Take my breath away

The hidden hummer

Retiring after a long day’s work is one of the things we all look forward to. You lazily tick the items off of your checklist – dinner, dishes, water bottle for the night’s thirst pangs, doors and windows shut tight and finally a bed well made that has been waiting for you to dive in to. Checking the last item off - the lights - with an inexplicable sense of satisfaction and snuggling comfortably in to your bed that’s been calling out to you with so much desire since the past hour, you couldn’t imagine doing anything else but tucking yourself in to those freshly laundered sheets and drifting off effortlessly in to a peaceful world where you are hoping to the good Lord that sandman doesn’t show up.

It’s all going on just as planned -  you are sinking in to the softness of your pillow – the bearer of ecstasy, the holder of the head that’s been beaten, bruised and bellowing from the inside, finding the right spot, the right angle and position and then it happens, you are in between two worlds, two dimensions, almost reaching out to the depth of your sleep, aware yet blissfully not giving a damn about your surroundings – the drowning lights of vehicles passing by, cries of super excited children who are having the time of their lives by not letting their family sleep in peace, the music from a wedding hall nearby, distant honking, fading away slowly in to the dimension that your swirling in to when all of a sudden there’s a quick, sharp, high-pitched hum around the earlobe that somehow was not tucked in to the sheet – not like it would’ve made a difference – and you jolt up in utter disbelief and a heartbreak that could never be repaired, not even with time, unforgivable act of cruelty by that hidden hummer in your room, waiting patiently by your bedside table or probably on the door of your wardrobe or even cleverly, prepared to prey from the ceiling – timing his deep dive almost in to your ear drum, teasing, almost as if mocking to say, ‘Athithi Devo Bhava’ – it’s feeding time, you just hadn’t realized – how selfish, he thinks and he comes in, both wings fluttering, gotta suck me some blood – and whizzes past you once again, deft in his moves, ducking the grab of your hand that’s hopelessly waving out in the darkness – “stupid human - shooting in the dark”, he laughs as he set out a lyrical hum to echo through the room.

Everything is destroyed, the pillows have been turned, the sheets crumpled, the sleep broken, the utter despair you are in – until the moment of enlightenment finally arrives – quite literally with the light turned on – you wait in silence, don’t make a move and just wait for it – you can hear yourself breathing – a little shaken, heady probably woozy from the sudden jolt.

And then the moment arrives – you hear it – all those external noises fade away – feeling almost meditative there for a moment – you are completely aware, you track him, you chase and follow – it’s a high pursuit chase within a 10*10 room and before you know it, your reflexes work in a way that you are astonished in to a state of shock – you open your palm – the hummer has been silenced.

Sweet dreams, blood sucker! You just got yourself preyed!

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!