It Tugs, I Twitch, It Beeps, I Peek

We seem to have abandoned the days when weddings and births were announced on the house phone, and the household huddled around to gather every ounce of the conversation. The house phone seldom rings anymore, and with that we have almost done away with such ceremonious revelations. You no longer have to wait to be informed by your aunt that the pregnant cousin of yours has delivered. A beep on your hand held device alerts you of the baby's arrival and pictures of the new born are flashed across the world even before it may have taken the first breath of life, leaving you wanting to scoop her already into your arms. Kith and kin, or better still, digital connections of this cousin, receive an on-the-spot update about how adoringly her husband thanks her for this bundle of joy. And as the beaming mother swooshes into texting, instant messaging and updating status on social networking sites, the pangs of labor and child birth thaw by degrees as she transports herself from meatspace to cyberspace via that indispensable widget she refuses to part with. Now think of this, some ten years back, when you brought forth a life no less precious into the world, did your husband applaud your attainment to that effect? Or, without the testimonials do you now feel less appreciated? Or, worse still, has the language of love undergone a transformation? Probably, it all lies in that little device which you appoint to publicize your privacy, and thereby forfeit those exclusively personal moments to digital eccentricity. And in the flush of this revolution in connectivity, does it turn out that our erstwhile existence, bereft of such trimmings, lay insipid in the confines of a small group of familiar associates?

Not a totally grim scenario, though. You may be vacationing on the Seychelles Islands and yet clinch a lucrative stock on SENSEX or get the latest on the NYSE. All courtesy the minuscule gadget you own. A decade ago, the average person was probably more diffident about technology. Not anymore. So, as you tweet about the London Olympics and post videos of the latest Pitbull concert in your town, you certainly can ask Siri, to guide you to the nearest Italian joint in your vicinity. It's all about 'biting into the Apple' or latching on to the 'Blackberry'.

While telecommunication facilities vary from nation to nation, and from region to region, we quite easily store every bit of information on our mobile devices, so much, so that this pocket-sized gizmo turns out to be a ubiquitous personal assistant. So dependent are we on our smart phones, that parting with the same awhile afflicts us with a disagreeable feeling of incompleteness. All communication between friends, co-workers and acquaintances living across the globe, is simply and most effectively contained in our pockets. You have this sudden urge to say something to your friend, least important it may be, swoop into a schmooze even while you are swaddled in your duvet! Emotions flow freely. You may not get yourself to saying things aloud, but typing and tapping 'send' is all too easy. To say 'love you', 'thinking about you' 'missing you' or 'did you have your pill this morning', is all but a pushover and simple as ABC? In other words, love, care and concerns are now digitalized. With animated smileys, you tap the keypad or simply touch the screen at any odd hour and let your heart open up to your loved one at the other end. It's no more about sitting at your workstation or embracing your laptop. It doesn't even matter if you're living in unmatched time zones, if you haven't hibernated for the day, you're always there to answer a call or acknowledge a text...and then you're on a roll!

Moreover, with twitter feeds rolling in every second, a meeting at the workplace no more palls on you. Tweets let us keep in touch when we are not blah- blahing on the mobile phone. Facebook updates roll in every minute, and you get to see that your friend in Oslo is enjoying the spectacular northern lights, while you are sitting through that draggy, dreary meeting, headed by that acrimonious boss of yours.

It may lift our spirits to know that we are in communication, even though we may be tens of thousands of miles away from each other. Technology has actually made it possible to dive into one another's life at random moments. With video calling facilities enabled, you can connect with your mom no matter where you are, and show her how sassy you look in that outfit she gifted to you on your last anniversary. Even as, you allow your mind to go wild on the scary possibilities of this video calling feature, you may just need to box up at times. After all, would you like to 'facetime' with a friend when you have your face layered with a cleansing mask, ugh? Well, that may be just one of your many flashes you may not want to share. Yet, with 3G, 4G and the innumerable Gs evolving, it just doesn't matter, where you are or what you're up to. All that matters is that smart pocket device that beeps in harmony with every move you make, reminding and reassuring you that all those who matter are just a click away. With the pervasive and unrestricted wireless services, networking is simply at the push of a button. And, if you possess the gizmo, you have it all there.

The smart phone virtually has broken barriers, blurred distances and has made information available literally at one's finger tips. And with that omnipresent ding, technology has gifted us with a peerless vim. Paradoxically, even as we bemoan the gluttony of wireless connections, this contraption certainly gets us hooked as it slides the world into the cozy confines of our pockets, and fills us with a warm complacency of being connected in a rather disconnected world.

Smartly yours!

Enraptured

The day dawns and rolls along, he strides in with a blow His rugged, virile odour says here comes my beau Oh, how long have I filled time, this he very well knows While enchantment for my lover boy, every minute grows A year without him seemed a somber, blue moon When prayers and wishes for a warrior, all held festoon Warring in a battlefield, he lived a home away from home A vernal bride I was, desolate, snatched of my chrome Hearts locked in desire, bodies inflamed with passion Eyes, arms and lips all pine for cupidity's appetition Fidelity, fervor, flame and fondness he brings me tonight An enamored bride, I yield in ripe,sensuous delight Two bodies and a soul swept in a glorious embrace The moment's adorned with an impassioned grace His silent affirmation warms the cockles of my heart A peerless affiance I make, am  forever yours, sweetheart !

Nostalgia....

In life's onward march As I sashay along In one abrupt tilt My paths cut across The old lang syne I live at crossroads Tossed across the yore Entwined between The extinct and extant Reflections roll by A retrospective sojourn In an enchanting slide Down a back street Which grasps me in a vision I once would not cast off Even as the present beckons And I move wittingly ahead I cannot but help look Wistfully, once at the past I've left far behind A milestone fondly reached Is now a memento A fore time reality In an inward flash Spins a clamant fantasy Nostalgia grips, A dream retires Into fairyland's folds And a story once told Remains a fairy tale forever.

The Last Caress

An unearthly hour of three it was The fiendish darkness sat sprawled  A glorious haven for macabre, crawled  Awaited another departure's ingress Into its gaping, gory, grisly stillness Street lamps dutifully glowed bright Waging a war with the fiend outright 'Twas nothing but a nocturnal torch Looking for ways to blackness forge Yet unmindful of the pallid repose Yellow light gleamed in the passageway Of a nursing home that had life underway Bloodless, frail Blythe pushed out a being Her very own form in flesh, wailing Into a world, where she lay on her way out The infant sucked on an ebbing breast As its mother sank into her swan song rest Cast one earnest look at her newborn's face As she rose up to the Holy Spirit's embrace A life petered out, as a new  one set about Blythe, the free spirit mingled with the Infinite Aileen, a new light, stayed to sublimate Her source extinguished, her nurture quashed A new life lay amidst  futurity's holocaust Whose wails pierced  through the hoarfrost At the hospice, splotches of blood were a persistent visitation And unusual tales were heard of a  phantasmagoric apparition On that wild, wintry night, in the ward, at the demoniac hour A shadow, a stray bone, an eerie moan and a wilted flower Arrived from nowhere, as a face peeped through frosty panes It was a  delirious, drafty night of  last Halloween Nurse Emily held a bawling Aileen in a gentle careen Whose angelic gaze shortly transfixed to the ceiling Her delicate mouth moving, as if she were feeding An aerial form seemed to possess the ward Lowering Aileen into her crib, Emily felt a shudder Albeit, the tiny life had slipped into a sweet slumber The virtuous nurse passed into Grim Reaper's chamber An inclement wind outside sounded a funereal moan As it blew across panes, fields and many a gravestone Death had just crossed borders with life.

