Limerick Mondays

My absolutely favourite form of poetry is the limerick and im so glad i finally found this wonderful blog.
This is my submission for Limerick-Off Mondays at Mad Kane's blog.

A gal who was lovely and fair
With long golden flowing hair,
Was rescued from her tower,
By a prince of great power
Who used her hair as a stair.

Fear

Fear slowly seeps into the house as night falls. I see it in my father’s haunted eyes. He peers out of the windows looking suspiciously at anyone on the road. He goes around the house drawing the curtains and checking the locks again and again..
Its almost a month since the incident which turned our lives upside down, and shattered our complacence. My father was attacked by a knife-wielding man when he returned home, one night. That it happened on our doorstep, was the first shock. Fifteen years of living in peaceful surroundings with hardly another house in sight, had lulled us into a false sense of security. That it happened to my father, a gentle unassuming man, was the second. None of us really expect anything truly terrible to happen to us. Until it does. All those stories - masked men, armed robberies, knives and guns- happen to other people. We spend one moment ‘tsk’ing in sympathy, maybe a few more in ghoulish curiosity, thank god it wasn’t us and move on.
Guilt and fear-that is the unfortunate lot of the victims. Who realize how whole lives can change in a couple of seconds, that they might spend the rest of their lives trying to recover from those few seconds. That what seems an earth shattering event to them, is lowest in priority to the police - an attempted robbery with no loss of life and only a broken door to show.
There are images that play in my mind over and over again. A masked man, his eyes glittering in the light, holding a knife and a hand around my father’s throat, the normally pristine floors covered with blood from my fathers dripping hands, the front door fallen on the floor ripped from its hinges, the screaming and the silence that followed, my son lying quietly on the bed with blood on the floor all around him.
The endless stream of visitors, come bearing fruit, sympathy and suggestions- sell the house, shift to town, get a dog, get a watchman and so on. Things seem better for a few hours. Yet when they leave, fear seeps in again slowly.
Everyday darkness falls and my father, imagining watching eyes from every window, goes around drawing the curtains, imagining that anyone walking on the road is a potential threat, watches carefully out of every window, imagining that masked men can come through the door any minute, checks the locks again and again.

In appreciation of my coffee mug

My contribution for the prompt at Applehouse Poetry Workshop. An appreciation for anordinary thing that we use everyday.

Appreciating the humble coffee mug

Today I want to say something wonderful

About my coffee mug

The first thing I want to see everyday

Steaming in the morning light

I hug its well-rounded contours

Close to my chest and sigh deeply

With pure pleasure

As warmth seeps into me

I take a deep deep breath

Inhale the aroma

Of hot filter coffee

Freshly brewed

The wide handle fits easily into my palm

Encircled by fingers and thumb

The soft pastel colour

Patterned with flowers

Are a welcome sight for sleepy eyes

Every morning

The Next Step

My contribution for this week on Sunday Scribblings

Im always waiting to see

Where the next step will take me

Where I am right now

Dosent really matter somehow

The future is what’s exciting

Alluring, inviting

Will it bring something I've been waiting for so long

A chance to right a wrong

A chance to win the game

A chance to make a name

The next step is waiting for me

If only I could see what it would bring me

Simple Pleasures

1. Waking up late on a sunday morning and not having to hurry to get to office
2. The sunday magazine and coffee in bed
3. The pleasure of a sharp knife cutting into soft fruit
4. A warm fluffy cheese omlette for breakfast
5. A long lazy day to look forward to
5. And best of all - my brand new fiery red scooty awaits below :)))

