, and saw me flee the country again, when I turned eighteen for University. I was done with India, I wanted to go home.

That was then, and now a few short years below a decade later I face a similar question. With the damage of my passport recently, I was asked, in order to get a replacement, what documents I h…

Escape

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 10; the tenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

The Temple Widow

A narrow dirt path, generously peppered with tiny pebbles, tiny miniatures of their gargantuan ancestors, leads to a bridge. It hangs, rickety and old. Old but not well used, old like abandoned and not frequently used. The bridge hangs low over a small stream that slowly gurgles past, happy unlike those that visit the place.

The bridge leads to a temple. It is not very big, only perhaps the size of a small hut and at the most the size of an average temple hall. The temple has no deity; the temple has no one corner that doesn’t look like the other. It is clean, well swept, and empty. It has no furniture, and excepting a series of well spaced out windows, the walls remains uninterrupted.

She stumbles in, the lady. She is not very tall; the te…