Halloween

Betwixt and between fall and winter
Comes along a celebration of superstition
Riding astride plenty and paucity, life and death
Lies a world blurred by the living and the dead
Ghosts tour the earth as winter ushers dread

When  phantoms and vampires flock the earth
The vigil of the Samhain glows all night
Its embers in each household fires light
Days get shorter and nights stretch longer
All Hallows Eve is now Halloween

A night piqued in horror and monstrosity
Spooks, ghosts and walking skeletons
Witches, wizards, bats, cats and spiders
Blood, fire, gravestones and bones
Symbols of death sound eerie moans

Summon the warmth of fun and frolic
To chase the frightening and grotesque.
Masquerade parties and costumed kids
Fill the night with all their mirth
When All Hallows Eve meets All Saints Day.

Treats flock the nefarious
Ought not they trick the virtuous
Vampire Balls and Zombie Raves
Perform in great ghost costumes
At graveyard sites in Grim Reaper's robe

Li'l angels guised as monsters
Knock on your doors
Where hang spooky wreaths
'Trick or treat' they cry
Delight 'em with bun, candy or apple pie

Hollowed out pumpkins lit by candles hang
Bags of candy at doors, stand
The cold wind blows a mischief night
As "Funeral March" plays the note
At a 'Dead Like Me Party' or a 'Werewolf Ball'

Hours of gaiety and blithe
Ensues drones ousting revelry
As the freeze deadens the dark night
Time to stub the wrong and wrathful
And celebrate the new coming season

October thirty first is for
The dead of Celts, the goddess of Romans
And the saints of Christianity
Today, a time to share and get together
Time for reflection and celebration

To the dead and the living
As you get locked in the spell of the night
And fill your senses with awe and delight
Think of what you'd shockingly mutter
Were you to knock on Psychopath's door

"Have a creepy, eerie, bewitching Halloween!"

10/10

At the first buzz of the alarm clock, I left the bed  while it was still dark outside. While, on every other day, there is a desire to clutch the pillow and cop some Zs again, today it was different. I jumped out of bed and reached for my cell phone, something that I usually do not put my hands on at that insane hour. What surprised me pleasantly was a line of text messages, wishing me health, happiness and success. As I washed my yet dazed eyes, I sensed a surge of joy and an accelerated desire for the day to unfold. It was 10/10, my birthday!

While that explains the reasons for my stimulation and the stirring warmth inside me, I finally managed to pull a calmness about myself that helped me make a pretty softened entry into a day when I considered myself fortunate to be alive. I secretly thanked the Almighty for letting me live to see this beautiful day. After all how many have the privilege of getting up to realising joyfully that it is their birthday. In a way, birthdays are a gentle reminder of life that unceasingly beats inside us. Ironically, life is the single most invaluable treasure, the value of which cannot be estimated until a time comes when we have to make a desperate attempt to continue living.

A year ago, I felt lucky to celebrate my birthday on 10/10/10, a date that has gone down in history for the next one thousand years. This time, a full three hundred sixty five days later it was 10/10/11, clearly reminding me that I was well past that iconic year. A momentary nostalgia gripped me. I thought of all the fun and merriment that my loved ones had treated me to, and of the myriad wishes sent out by friends. Amidst the bliss of family life, lay the pleasure of having known some brill friends. Reminiscing the happy associations made over the years, I turned on to the most accessible means of connecting with them, the Internet.

However common place birthday wishes on networking sites may appear, yet when one sees them on one's memorable day, the thrill is immense. So with the typical curiosity that engulfs us on days likes these, I logged in to be delightfully surprised with some real warm wishes. It was indeed overwhelming to see the number of friends who had reached out. A single device that brings to one all kinds of news from the world over, also allows one to see different facets of life at the same time, and all at the click of a button. I read some of the email and messages sent out by well wishers. Nonetheless, my mind wandered to the corresponding tabs that flashed news and updates about the unfortunate demises of a couple of notable personalities. One had left the world after having created virtually a 'ding in the universe'. The other had kept a significant set of music lovers mesmerised with his mellifluous voice and had echoed their deepest thoughts in his soulful numbers. The void created by the end of such illustrious personalities sent a wave of grief amongst fans and followers, and tributes flooded the sites. I found a mourner in myself. The world had become acutely aware that there would be no more of this prodigiousness and things that appeared limitless existed no more. An irreplaceable void was all that remained.

Thoughts about the uncertainty and fragility of life plagued my subconscious sense through the day. On the one hand, there was the selfish joy of living in perfect health. This weighed restlessly against the abrupt extinguishing of two most precious lives that had shone like bright stars in their respective domains. Questions filled my head with a mysterious distress and sought answers that possibly could never be delivered. At one point, I was celebrating a desired moment of my life. At the other, I was mourning the untimely departure of those who had added advancement and beauty to the lives of millions of others. Paradoxically, the very best of wishes sent out by teeming fans to these great personalities in their lives, could not keep them from the untimely clutches of evil death. Nonetheless, they were celebrities in their fields who were not just glorified but had attained immortality through the legacy they have left behind.

As I went through the day with a marked felicity about the special time in my own life, I pondered over its vacillation between survival and annihilation, between life and death, the permanent and the transitory, and most plainly between living and dying. The uncertainty that grips something  we cherish most is the biggest reason for a mental unrest. The thoughts devitalized the sprightliness that filled me with, a while ago. In a state of inner turbulence and upheaval, I tried to interpret the train of thoughts that had cropped. All that I could gather was that while nothing lasts forever, not life in the least, the marks on one's souls  scored by touching the lives of others, almost certainly do. This is perhaps the one essence of living. No matter how long or short  life  is, its degree can be rated on a scale. All those that come close to a tenner are the credits earned, and become the defining aspect of one's life.

I thought about my own life and realised searchingly that I had done nothing extraordinarily to make my presence felt in this world. I admit I am not skilled enough to make such an impression. I wondered if I would be remembered after I departed. The idea almost annihilated me! There was an itch to add value to this most invaluable gift of life. It is in times of self assessment and reflection that one evaluates the reasons to live. One wonders whether it is worth being around.