Welcoming 2010

The past 4 months have been an interesting time for me. I took a decision which I felt had been long overdue, and which most people viewed as risky or downright stupid. I quit a very well paying job in Mumbai to come to Chennai so that we could have the married life that we had missed out for over a year post wedding. We found a house, settled down and had (are still having) such a good time, that the lack of the job didn’t really bother me. Except that is when random people asked me if I had found a job yet, or how I managed to pass the time at home.
I realized that life can actually be stress free and happy, even though I missed the routine of work and going to an office, the camaraderie, I didn’t really feel something significant missing from my life, except moneywise. This was such a big revelation because I had just spent the last one year in Mumbai, working, and doing just that. It had become the central focus in my life around which everything else was arranged. To top this off, it was a job that I hated. Why did I make something I hated the central focus of my life? As do most people I know. Dissatisfied with everything in life. Constantly looking out for something else to do, that may perhaps make our meaningless lives more meaningful.
My mother calls us the ‘spoilt generation’. We have had things too easy so far, not had to struggle for basic necessities like our parents generation, that just any ‘job’ will do. No, it has to interest us, promise us growth in the organization, give us a good boss, and most important of all pay well. Very few, if any jobs that fulfill this criterion and even if they do, we just keep looking for the next big fix.
I think I needed this time, this little break to recoup my life, rearrange my priorities. And now, this seems to be a job I would enjoy, I hope to learn and grow in. I know it will be difficult balancing work and home now. I know that what we have together here is too precious to waste, I am not going to let work dominate my life. I know it wont be as dreamy as life has been these past few months. But the opportunity to stretch is beguiling, I would like to see how I cope. Its going to be an interesting year ahead.

Life and Work

The past 4 months have been an interesting time for me. I took a decision which I felt had been long overdue, and which most people viewed as risky or downright stupid. I quit a very well paying job in Mumbai to come to Chennai so that we could have the married life that we had missed out for over a year post wedding. We found a house, settled down and had (are still having) such a good time, that the lack of the job didn’t really bother me. Except that is when random people asked me if I had found a job yet, or how I managed to pass the time at home.
I realized that life can actually be stress free and happy, even though I missed the routine of work and going to an office, the camaraderie, I didn’t really feel something significant missing from my life, except moneywise. This was such a big revelation because I had just spent the last one year in Mumbai, working, and doing just that. It had become the central focus in my life around which everything else was arranged. To top this off, it was a job that I hated. Why did I make something I hated the central focus of my life? As do most people I know. Dissatisfied with everything in life. Constantly looking out for something else to do, hta tmay perhaps make our meaningless lives more meaningful.
My mother calls us the ‘spoilt generation’. We have had things too easy so far, not had to struggle for basic necessities like our parents generation, that just any ‘job’ will do. No, it has to interest us, promise us growth in the organization, give us a good boss, and most important of all pay well. Very few, if any jobs that fulfill this criterion and even if they do, we just keep looking for the next big fix.
I think I needed this time, this little break to recoup my life, rearrange my priorities. And now, im ready to go. Im sure it wont be work first anymore. I know it wont be as dreamy as life has been these past few months. I hope I get to enjoy that as well.

How I hate housework!!!

Every morning I get up, rub my eyes and think of my day ahead. Sometimes it makes me groan when I have some task I have been putting off for days, a few days it’s exciting when I have something interesting to do or sometimes I’m just nervous when it’s an interview day. Most days though, it seems to be a never ending stream of housework. This, despite having a maid who sweeps, wipes and cleans the dishes and a washing machine to wash the clothes. I know I am luckier than a lot of women who don’t have these luxuries, but that doesn’t make the rest of the work any more interesting– like folding, ironing and putting away clothes, like picking up random clothes and paper off the floor, like dusting all those “cute” little knick-knacks that suddenly don’t seem so cute any more, wiping shelves, cleaning, cleaning, cleaning…
The one thing that I surprisingly seem to enjoy is the cooking. Having been cooking for only a few months, anything I try is new and I try adding something extra or different to every dish I make :). A husband who is willing to experiment too and eat everything I make is definitely a big plus. So I decided to complie a list of simple and easy recipes that had worked wonders for me.
My recipe for this week is an absolutely wonderful chocolate cake that can be made in exactly 5 minutes, adapted from here



5 minute Chocolate Lava Cake

Ingredients
Cake :
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup maida
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
6 tablespoons milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
Stir In :
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1 tablespoon cocoa
1 teaspoon instant coffee powder
2 tablespoons milk

In a microwave-safe cup, stir together all the dry ingredients for the cake first - 1/3 cup granulated sugar, 1/2 cup maida, 1 teaspoon baking powder, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder. Once these are thoroughly mixed, slowly add 6 tablespoons milk, and a teaspoon of vanilla. Stir till smooth
For the liquid chocolate sauce, mix 2 tablespoons brown sugar, 1 tablespoon granulated sugar, 1 tablespoon cocoa, I teaspoon instant coffee powder and 2 tablespoons milk. Pour into the cup with the other ingredients. Gently swirl it in; don’t mix thoroughly.
Cook in the microwave for 2 1/2 to 3 minutes, depending how powerful your microwave is. According to the original recipe, “ When done, it’ll look set on top, and kind of mushy around the edges”. However mine turned out firm around the edge and mushy in the centre after I cooked it for about 2 and ½ minutes. Turn the cake onto a plate and the cake is ready!!! Don’t let it cook for more than 3 minutes because the liquid or the uncooked batter inside spills out and coats the cake in a lovely chocolate sauce

