Defense against the dark(ness) arts

Before you get yourself all tangled up in believing enthusiastically that this has something to do with Harry Potter, let me make it clear by pointing out that this is merely a thought thread which has kept my fear of the dark directly proportional to the figments of my imagination, whose roots are bound quite firmly, intact over my entire life of conscious living and my constant struggle to overcome, overlook and seek beyond the fear and embrace darkness as is.

From a very young age, we all are victims of the dark - even though nothing really happens; Victims not of the dark really, but to the mere fear of it - that which has been instilled in our over cautious brains by our parents from the time we come to our senses.

Over the years, monsters and spirits have haunted me during the times of power failures, lonely nights when I was too little to reach for the light switch, making it absolutely disastrous for a girl with intense imaginations and a brain that works to defend these nonexistent monsters with chanting of mantras to mental martial arts. 

The realization that I finally grew up to overcome my fear was when I could bring myself to a conscious state where I could be rational enough to argue with my fears, move about my house in pitch darkness to accomplish what I set out for - say, a glass of water perhaps. 

With a brain that is constantly waging a war with irrationalities of life, I've come to conclude that there is an absolute beauty in darkness, an inexplicable volume of self awareness in it's silence, an astonishing judgement to our ability in adapting to our surroundings in sudden, random disappearances of light. 

While darkness has so much to offer us, why do we always find ourselves running away from it? Finding absolute peace with the spark that emits from the striking of a tiny match stick, seeking literal warmth from a lean candle, or finding yourself stuck to that part of your house that reflects light from a neighbors' UPS, hanging on to one's mobile phone and knowing 'all izz well' with the light shining from it's tiny screen. Why does one seek safety in light while darkness does no harm whatsoever?

The fear of darkness is hackneyed. It's time for you to turn those lights off and wander off into the realm of a moonless night, conquer it, perhaps?

Wake Me Up, Please!

Dream: A series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind.

Although, by dictionary, this is the real meaning of the word 'dream', in our day to day lives, we have come about to interpret it purely as a beautiful fantasy related with the most merriest of things that brings absolute peace during the period of our sleep. A transition from this image is when we experience a rather tense vision in which one fervently wishes to wake up from, yet feels bound/tied down although the path to freedom lies just about an arm's stretch. It gets very troublesome as we experience pain, tears and every emotion attached to the 'dream'. Mother says that such dreams are in a way freedom from past sins.

I couldn't help but compare this state with the political scenario of our nation. When 'democratic rule' seemed 'dreamy', the transition from King's rule to the 'free India' which we claim to have today makes us all just as desperate for a way out as we do in our sleep.

When I experience such tormenting dreams, my mother with her wake up call seems to be the key to the shut door. When and how will India experience the sheer joy of the same feeling?

Get A Grip!

As a woman on the bus, it's impossible to overlook the fact that you're always going to have one of the following or all (if it's not your day) - your neatly pressed dress ends up crumpled, your shoe/sandal just isn't strong enough from protecting your gentle feet from being crushed under the heel of the other passengers on board, a broken nail, a tear to the edge of your shawl, among others! The inverse proportionality of the female hair to the seat handle on a BMTC bus is one of the highlights - an inevitable yet painful case of hair fall. I've sported all hair-do's: Long, short, single plaited, double pony, double plaited pony, pony tail, high pony, open hair, hair swept to one side falling on a shoulder side, boy cut, etc.. There is no escape from this scary, hair raising (messing) event although you might miss the others by a hair… 

Please Bring Your 'Ward'?

On a trip to my cousin sister, Anandhi's house, one of the streets had '5th Ward' written on the sign board. Her younger son, Krishna, asked her, "Amma, what does ward mean?" to which Anandhi went about telling him about how it indicated a particular constituency/district. A day later, her older son, Prasanna, returns from school with a note that asked for his parents to be present for the PTA meeting along with their 'ward'. You can imagine the fun we had with the questions that came along!