 Yet, they say that one does not have to be heroic to be someone. There is still a lot that can be done by the most ordinary folks. Something that may not bring a divine name, but a strong sense of satisfaction. A complacency at having done something to bring about a change in the way things exist for others. There is always a need to bring about warmth in the lives of those who live with a cold disgust for the same. Although we become aware of the distress, despair and suffering that people around us endure, it is not particularly often that we reach out to them with empathy. A heart lent to one that suffers a heart ache, a resolve to provide that healing touch and above all a desire to present a selfless act of kindness, goes a long way in conciliating the giver and the receiver.

My thoughts travel back to myself and, I agree once again, firmly as ever. As I appreciate the little joys of everyday life I keep my steadfastness to live it up with the right set of values, values that keep me from erring, values that make me a better human being and values that help me contribute that nano bit to make the world a better place to live. Conclusively, I see the light at the end of the tunnel and I find myself not particularly far from obtaining a tenner. I can see in a blur the smiles that I have brought to faces that have desperately needed one. I can somewhat agree that the unique numbers are not merely etched as an occasion against my name. Instead, they uncannily remind me of their importance in my life and there is a constant and conscious effort on my part towards attaining this degree. The rewards earned are immeasurable. The implicit acknowledgement that come my way are the rightful wishes that characterize my soul with the comfort they have attained.

As I call it a day, it does not seem all that disagreeable ! 10/10 appears in sight, and I'm walking up to ground zero!

LIVING IN THE NOW

We often have sordid memories of yesterday, of things that did not go right, of those who wronged us and of events that shattered us. We may have moved on with a visible detachment to all that, but a lingering flame continues to flicker somewhere...Having transited into the present, we appreciate all that is worthy about being alive, about being surrounded by those we love and about the moments that make life worth living. With this realisation, we move ahead into weaving a future for ourselves, taking care to save a bit of good in everything, in order to breed a tomorrow that should possibly glow brighter than today.

There's a desire to hold on to joys that are ephemeral, and a greater desire to bring about a permanence in the transient. There is an urgency to kick out the stalemate and jump start into a headway. In doing so, we take turns and detours that land us into bumps, yet we march on with an effort to avoid pitfalls.

To be intimidated by bumps makes the onward march rather daunting. However, the remarkable spirit of adventure that we carry within, teaches us to tackle obstacles. Herein lies the true spirit of living a life, one that is neither entirely white nor thoroughly black. If we can appreciate the shades of grey and learn to polish the same to bring about a shine, we live life to a hilt. We have learnt to live in the moment, for when it passes we will have something to smile about, a smile that will outshine the tears.

With the right foot forward, life never takes us back. All we need is a VISION that goes beyond the wall. We may not be able to see in the dark but can still visualise light, and with this vision, life never detracts. It rather optimizes...all we need is to be conscious of every moment and have the goodwill to celebrate. Every celebration is what we look forward to, and this is what we live for! We are neither the optimist nor the worshiper, neither the utopian nor the visionary. We are realists. We experience, learn and value the ordinary pleasures of every day living.

Someone has rightly said, "We live in the age of distraction. Yet one of life's sharpest paradoxes is that your brightest future hinges on your ability to pay attention to the present."

Those Balmy Moments.....

Nothing can be as exhilarating as talking endlessly to a long time friend, getting started with  nothing distinct to talk about and then catching up on anything and everything in the universe. What starts with a casual "Hi! What's up?", ends in sharing fascinating details about each other's life, work, goings on and finally indulging in some peppy talks about common friends. All this on the phone with someone staying thousands of miles away from you, someone you have not met in decades, someone who lives an entirely different life today, yet you had once been good friends. Long ago you shared a turf, school or university and then dispersed. You connect after decades, and the affiliation comes to be revived even without meeting each other in person. What now reestablishes is a hearty bond built with someone living an entire continent apart. It is fascinating to realise how a certain bonhomie comes to be struck between friends who just see each other in pictures, but as their hearts speak, all that they hear is the click of buttons on their keypads. The printed exchange that follows, fills them with a pleasure they have not known in years. The varied smileys punched at intervals, speak emotions. Thanks to the Internet and social networking, precisely. A long lost friend is stumbled upon. Which other discovery can be more heart warming!

This morning as I prepared myself to begin a typical day, I was alerted by the buzz of my cell phone. I made off to pick the call, and was delighted upon hearing the voice of a friend who would drive me to peals of laughter, in the years when life knew little responsibilities. It was a time when college life meant friends, frolic, fun and pure joy. An everyday delight of meeting friends and sharing a part of life that ultimately had to bifurcate to be an entirely different one for each of us. We diverged as college students then and many years later converged as wives and mothers, on a popular social networking site. This morning on the phone as we started off with a basic exchange of pleasantries, we got talking about the pressures in our present lives, our families and so on. She and I live separated by geographical boundaries. A crisp, sunny morning for me but midnight for her. A huge distance between us and yet we felt the proximity. We  did get a definite kick out of the near couple of hours chat and I'm sure it left us both feeling buzzed.

We talked about ourselves, our lives, our families, our ageing parents and the state of affairs in our respective nations. Even though, the Internet connects us digitally, we call up each other once in a while, and each new conversation between us brings about a new delight. Oh, it is so much fun talking about the way we see the world! The funny thing is that we seem to share our perspective on life and times. Our lives at two different places are lived in similar ways, and we have similar concerns and similar vision. With so much in common, we  often get talking about some of the common friends we have. In fact, that is the mutual ground that we share in real terms, even today. It is interesting that we have not met in the last two decades, yet we do talk at length about this one and that. We talk about how some of our friends appear when they update their status on social media sites and how every printed word of theirs reflects their personality, how people appear when they go overboard in expressing themselves, how ubiquitous some of them are, and how some turn a tad bit unsavoury. We talk about people bitten by the narcissism bug and how we manage to keep ourselves somewhat away from all that clutter. All this and much more....we go about updating each other on the 'interesting' lives of some mutual friends and so on. We often do admit to indulging in some gossip, and agree upon not quoting each other at any time, for certain back-fence-talks ought to be kept under wraps. Believe me, but once we openly confess to babbling, we realize the fun that lies therein; not the fun in talking about the lives of those that do not concern us, but the playfulness in getting so close in such a farness that we have between us. Priceless!  And this morning as we gossiped, now and then we checked to see if we were holding each other from going ahead with the day's schedule.  She said she did not have to go to work the next morning, so we could continue chattering for some more time. I, meanwhile rejected several calls on my other phone line. I knew all that could wait, while we went on rambling for over an hour. She told me how exhausted she usually felt going about with her tight schedule, and how much burning up long distance wires perked her up. My feelings were no different. We exchanged notes about our shared, common past and distinct, unshared present. It all seemed a never ending barter of verbal jottings.

Before long, it was well past midnight for her and she felt the tug of bedtime. I needed to head out as well but the chitchat by then had recreated, revived and stimulated us. We agreed upon catching up again, yet, in our hearts we both knew that wouldn't happen really soon. We're totally caught up in our own lives, so much so, that telephonic exchanges for no specific reason can certainly wait for a more convenient hour. Still, when ever that happens, I'm sure it will inspirit us again.