Horrors of a new household

The door swung open and I stepped in a little gingerly, trying to pick my way through the 3 inch layer of dust that seemed to coat every surface. One and a half years after we were married, we were finally going to be living together- here in this messy house that had been locked up for 3 months. I had been well prepared already but it was still difficult not to scream in frustration as I looked at the dirt around me. We plunged right in, armed with brooms and mops and managed to scrub off a little of the dirt.

Prashanth left for office soon with a worried look on his face, imagining me dropping dead from exhaustion, no doubt. I surveyed the disaster area and decided to clean up one room at a time, starting with the bedroom. A morning spent dusting cleaning, mopping and sweeping left me clutching my back. So I entered the kitchen to take a break , but the sight was almost too much to bear. All our pots and pans had become black from salt water and corrosive sea air. It would take me a week to just scrub my way through. It took me three days to finally get the house into some semblance of order.
We were still eating out everyday and my next task was to get the kitchen in order. Amma arrived then, like a godsend and we happily spent the next two days shopping. The prospect of setting up house seemed to send everyone into paroxysms of ecstasy, especially the thought of buying plastic bottles in all shapes and sizes. She painstakingly washed, filled and arranged all of the boxes. The kitchen set up, we started cooking and surprising myself, I enjoyed it. Experimenting was exciting, and as long as I was trying out a new dish everyday, I was happy. Prashanth being appreciative of everything I tried, spurred me on.

I discovered just how demanding a house can be. There’s something to be done everyday – the gas, the telephone, electricity, some pipe leaking, something we forgot to buy – it seems never ending. But its worth it when I just take a look around and think that its my home - a dirty house that somehow transformed itself into a home. Plus a beach that’s a 5 minute walk away more than makes up for any other disadvantages I think :)

Sea

White moonlight traces a path on the restless sea
The waves, silver mirrors as they crash on the shore
Sand stretches smoothly into the distance, unblemished
The sea dances a wild dance tonight and we are its only witnesses

What sudden whim brought us here, this rain-scented night,
While clouds gather on the horizon?
Why does it fascinate, this ceaseless motion?
Rise and fall, fall and rise.

For now, it’s just us and the sea, bound by different spells
Wind and water, power and fury, elements unleashed
Our hopes, our worries, our lives
We forget, as our insignificance stares us in the face

Coming Home

The bus swayed dangerously to one side on its way down, righted itself in time, and rushed forward to take the next curve. The driver, oblivious to the plight of its occupants was intent only on getting down the hill in the fastest possible way. I clutched desperately at the lemon in my hand, tried, failed and proceeded to deposit the contents of my stomach down the sides of the bus. Task accomplished, I sat back and tried not to feel guilty at the frowns from the other passengers. I had done this journey at least fifty times a year and yet had never felt good about it once.Another hour and our ordeal was over as we reached the rolling plains. We still had some distance to cover.
Sindhu and I were so excited, we could barely sit still. Amma predictably fell asleep in the last half an hour of the journey and had to be shaken awake as our destination neared. We got off, vomit-stained and weary.
At last I could see Thatha sitting on his rocking chair on the broad verandah. Ammachi anxiously scanning the road, looking out for us. We were enveloped by people as we reached. Questions, hugs, smiles. It was good to come home.

