Yet Again.........

I was having just another normal weekend when I bumped into him.

Why did he have to come now?? .His ill-mongering shadows were not following me for sometime. And I thought i had got rid of him

My heart suddenly became heavy  and all those pestiferous feelings which came along with him every time I crossed his way crept back at dead of night

I couldnt get myself to focus at work. A deadly drowsiness draped itself deliriously around me.

Once again i could not sleep.

I struggled to breathe.

I choked on air.

I kept tossing and turning in my sheets.

My tiny little trashcan couldnt hold anymore tissues.

I buried myself in the blankets, shivering now, sweating then

My body was broken, my blood was boiling in anguish.

My lips had become dry and stiff as an old oak

I lost my voice. I could barely speak.

I dint go to work the next day. I couldnt fight him anymore. And this wasnt the first time that he took over me this way.

So I decided I shouldnt resist , and instead just let him pass.

Hereafter this is how im gonna handle you. I wont runaway from you, neither am I gonna fight you. I'll just let you pass. 

And today Im feeling much better.

I just followed  my late granny's advise.... took steam and gargled regularly and kept clearing the nasal passage with saline drops.

My throat still needs some mending. That apart, I feel as sound as a nut.

*Rain drops keep fallin' on ma head.........

It rained in Bangalore..... yet again!!. It squalled and thundered. Trees fell, UPS failed, Power gone and my clothes that were happily drying at home got a bonus wash.

As I was leaving from work, one of my colleagues advised me to stay in till it stopped pouring. But it is my fervid conviction that I would make use of any opportunity that might come by, to enjoy every single situation in life as it is ( I try, you see, to live in the moment).

So what do I do? I roll up my jeans, tie up my hair into a bun, spread open my umbrella, and splash right into the puddle.

Boy!! and wasnt that fun.

The scent of the fresh, wet, earth and the chill of the mighty excited storm filled my senses.

In a few minutes, I couldnt see through my glasses. it had droplets all over it.So I took them off and dangled it on my collar. ( Anyone who has been around me for a while, knows that that is where I always put it.)

The roads, were practically empty, to my surprise, except for the public transport buses and some private cars. Most of them had parked their vehicles, in nearby places and had found shelter, either in some shops or buildings.

While the fat, heavy raindrops were hammering down, I got to see how people reacted so differently to this cloudburst.

A bunch of yuppie college kids had fun pushing each other into the rain out of a totally packed bus station, A couple found it cozy and safe inside an ATM kiosk( an ATM booth!!!! i sooo wanted to say "what an idea, sirjee"), Men complained and cursed the rain, as they wiped water off their helmets and laptop bags, Women tried holding up all those duppattas and salwar and scarf and a number of other clothes and goodies they had on them and some tiny tots played with paper boats .

They all stared at me like I were a specimen, hopping in the rain, singing to myself, the too-happy-to-be-true-kinds.

Now this moment, ....... this very moment of my life...was indelible happiness........

I knew exactly what to do as i got home. I changed into some warm clothes, made a hot steaming cup of coffee for myself, and left the door open so that i could watch the rain as i wrote .... this!!

* from the BJ Thomas song.

This chapter of my life is called “Dreaming”

It is my fervid conviction that I want to build a house of my own. I don't know WHERE I am going to build it, and I also don't care a flying fish* about WHEN I'll be able to do this. All I know is that it is going be the most beautiful yet simple house ever.


My parents and friends would come and not want to leave. They will appreciate each and every idea and detail that went into the design and the form.

I would repeat the whole conservation in my dream about how they loved everything ---- from the patio, the french country kitchen cabinets, my spacious attic, the basement cum study; to the cookie jars at the dining, towel holders, scented oils, and potpourri in the bathroom.

I know what furniture I need, what plants to grow, what crockery and cutlery to use , what curtains to drape, what Salvador Dali painting to hang where and even what dogs to pet.

Yes, the dogs... three of them, Cookie, Hugsy and Ty. Cookie is a beagle, the youngest and the naughtiest. Hugsy is an adorable, golden retriever, totally hugg-able!!( I named him after Joey's stuffed toy-penguin from F.R.I.E.N.D.S) and Ty is a fully grown, male, white labrador . He makes sure that the rest of them behaves ( including me)!.

I would replay this pretty picture of me coming back home, welcomed by jumping dogs, fresh scent of the pauls-scarlett climbers , and the warm embrace of logs burning at the hearth--- over and over again.

And I would bake every time someone came home. Souffle it would be, anything less in my story-book house would be a shame. They would call me the pastry -princess , as they relish down delicious slices of pies, made out of freshly picked blueberries, served with whipped cream and butter.

I would play my Tin Whistle (an irish flute), and put my dogs off to sleep and pick up yet another short story of Chekov, Murakami or Saki and snuggle myself up in my bed till my eyelids fail me.

Gradually I'll fall asleep too, feeling content, and wanting nothing more from life.

As I said, this chapter is called “Dreaming”