The confab, however, leads us to believe that sometimes we need to put the ordinary pleasures of life over and above the pertinent. It may appear vain, absurd, crazy and useless, yet being silly and featherbrained for a while with a close friend surely warms the cockles of one's heart. The child in us comes alive and intercepts with the impending wane. Life instantly waxes out, and then getting along becomes so much fun! Even as, I cherish these fond moments, I certainly look forward to more!

(I dedicate this write-up to an old pal who, I have not met with in years.With her impromptu call, this morning, she added a frill to an otherwise cliched day.)

Father's Day - JUNE 19, 2011

It's been one long day for me. Work, kids, daily chores and finally evening descends into night fall. I droop down on the couch and flip through the pages of a periodical publication or gaze at images on the telly trying to make sense of a fanciful flick. As I get enraptured by a momentary fantasy, the background reality is filled with a cacophony of sounds created by the voices of a blossoming teen bullying a younger, not yet a teen, sibling. It's a nonsensical bawl, squall, shriek,clamor and laughter that do not mean much beyond that of a pad echoing with the voices of growing up children, venting their brimming, upbeat energy levels. Suddenly the doorbell rings and before I can even think of getting up to answer that, my ten year old is already there giving a tight hug to the man she fondly calls 'Papa'.

Once Papa settles down on the sofa he's deluged with stories of the day. Stories of school, bus, friends, teachers and even the level attained in Pet Society are continuously drumming his ears. And then there are stories of the latest electronic gadgets and cyber games in store. There's a constant discussion between a dude and a dad where the former relentlessly tries to get the latter into agreeing to buying him the latest PS3 game. I happily sit back and watch the trio locked in a space where nothing around matters to them a tad bit. They are at the nucleus of a world that thrives on this very space, a space where a dad is robbed of his personal space. A space where a man feels like heaven after a long day of being away from the precious extensions of his life. And a space where two evolving lives seek the reassuring warmth and closeness of their friend, philosopher, guide and mentor.

I announce dinner. As the family, gathers around the table and each one hungrily chomps down on the dish of the day, Chicken Biryani it is, my heart knows a warm pleasure as there are outcries of 'Wow!' No one cares to discern what the Biryani is doing at the table when every other day it's a simpler menu. The cards and hugs that have been given to pa at the start of the day seem to have settled in and remained somewhere in the resting zone. In a little while from now we'll have called it a day, but no one yet cares to find out why Biryani tonight, even as they savour every mouthful they ingest. I finally feel the urge to speak out in honour of the man who is the reason for this blessedness. I declare, it's a Father's Day gala tonight. Spoons are forthwith laid on plates and as there is an instant uproar of cheer, I see a relaxed, smug smile below the bushy moustaches of a man who's gifted nothing but happiness to this family.

It isn't a sudden realization that we've developed about ourselves but have been perpetually aware of something that is perhaps taken for granted in every day living. We all know we are here because of him. But not every day we express these feelings of adoration. So, this is the day when the world gives dads their hallmark moment and a man in every home deservedly feels he is as indispensable as the woman who was recently showered with Mother's Day greetings, in his turf.The mother in me fondly experiences the unmistakable contentment of being created by a man who's an able father.

He hugs his children once again at bedtime, and as he puts out the lights in their room, I recall the moments that have gone into the making of a great dad . And I wistfully remember my own dad, who lives in a distant land, and is undeniably endowed with the same capacity to love, not just two but three children all who have flown the nest. There's no one there to give him a hug today, though we are all living in our happy homes, reasons enough for him to be happy even as he is getting along in years. The lights go out in my room, and I sink into a long night of dreams about the two most incredible men in my life who have made a beautiful woman out of me. To them, I wish a happy Father's Day, on this day and always!

             Father's Day

Mom and I are just not enough, it's Dad who brightens up our dark pathways. Let's give dads their hallmark moment....Wishing a grand Father's Day to all !

Mother's Day

Long live, Mother

I yearn to visit the land of summers

Where the air is clement

And the sun, unceasing bright

Where there are blossoms of life

Intense and bright, warm and tight

Is that an Atlantis?

A flight of imagination?

Or, the fairylands?

Not until I bade adieu to your arms

Did fantasy turn a fore time reality?

Where the choicest blossom

Was your love, a luminous hue

 An elixir nurturing lives

And brought forth a floret

That blooms alike its creator.

A self-akin that tassels out

The love that came its way,

Kindles a flame alike, warm n bright

Who else, but I, a mother myself

Radiates the warmth once absorbed.

Creators and creations beat the drum,

Feast and fete devotedly this Mother's Day

When, to you, sweet Mother

I solemnly offer a bounty of love

Not seared by distance, nor blurred by time

As I seal my words with love

And splash the red of Carnations

All I avow at the end of the rainbow

Long live, dear Mom

I'll never let you go!

When Beauty Vexes Beast

(A he-man account of spousal familiarity)

I kicked off celibacy only to realize that clearing the clogged shower is a ritual that I shall have to live with for the rest of my life. The shower drain, wordlessly, almost as still as a mouse awaits my ingress after she’s reviled it with her follicular strands of myriad hues. I had known fringes and locks to exist in shades of black or brown and perhaps grey if she were older, but she’s introduced me to colours, the names of which I’ve never learnt at the nursery school - brunette, auburn and burgundy. Whew! There’s a lot to attain as I go on, staggeringly, tediously!

Well, well, just when I plonk myself on the couch and cruise channels on the telly while hungrily previsioning a sizeable meal, she declares with vehemence that she’s in no mood to fix the feed. With not enough options, I take her out to a close-at-hand joint for a decent meal in order to assuage my already rumbling tummy. Half way through the chow down she declares she is stuffed. And I’ve barely eaten! To round off a full course meal, I order a tiramisu pudding, just one, for she is already full. The sight of the arrival warms me generously to offer to her a spoonful to sample. And there she goes, not one, not two, but several spoons until I realize that it is I who has done the sampling. I do solemnly admit that life, for the likes of me, comes in bite sized bits, and we have to contend with that.

We decide to head off on a holiday, and I come back home the evening before with my car all tuned for the week-long run. As I walk into our ‘abode’ I’m awakened to the shocking revelation that my partner has exhausted her brimming wardrobe and awaits a shopping trip to revamp the same, and all this before we pack off on our venture. I suggest with the deepest sigh ever, that a few casuals, in case she disdains the idea of being pictured in the same ones in different snapshots, would rightly do the job. She instinctively refuses. I, who am constantly working on ideas to reach an accord, suggest that we could indulge in a bit of shopping at a newer outlet in the new place. The idea is met with an acceptance and is already being looked forward to with an earnestness you cannot fathom. Boy! How easily I learn that in pursuit of harmony, I shall have to be my salvager.

Yes, destination signed in, I propose to take her to the Mediterranean restaurant which promises an distinctive platter of indulgence. Dolly’s evidently vexed with the excursion that was solely intended to be a joyride for her. All she pronounces is, “Whatever, I’m okay with anything!’’ And now when the ‘shawarma’ comes with a ‘tahini’ that does not befriend her taut palate, pop comes the retort, “You know how SICK I’ve grown of the same old falafel and shawarma, we’d rather gone for Chinese!!” Ugh! When did she tell me that?