The sun came out

She looked at herself in the mirror and saw what she had become. Brown eyes dulled by pain, unruly hair that hadn’t been brushed in a while, a tired face. That was exactly how she felt – tired and dull. It had been over a month now and time seemed to have done nothing to erase the pain. She found it easier if she didn’t think about it, in fact if she did not think at all. She spent all her time, curled up on the sofa, gazing out of the window. The weather outside seemed to sympathize. It had rained for most of the time they had been here.
Her parents were worried. It would have bothered her once, the look on their faces. But she shut them out now, like she had shut out everything else. It was exactly 2 months today, to the day she had been married. They both hadn’t been able to stop smiling, their happiness bubbling over. It had been a perfect wedding. They had a whole month together, and he was gone. One more victim in the rising number of accidents, one more statistic. How did it really matter in a population of over a billion?
She was lucky, they said. Lucky not to have been there, lucky to have escaped, lucky not to have witnessed it. What did they really know about luck? Where was meaning now? What did she have to live for? Her life seemed a bleak empty landscape, matching the weather outside. Her parents had brought her back home, away from anxious and well-meaning relatives. Who talked about her in hushed whispers, about poojas and second marriages, the evil eye and bad luck. She seemed not to hear or see. Nothing mattered anymore, really.
Home was the hills, the cold air, the comforting house and memories of childhood. She started going for long walks alone, hoping that physical exhaustion would help shut out the pain. The rest of the time was spent on the sofa hardly eating or sleeping.
Her mother mentioned one day that she had met Shika, who had asked if they could meet. To her own surprise she agreed. The meeting was swiftly arranged before she could change her mind. Shika, with whom she had been inseparable for two years in school. Her closest friend for a long time until work and life had thrown them apart. She wondered what would she say when they met, would they have anything left to say after so many years? She wanted to cancel, but picking up the phone and calling was too much of an effort. It seemed ages since she had last had gone through the motions of any social conversation. Silence had been her only weapon, her only means to cope.
The day dawned, dark and depressing as it had been for the past month. Rain lashed the windows, the road was a muddy river. She couldn’t go in this weather she decided, and felt relief, tinged with a little disappointment. Suddenly by afternoon the rain stopped, the weather cleared. She did not have the energy to make an excuse, she went out to meet her friend.
Shika came and enveloped her in a hug. The mists cleared a little. They went to a little coffee shop, so they could talk, and sip coffee in awkward moments. Suddenly the years seemed to disappear, they talked as if they had never been apart. There was so much to say and so little time to say it. She talked and talked and talked. About her husband, dreams they had had, the wonderful times spent together and how it suddenly vanished in a second. She didn’t know how precious it had been till it had disappeared. Shika merely nodded. Listened and held her hand through the tears.
It was finally time to leave, and they walked out together into the sunshine. The sun had come out so that the 2 friends could meet.

Adulthood

I took a step towards adulthood today
Some childish innocence slipped away
A little less noise
A little more poise
Though maturity is still plodding on its way

An Ode to Positivity

Oh Positivity! Where were you, in times of misery,
When only cold winds of anger and self-pity surrounded me?
Why do you appear only in bursts of sunshine,
When all seems well with the world?

Oh Fair weather friend! What are the charms that
Authors of self help books have seen in your eyes?
Will you not reveal to me, the 'Secrets' of the universe?
Or show me the ways to 'think and grow rich'?

Would you please stay? Would you make me realise
That the glass is really half full, that the pit i am in
Could have been deeper and bleaker,
That the darkest hour of night is just before dawn sets in?

Oh Positivity, my friend! Where art thou?

Holes

Holes in the ground, I wish I could disappear into
They never appear when I want them to
People knocking, asking for things i dont wanna give
Wish I could learn just how to live

Rabbit holes transport you to wonderland
Will I find mine close at hand?
Coz I just wanna run far far away
Find a hole that would be my hideaway

Holes in my heart, I've shed many a tear
People in my life appear and disappear
Angry words, hurt and disappointment
Wish they would go away somewhere permanent

Rabbit holes transport you to wonderland
Will I find mine close at hand?
I just wanna run far far away
Find a hole that would be my hideaway

Holes in my head black and endless
Thoughts i dont wanna think or express
Things I dont wanna remember, places I dont wanna go
Carefully skirt around them, but they are still there I know

Rabbit holes transport you to wonderland
Will I find mine close at hand?
I just wanna run far far away
Find a hole that would be my hideaway

Early Morning Office

I had forgotten what it felt like to come into office on an early morning. Sunlight pouring in through the windows and an empty expanse of cublicles, the water cooler free of people, the cafeteria just getting ready for breakfast, the AC not freezing cold. And the total silence.
It's nice to watch the office slowly fill up as people come in and start work. Switch on their computers, check their emails, drink some coffee, banter with friends. And then start their endless phone conversations.
The office machine slowly wakes up to life, and the human cogs start turning. The wheels will grind on late into the night.
But for now its an empty office.