Vedhaanth

Vedhaanth is my nephew; his naming had set my father's creative side to explode with a witty remark on it - "Vedhaanth, where is your 'daanth'?" (tooth, in hindi)… Now that he's a year old, his first few teeth have set him on his experiments with biting, esp. others. He's the smartest tot I've ever come across, and the most lovable on too! I noticed that his biting had gone way beyond the level of tolerance (read pain). One such observation on him rather amused me - every time he put his finger in his mouth, he would make sure that his tiny little fingers get a good massage between his gums while any other finger in his mouth would result in severe damage. The fact that he was able to understand pain on self but found my finger, my sister's shoulder, my mother's legs as 'bite-able' amazed me. Now, we all say, "Vedhaanth, you have way too many daanth!". "Once bitten, ever smitten" - smitten in love, smitten in bite. Teething troubles, oh yeah!

Warm Chills

Chills that warm the Bangalore soul…

The past few summers have been harsh on everyone- this one being the most harsh of all - without a doubt!

In the name of development, our Government is mercilessly depleting our Green cover…each day we reminisce our city by saying "A decade ago, Bangalore was…..look at it now…Unbelievable!"

Hot! Hot! Hot!

As I constantly seem to complain about the weather in Bangalore, one breezy day, I catch myself pulling my sweater out of my closet…Wait a minute, YES! It's finally cold in Bangalore!! What a relief…

As I walk to my yoga class, I feel the wind trying to sweep me off my feet! Could it get any more romantic? I am totally in love with my city all over again…

Rain Riposte!

"Kannada Naadina Jeeva Nadi-Cauvery" (Cauvery is the life giving river of Karnataka)…..goes the song on the radio on a bright Bangalore morning...

The bus driver, rather annoyed at the soaring temperature, snaps back at the radio saying, "How do you expect rivers to flow and be the life to a place, if there aren't any rains?"

This defied the lines of the song that followed, as the disappointed driver looked up to the skies, hoping it would rain and that the rivers would flow in their natural course; so would life....

There're songs about our glorious past and there's everything else that makes you wish you weren't living the life you live today! Every reference, small or mighty, takes us back to a simple yet rich life, rich in terms of happiness, nature and not materialistic richness for which we unreasonably, insensibly crave today.

Everything these days is dry; The only thing that is full - is a controversy - something that we are comfortably drowned in...

P.S: It rained that night :)

Bangalore Showers

Bangalore rains - I just can't complain! 

Pours in when you need it the most- takes away your anguish of the days that have been worst…

Tempting midnight cravings - Bangalore rains - takes away all the pains.

Transitions...

I lay to rest as I try fight off this sharp stinging headache - 'foreheadache', rather - heavily annoying from early evening on a laborious labor day; I generously apply some 'pain relieving' balm, close my eyes, let 'the burn' dissipate along with the other frustrations that gradually found their way in to my already pounding head and as if I lost my physical being, I shift in to a very vague memory of my past - a memory that lead me to the ABC song, the shoehouse story from my kindergarten times and my mother's singing of 'twinkle, twinkle, little star'…The stress suddenly, irrelevantly, seemed to fade away like nothing had ever happened…. maybe its the balm…maybe its the distraction…to me, it's just mother's love from a long time ago that still soothes me.

Twilight!

The sudden mesmerizing splash of colour in the evening sky, that warms up the unexpected soul.

Broken Thoughts...

…and then I stare into my computer, quietly and unknowingly zone off into a world of thoughts that engulf me in my own presence…it takes me until I hit rock bottom to realize that my few minutes of life just passed in front of me, looking blankly at my bright Mac's screen….(cursor blinks)

The Bitter Truth!

A sharp sting through the heart, a skip of the heart beat, the rise of tempers...

Life, bound by it's uncertainties, unfolds to a deep, dark, bitter truth - nothing is constant.