And now as I flop myself down on the hotel bed, enormously tired of the day’s expedition, she stands right there in the middle of the room, cross-examining every piece of furniture with a roving eye and finally blurts, “Could we check out the other rooms, as well? This one doesn’t seem to offer such a magnificent view.” God! Why don’t you just hit the sack? You badly need cool off!

Our tastes do never converge on our choice of books. But as I sit down with the fat thriller I have been intending reading for days, she at once grabs it, gormandizes it for a week and once finished she throws it away in a nook only to declare, “What rubbish!”

She’s ALWAYS there offering an assessment on almost anything and everything that meets her eyes and ears. Gosh! Does she ever realize what a slob she appears with her presumptions and unwanted sentiments? And inadvertently if I ever disclose the unfounded, unwarranted, I’m subjected to a judiciary which perhaps surpasses the strictest courts of justice!!

I did have the license to do what I wanted yet I abandoned all that for an association that promised a harmony in its being. And now as I sail through the choppy waters of an alliance that can be felt only upon taking the plunge, I do hope for a small bit of fair weather. Someday I hope to be accepted for not being a mind reader, and I choose not to be spoken in hints but clear words preferably a trite ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Whenever I am glued to my favourite soccer match on television, I would like to be spoken to only during commercial breaks. And, please do not get your antennas up each time my cell phone rings,after all it doesn't always pay to be such a store-house of knowledge. When we have to go out, I should not be subjected to the torture of having to approve of your outfit. You can wear almost anything and everything that pleases you. And if you are a butterball, do accept, my words will not reduce your size. Also, do not gnarl when I look at that hot chick in micro minis. Have eyes, will see! AND most importantly, I should not be expected to reveal any more than what meets the eye!

After all, life is tough, let's keep things simple - you and I.....

Pipe Dreams

I have always held on to the indisputable truism about the horrors of smoking. Not that it sees me disgusted, yet it always is a pressing concern to see a loved one blow it all up in smoke. The ash gray trails have, of course, never sniffed into me the desire to hold the white paper roll between my lips. Nonetheless, as the years roll by with an uninterrupted ease, and my biological clock ticks on with an untiring dynamism, my big eyed self  curiously desires to take a peek under the bonnet of experiences that I've never burrowed into. A passion for casual, harmless fun arises at moments when I feel strongly that this is the only life I’m going to have, so why not try the untested. There’s a tingling delight involved in sampling something that suddenly impresses.

I live in the Middle East, a region popular among smokers for its hubbly bubbly, something that in native terminology is 'shisha'. It is an oriental tobacco pipe that has a long, flexible tube connected to a container. The flavoured tobacco inside, is smoked using charcoal and the smoke is cooled by passing through water. The Mid Easterners spend hours on gurgling through the pipe and blowing out thick gray smoke. Oral fixations and armchair psychology aside, it is all about flavours- cocoa, apple, vanilla, roasted, aged, creamy, cedar, nutty, pine, fruity and so much more. Hookah smokers can wax eloquent about moods and the corresponding flavours.

All the while, the uncanny desire in me to experience novelty and sometimes the oddball, has been growing. So the other day as I went to dine at a luxurious Downtown Dubai restaurant with some close friends, one of them asked for hubbly bubbly to be laid out. The order barely invited my attentiveness, and I continued to admire the towering Burj Khalifa as it stood majestically before us, spectacularly lit up in all its glory. A towering representation of human achievement, it ignites in me the passion to scale unknown heights, each time I see it up close.

This was to be my first brush with hubbly bubbly or the hookah. Within minutes, the unmistakable aroma of scented tobacco wafted towards us, and I turned to take a look at the glass object that held charcoal, water and flavoured tobacco, in a professedly delectable unison. My friend promptly pulled it closer to herself, held the pipe and with an apparent dexterity, fixed a changeable nozzle to its mouth and took a long suck at it. The liquid inside gurgled audibly enough to invite my attention that had by now travelled back to the Burj. I watched with an utter curiosity as she continued to suck, bubble and finally let out a long trail of thick smoke through her nose. I felt a sudden urge to replicate the process, especially of letting smoke out through the nose. As I looked on with dropped jaws, she glanced at me and perhaps sensing my visible curiosity, gently pushed the object towards me, asking me to try it out. I, a distinct, non smoker, instinctively refused, but in a flash of a moment, an inner voice protested to follow. Who knew if the moment would  come up ever again ! The remarkable spirit and desire for fun that we carry within ourselves gave me  the authority to go ahead. With an extemporaneous fillip, I pulled the hookah closer, changed the used nozzle, and took a whack at it. I sucked hard, taking care not to let the smoke charge into my lungs. However, to a nonsmoker the horrific dismay of holding smoke in the mouth, and keeping it from entering the unacquainted trachea and lungs was by far greater than the thrill of holding the pipe in hand. I found myself blown with consternation! However, assuring glances from friends around helped me regain composure and prompted me to take it sportingly. Consequently, with an assuming, deliberate grandeur, I released the captive smoke through the nose. It was certainly a staggered first shot but getting it right was both a joy and a challenge.

I quite mastered the skill in successive takes and made greater efforts to blow the water into the device as loud as I could do. Like a promising learner, I mastered the craft in just a few takes. It began to fascinate me, and soon I felt totally swamped in the rip roaring enchantment of the moment. What an experience it was.

The cameras went into instant action and my friends roared “more, more” in order to freeze the moment on their devices with finesse. A euphoric me gracefully obliged. The inviting aroma of apple infusion filled the air although I was much flabbergast to get a smack of it, but in the given moment, fantasy soared high. Each puff that I blew, was an attempt to push the smoke higher, probably higher than the Burj, if I could have managed that. I felt thoroughly uplifted in the bubble of the juncture.

The vile, disgusting habit that has undeniable health risk did not bother me a tad bit. All that I sensed was, a bizarre sense of ecstasy in having tried something that I had never fancied . Dinner arrived, and I ate but was distracted to relish the food.  Being done with  the final course we got up to roll back home. My mind was aglow with the buoyancy of an experience that would perhaps never repeat.

Being a non smoker, I probably wouldn't be tempted to do the hubbly bubbly again. The vanilla or the chocolate will never lure me. Agree that they are great flavours to go by, but would I want to blow it up all in smoke? However, the reek of burnt tobacco that remains notoriously on carpets, drapes, dermis and hair, has clung on to my clothes. Weeks later as I write this piece, I have not yet refreshed the outfit I had worn that evening. I guess I shall embrace the inglorious odour as a memento, and long after all of that fizzles out, I shall continue to savour enduring memories of a piquant evening spent with spirited friends ! After all, I can now rightly endorse, ‘A bipolar world with the hookah and Turkish coffee versus hamburgers and Coca Cola’.

Ruminations...

Our hearts always go out to a fab speaker , but could we ever miss out on an intent listener who can hear us?