Oh What Freedom this!!!

It's been a long long time. I have to come to office early to do this. :)
What shall I write about today? Theres everything and nothing. I've been thinking about the process of novel writing. How do authors construct a story, fit charachters into it and govern everything about them? Its a feeling of immense power but incredibly difficult. How do they ever decide that this is the way the story is goins to happen, this is the way this charachter is going to behave and this is the way I am going to write it. I for one cant even think of a story I want to write about.

Why are you Late Today ?

The door bell rings suddenly, insistently, shaking me out of my slumber and I walk bleary eyed to the door. The maid awaits, having managed to wake me after four attempts at the bell. Our morning alarm clock is late again. And I know that we will be rushing to office, running around desperately to catch an auto-wallah willing to take us the short distance to office, cursing the traffic, and generally doing what most Mumbaikars do in the morning.
“Why are u late today?”, I question querulously, “Don’t you know we have to get to office by 9, and can’t be waiting for you?”. She does not answer, just staggers around unsteadily while she attempts to sweep the house. I notice, and think for the umpteenth time that we need to get a new maid, this one seems to be getting worse by the day. But there just doesn’t seem to be the time to do anything nowadays. I rush to office, oblivious to any problems but my own.
Another day dawns, more leisurely this time. The bell wakes me up again. I even attempt a smile today, from the general good cheer of the weekend stretching ahead. I make some tea while she cuts the vegetables. Only when I am about to drink it, does it occur to me to offer her some. She becomes a human suddenly, just the same as me. A few questions and I learn her story. Married at 18, four kids already, and a drunk for a husband who beats her up regularly. The last time he had done that, she had had to go to hospital for a week and couldn’t walk properly after that. She still came to work anyway because she’s the only earning member now. Economic independence and women’s liberty. This is not what they mean, surely?
The door bell rings again. She seems terrified. “If it is my husband, tell him that I have left. Please. He will drag me home if he finds me here”. I open the door to find blood shot eyes. I smell the alcohol on his breath. I hold the door open an inch, and say she has left. He repeats the question, and I my answer. More irritably. Insistently. I slam the door shut on his face, wishing instead that I could give him a taste of his own medicine.
She smiles at me gratefully. We are allies now. Friends in a way. She may remain a terrible cook, and a sloppy worker. But she’s turned more into ‘Madhuri didi’ now, from being just ‘the maid’.

The Incredible Kindness of People

We often hear stories of people complaining about how they have been unfairly treated by others. I think its an in built human trait that we focus on the negatives rather than the positives. But i have often been amazed by the sheer kindness that people can exhibit sometimes without expecting anything in return.
I was on my first trip to Mumbai, alone on a train from Chennai, visiting the IIT campus for a competition. Solely dependent on some vague instructions provided by the event organisers I was a little nervous about how to get to the campus from the station. Asking a few people in the compartment around me, elicited immediate directions and warnings. One man actually got down in the station along with me, put me on a taxi after issuing dire warnings to the driver and even went to the extent of calling me after half an hour to inquire if I had reached safely. I was incredibly touched. And delighted. That a total stranger should go to so much trouble for me expecting nothing in return was surprising to say the least.
Ive tried to do my bit too after that, helping strangers with heavy luggage, giving up seats on buses for old people, exchanging berths on trains. Little bits of kindness here and there. People view me suspiciously sometimes, but they make someone's day a little brighter sometimes. And they are surprised too by the kindness of strangers.

Transition times

My life has been always neatly divided into phases. There was school, college, Wipro, MBA so far and now my married phase is about to begin. But I think its those in between transition times that are the hardest to define and get through. Looking back now I think they were what helped to adjust from one phase to another and changed something inside me. Helped me grow up from a school going child to one supposedly ready to face the challenges and sudden independence in college. And then from an immature college student to an excited then bored office goer.
I am in a transition time right now, and I have the feeling of having lost my moorings, of being afloat and patiently waiting to reach somewhere, to start the next phase. I can already feel the time slipping away, the time I want to cling onto and remember - as a spoilt grandchild, as an independent woman, as a daughter with the freedom to make her own decisions, as a child who doesn’t have to think about what others might think of her actions. Time to just sit at home and while the hours away, reading a book or sleeping or just doing nothing without feeling guilty about it. This is one of the most precious times to me and i intend (hopefully) to use it well.