I Grew

I tasted life as it came
Big things happened in my small world
They showed me the enormous world around
I was overwhelmed by its enormity
And wanted to hold on to all things immense and itsy
To make my own world brimming

I held on to some rather firmly
Hoping that it'd stay
Taking care not to ail it with my strong grasp
It stayed on to bring in me the change
It shaped me, it prepared me
I felt ample in my modest world

But lo
I wasn't firm enough to hold on to
Every thing mighty that came my way
I could feel it slipping
And much as I wanted it to stay
It chose to say goodbye


I was aghast
I threw my arms around
But it had travelled beyond my fold
I felt sore
And longed for it to come back
Yet it rode on the wings of time
Never to  revisit

I clung on to the feeling it had gotten me used to
I felt my world shrinking
But could not allow myself to dwindle
I strived to keep myself afloat
And let the storm pass
I looked forward
And aspired for brighter tomorrows
For I believed that a single storm could not sink my raft

Behold
I smiled and my mien shone through the cloud
It was bright enough to radiate through the cloudy spell
As I endured and survived
I thrust myself forward to catch some sunshine

And in my journey learnt
That what is not mine
Was perhaps not meant for me
Or I did not strive for it
But I did work for what I have with me today

I felt copious once more
To arise in  my own small world
And felt gigantic to dwarf the colossal world
I learnt that to tower upon
I first needed to make myself one
And if I could allow you to rest your tired self upon me
My purpose in life lay fulfilled

Life is small
But I have emerged
In an immeasurable  world
I see a petty me soaring higher....

The Muted Word

An expression is a written word that forms a part of the language that exists on paper, inscribed in ink. It can be calligraphed and worded to please the eye. Whether it has an existence in the soul, is not prime. It is a vision that eyes can see and a sound that ears can hear. The written word has an optical effect and is thus a spectacle to behold. It is an inscription that can be erased and rewritten, and this is what we call language.

Yet, there is an unwritten that fails to be expressed, that fails to be inscribed in the cognizable world of pen and paper. It is an intangible embodiment of the unspoken that dwells beyond its mortal existence. It is the voice that connects those who remain separated in time and space, utter a different word, yet speak a common language that unites them in what is called the language of the soul. They share a fundamental truth that seeks a depiction not in substance but presence, in a world that can be felt though not seen. This unwritten word 'speaks' a language that cannot be voiced, but is inscribed in the spirit of eternity. Sadly there are a few who can hear this language.....

The Self Seeker

In all my doings there can be no better critic of me than ME,myself....
My true being is the spotless mirror that I see myself in
If I am right, I value myself
My self worth is my moment of pride
My achievements showcase my abilities

When I err, I see myself  more human
In acquiescence, I see beyond myself
In vindication, I am empowered to uphold my beliefs
In kindness, I find my inner warmth so much to bear
That I share it with one who carries it not as a load but
as a treasure to be forever cherished

When I appear beautiful, I yearn 
To take the beholder on a journey into my soul
In love, I see his footprints on my soul
I let him be himself  but I am never,ever the same
When I hear music, I taste the food of love and play on

When I live a priceless moment, I encase it in my treasure chest
My treasure glows in the dark and 
I see a ray of light in my hour of despondency
I get up to ward off darkness with an inner thrust
only because I believe in myself

And now I see darkness as a precursor to a new day
That beckons me to move on
I strive to make the most of it
In my onward march I exist for myself
That supports lives that live apart from me, yet within me
Their joy is my wealth

I endeavour to nurture patience and forbearance
and weed out contempt and vice
With these in my stride
I am forever a seeker
My quest remains happiness
That flits just as I embark upon one...

20/10/2010

Even as 10/10/10 passes into the memory bank of the 2nd millenium and many reminisce about the blissful perfect 10,  here comes yet another day beaming with its unique occurrence of numbers...20/10/2010. Once again a glorious day to remember without the glories attached to it!

Paulo Coelho

Paulo Coelho: "Don’t think it can’t happen, because it can.//No pienses que no puede suceder, porque puede."


Ruby Sahay: Everything can happen, for nothing at all is impossible. But is it correct or rather ethical for certain things to happen? There is always a right time for the right thing to happen... whatever goes beyond should not have happened at all.

Paulo Coelho

Paulo Coelho: A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative ofthe brave.

Ruby Sahay: Very true! Often the exhibition of love is a highly calculated affair. Unlike love itself which just happens naturally and remains unconditional,it's expression is often very challenging . The fight and the actual test of love lies in it's expression and not in the experience.

Paulo Coelho

Paulo Coelho: "Enjoy the questions and forget the answers."
Ruby Sahay: Questions remain unchanged,it's the answers that travel with time. It is for this reason that one looks for answers and the same question weighs lighter when the answer to it carries weight. Moreover, while question remains objective, answers go subjective. The lessons of life are learnt from the answers and not the questions that ask.

Paulo Coelho

Paulo Coelho Each man has a feminine side, and each woman has a masculine side. It is necessary to use discipline with intuition, and to use intuition objectively.









Ruby Sahay One does realise the importance of discipline in life. However, it is interesting to note that intuition too needs to be disciplined. Such an intuition perhaps arises from doubt, fear or despondency. But does it remain intuition at all? The human mind is capable of suppressing love, fear, anger and doubt. Does it ever learn to recognise intuition? For if it were so, nothing much could ever go wrong!

In 'The Alchemist' you have most rightly said "Because people become fascinated with pictures and words, and wind up forgetting the Language of the World"...Doesn't the 'Language of the World' come from intuition? This universlal language is never taught, it comes from within, it dwells in your soul.

Ruminations...16th June 2010

Life's Antithesis....


You stumble once, and they say there's a next time. Yet, certain knockings are heard just once. Youneed to answer them right for there may never be a next time.

Moments come and go, but impressions last forever, sometimes to create, sometimes to resurface as memories. Yet, it is in the moment that one lives, and some of the fondest moments in our lives appear in a flash, but leave their glow forever. We may not grow by them but treasure them to brighten up our darkest hours.

Darkness is transient, and as we strive to emancipate, the need for restraint is greater. Any liberation is valued when it exists within bounds. Thus, with every sovereignty there comes a defined set of steps. There is the world to forge in but the goal is marked, and the paths are chalked.

.........further on, there lies a mirage. The oasis is right around you. The need is to discover, cultivate and flourish.

Ah......!! It's She Again

My husband and I shared a wonderful companionship until she came and tainted it with her dreaded omnipresence. During the years of blissful togetherness that we once lived, I had every reason to believe that I mattered to him above everything else. But now, as unpleasant as it gets, for no fault of mine, I have come to realise that if there’s anything that captures his attention, no matter where he is, it is she and she alone. Her ubiquity truly exasperates me.

Much as I despise her, she has successfully managed to intrude upon our sacred space and contaminate our lives that once thrived on spending quality time with each other. It all started with networking and the innumerable contacts one establishes at work and beyond. It was his work that introduced my workaholic husband to her and since then things have never been the same. Much to my grief and disappointment, he and she are now inseparable.

I notice in him the deep urge to connect with her the moment he leaves his bed in the morning. Often when he returns home after a long day at work, I greet him with the warmest hug and she invariably pings him at such times. He, then conveniently crawls to the quietest corner of the house and talks tirelessly with her while I grudgingly attend to the ritual of preparing a strong coffee for him. My deep, hidden desires have often been to pour the steaming liquid on her gleaming body, but I don’t think I shall ever get myself to do that and even if I do , that’ll be the end of my wifely status.

Even the kids, whom he dotes upon, do not dare to go to their dad when he’s with her. Now, I rarely receive his undivided attention, yet whenever I ever do, I try talking to him about his distraction but it is a vain effort and he often gags me retorting sharply that she is his lifeline. His words evoke in me a devilish urge to hurl her down the 25th floor of the building that I live on.

Things have now become so blatant that even at public gatherings and parties, he holds her gently, protectively, and audaciously moves with her to a remote corner whispering softly into her ear, oblivious of the crowd. Matters have taken a plunge ever since I’ve discovered her on our bed a few times.

In the ensuing lamentation , I have managed to put up a brave front and haven’t ever spoken about her even to my closest friends. Any advice from them will be obviously  to ignore her and keep myself engaged more and more in my own work. Yet, each time I see her petite frame in her resplendent black garb and shiny black jacket, the agony is too much to bear.

However, after much introspection, I have now come to accept the fact that she and I have to coexist. She is as much a part of my husband’s life as I am. For, though I am his life partner, it is she who holds his world together. I also know that he cannot do without either of us. Yet, folks if you have any suggestions or advice on helping me getting less vexed in her presence, do let me know. She, Ms Blackberry, the small, black, minuscule gadget that brings the world to him, anytime, anywhere, at the click of a button has surely infringed upon mine, that I share with the man who still means the world to me.

Technologically dejected
Painfully yours…….

Speckles of PWC on Facebook

Almost two decades ago when Patna Women's College celebrated its golden jubilee, I grabbed the opportunity to pen down a memoir of my stay in the hallowed precincts of my alma mater. The write-up along with numerous others, that spoke of the veritable place the college had earned in imparting education to women, found its way into ' Souvenir' the college magazine. Very soon I made my adieus to the glorious portal of this magnificent edifice. Little did I realise, that the advent of the internet which had then just begun in our country, would one day rekindle a few connections that seemed to be getting obliterated at that point of time, and would perhaps give me an opportunity to pour down my retrospection of some of the most splendid moments of my life.

As a member of the group PWC'91, I catch but just a glimpse of this wonderful piece of architecture on my page and reminiscence all that went on to edify an exuberant teenager into an entity that today manoeuvres the labyrinth of the huge, wide world with grit.

Visuals roll out in mind's eye as I go down memory lane. Anuradha Sinha (Sahay) and Anuradha Bajpai (Upadhya) walk into the Economics class bleary eyed, in flip flops, clutching their notebooks. Being boarders and living just a floor above the classrooms, they enjoy the privilege of taking power naps to endure a fifty minute session ahead. Sharing the seat with them is Bashishtha Banerjee (Bhatacharjee), turned almost a zombie, taking down each word of what Mrs Kumudini Sinha rattles out on the ' Marxian Theory '.Class over and our dear Bash is back to her cheery self spreading her infectious laughter all around.

A year on as we gather in room no 10 for a poetry session in English Literature, the gloom brought in by Alfred Lord Tennyson's verses is thankfully broken by Aradhadha (Pradhan) Prasad's pop-ups. Our fair lady can rightly enliven humdrum sessions with her own artistic sensibilities. Sharing the stage with Aradhana is Tanuja Shankar whose humorous and witty repertoire succeed in flipping composures into smiles, grins and laughter.

Outside the classroom, you are often greeted by Neeti Sahay's graceful smile. Priya (Jaipuriar)Roopshree's cool and sober looks affirm a budding psychologist. Aradhana Lal (Verma) strikes you with her beauty and poise, and how can you miss out Udita Sharan's magnetic charm or Jaya Singh's grace and dignity and the captivating chat sessions that one enjoys with her. The ever bubbly and voluble Rita Bose (Sinha) is loved by one and all. The highlights of the batch are Anvita Sharma (Singh) and Vijaya Singh with their bold, vivacious selves; the typically outgoing types.

Time runs its course and the girls soon graduate out of college carrying dreams of a brighter tomorrow and of course, the secret desire of meeting their own Prince Charming. The kaleidoscope of images that appear in a series of flashback, soon disappear. The present has taken over where these young girls have transformed into mature women. Relationship status has changed for all. There are several add ons. Priorities have changed, and each one has moved on with her life. Yet each woman has brightened up her respective domain with her virtues and radiance.

Today I sit in my cosy home that resonates with the voice of my teenage son and the squeals and laughter of my babydoll. As I share this warmth, I relive the peals of unsuppresable laughter that brought to life the otherwise cold room numbers 18, 10, 8 to name a few, at PWC, when we laughed loudly enough to be warned every now and then about the din that was consequently created.

I smile wistfully and realise that I shall have to be reborn to be a party to the laughter that even today fills up the cafeteria, common room and corridors of PWC, sans my own among them.

We have now moved to various places across the globe. It has probably been decades since we last interacted, but social networking in the virtual world has reunited us all. As we cruise the internet, the joys of chatting online with one another or clicking on to view pictures of the new families, is inexplicable. As the years have gone by, we've grown older, wiser, and a lot has changed....What remains unchanged is the spirit of friendship, the only factor to have grown younger or perhaps vibrant amidst the change. Eighteen years on, as I get to send birthday wishes to someone I hadn't forgotten altogether, yet hadn't ever hoped to meet, how can I stop myself from thanking Facebook for this delightful reunion.... We can march on, not just with memories but connectivity, as well !

Stupid Cupid

I do not remember been ever given a piece of jewellery by my husband on Valentine’s Day. He has perhaps not done the most preferred things that a man would usually do on this day. Probably, it must have been something unspectacular years ago, but nothing so razzle-dazzle that I can  recall. Yes, I have often texted amorous messages and given to him a 'few' romantic cards, and a text message or a card in return is what makes my day. However, what brings me to write this piece is my response to the glow that surrounds the market place with Valentine’s Day almost there. The day is so starkly marked with the exchange of valuable gifts, amazing dinners out and romantic breaks enjoyed by couples at exotic resorts. The hefty price one has to pay to express such a compassionate and poignant emotion, truly amazes me.

Well, I’m one of those who believe that neither does love needs a specific day to be expressed, nor does this fundamental emotion requires the almighty dollar to be at its aid. Blessed are those who can recognize the depth of the endearment in all its ingenuity, unpolished and unmixed form.  An effortless,  matter-of -course and spontaneous emotion that can  be expressed through mere words and deeds seeks validation in commercial terms? Well, I find it difficult to stomach that, or has the language of love undergone a transformation?

When I found my significant other, I realised I was growing each day in a relationship  that needed constant expression. I learnt that 14th February was yet another day to express one’s fondest emotions and to spend time with each other to celebrate one’s togetherness. Exchanging cards on this day has always seemed quite romantic to me. Going back to my younger days, I remember admiring love cards in card galleries and floating into fantasy land pondering over those lovey-dovey, syrupy messages. Nonetheless, today as I see hotels and restaurants announce attractive deals and exciting packages to woo potential Valentines, I find myself at odds with the commercialisation that surrounds the spirit of love. Would a bling ever bring to one the warmth that comes with chatting endlessly with each other over a cup of coffee? Think of it!

Having been fervidly in love all these years, the insight to discern emotions from riches grows sharper with every passing year. Without sounding cynical at all and with due regards to all out there whose studs or bracelets bear the hallmark of Valentines Day, I find myself a misfit in the ring that entwines ‘cupid and coins’. I often wonder if it is my years of togetherness with my mate that makes me so impassive to merchantry and business that surrounds Valentine’s Day in modern times. On analysis, however, I realize that it is the pansophy that comes with age and, that makes for a clearer discernment. Now I can specifically say that  while money can never be a yardstick for love that grows with time, yet it certainly allows one the plenitude and profusion that helps one celebrate life. And if you love life, you  nurture it with love alone.

However, today, in the sixteenth year of a wonderful wedlock, I do look forward to what Valentine’s Day has in store for me. A bouquet of red roses, a card, a text message or a delightful e-card with a personalized message, anything that substantiates his desire to be by my side. Can this ever be replaced with a pair of impersonal diamond studs or a glittering bracelet?

Ruminations 15th March

Bread, utterly simple and ubiquitous, dipped in a batter of eggs, seasoned with salt and pepper and fried  to satisfy the most ordinary tastebuds, makes for a delectable snack.
How similar is life....simplicity and modesty dipped in humour, seasoned with good temper and conditioned to love almost anything that lives. Doesn't that make for a wonderful persona ?

Of Minds And Motifs

My boy, all of twelve years, came back from a birthday party and showed me his return gift with a befitting delight. I exhibited an equally fervid inquisitiveness to witness what my little one undid so impatiently. “Wow, Mom, it’s a chain with a lovely pendant. Shall I wear it right away?” Wide eyed, I glanced at the thing that gleamed, as it swung on suspension between his thumb and index finger. My own tastes and preferences, never allowed me to acknowledge the need for boys, as young as twelve, to be accessorized with anything that could pass off for jewellery. However, I winked at what lay before me, for it was a gift given out so fondly by the birthday boy himself. As my boy expressed the desire of sporting the chain, I intuitively took it from him and examined the pendant before giving my consent. My lad, still in his pre teens waited for my response, resentfully, however. A steel chain with a pendant that displayed a skull and cross bones nestled in the cup of my palm. I looked at the piece of adornment with horror and distaste and cringed at the thought of my bundle of joy wearing something that symbolized not life or anything analogous with it, but its distinct opposite. I succeeded in dissuading him from wearing it, but because it was a memento from a friend given on a day that he celebrated life, I allowed him to keep it in his treasure chest.

I knew exceedingly well that the image warned of danger, and wherever one saw it, one would steer clear of the area or the object that bore the hallmark. Yet, to me, it meant something greater than danger, it meant ‘death’. The symbol displayed on bottles of poison or electric boxes containing high voltage does certainly mean death of life.

Though I do not restrict myself with superstitions, dogmas and taboos, yet I am immensely taken in by the slightest images and objects that appear to be suggestive of larger details and ideas. While flowers are emblematic of happiness and red roses of love and passion, children symbolize hope and the rising sun stands for life, growth and prosperity. Similarly, owls and bats being nocturnal, typify sinister images and skulls and cross bones become equally insalubrious. This is most rightly why I never agree to possess an item of personal use that bears the mark of skull and bones. Much to his chagrin, my little boy, has discovered my disregard for anything and everything that bears this image of danger and death. To him and to all others, the figure perhaps stands for nothing more than, ‘Danger! Keep off '. Seeing it on an outfit will probably distract them to think that getting anywhere closer to the user would perhaps be disastrous. That is it. They would not comprehend any more. I guess I’m the oddball !!

Even though, we change and outgrow certain beliefs and notions, I have somehow felt incapacitated in abhorring morbid images and those that suggest negativity in any form, especially on items of clothing and personal use. Recently on a shopping trip, I agreed upon buying my son a pair of ash grey long shorts with black prints all over. I was happy to see him drool over something that looked ‘cool’. At the store, I did not quite notice the prints, but a closer look at home revealed the same skull and cross bones imprinted all over the garment. Unsettling, as it was for me, this time I prepared myself to look over, as the characters did not seem particularly striking. Besides, my boy would, in no way agree to return or change his choicest pick. I realised I had to interpret the figures differently from what theywere. As I tried doing so, after the distasteful discovery, they appeared a pattern that made little sense, but to my relief succeeded in giving up their morbidity for something abstract.

The week later as I shopped for tops, I fell in love with a black one that seemed to be tailor made for me. I showed it to my husband, my companion on the trip, with utmost glee. He liked it as much. As I tried the garment that fitted me to a T, I cast an enthused glance at the sole motif that embellished the front of the dress. I looked into the mirror in the trial room, but to my shock and dismay, noticed the same skull and cross bones that glared at me, as I adjusted the top, to have a better view of the motif. This time the character appeared all the more devilish as it lay encrusted in lustrous white stones on a black surface. I hastily changed back into my own T-shirt and wondered if at all I could pick up the piece that required me to display an image of death.

Meanwhile, I held on to my selection as I looked for other pieces in the store, but nothing whatsoever could convince me to acquire something that bore an image which seemed incongruous with the beauty and harmony that life meant to me. The smooth texture of the fabric, the cut and drape, ensnared me enough to consider the clothing a valuable addition to my wardrobe, but the motif succeeded in bringing about my disparagement for the same.

I decided against taking it, ultimately announcing my decision to my husband, about the item that had instantly elicited a ‘go for it’ from both of us the moment we had seen it. The reason clearly amused my husband in an odd, quaint way who did not wish to interfere with my decision.

I left the beautiful black garment on the billing counter, and as we left the store with our bag full of other purchases, I turned around to look at the black top for one last time. A young woman with a baby clinging to her bosom picked up the piece and looked at it approvingly. I’m sure she valued life as much as I did, and loved the little life that clung to her, in the same measure that I loved my boy. As she got the piece billed and left the store within minutes, I wondered what differentiated my perception from hers. Probably it all lay in one's mind, for what seemed rightly repugnant and ominous to me perhaps appeared promising and positive to her. Probably it amused her to think of the fact that she would effervesce a 'drop dead gorgeous' look in the outfit. Funnily enough, with the hostile adornment she could also ward off unwanted attention !

I am convinced that an image casts an impression in the mind, and vision and discernment travel from the eyes to the minds that read the concept.