What more?

You sleep in late. But not too late.
Open your eyes to the smell of a hot cup of tea , to the tunes of your favourite song
and this ..

What more can you ask for?…

Seven days …And still confused

Unicorns can fly ,

Unicorns have magical powers

and unicorns are in my mind ,

That is what my seven year old scribbled between soft parallel lines on the 19th. My mind wafted in to heroes and villains . Do they also exist only in one's mind.

What do you do with a dead hero and what do you do with a dead villain.

You lay to rest ,both , I recon. And move on.

Much happened back at home , past week. People have rejoiced , grieved , sighed of relief and wrote .

When the tarmac was kissed , I confess I felt my eyes cloud, heart a bit weighty . That's the surrealist in me . I am a sucker for that kind of things , I guess it is the midlife. My heart sheds a tear for the people , swarming in to the camps. Yet I am vague whether those people are glad to escape or whether they are dejected with their plight. I think I know how they feel. Think, being the focus word here.

I saw the photos of the dead man. And I felt confused . Honestly I never thought I'll see the day. Yet…

I assume every one of us went through this emotional roller-coaster to some extent during the past seven days . Happy ,Sad and a little confused. .

Miles away. Across seas . I could clearly hear the cheers and the sighs. My mind is all tanglse about , "how did"s and "what next"s. That throbbing feeling to do "something", has occupied my mind.

I close my eyes and only pray for us to get it right this time.

Jaffnalgic

Once a upon a life time

There we were

In the kovil boulevard

dim scent of jasmine

Sweet smell of summer

Sweat

The bells ringing aloud

chants building up

my heart racing

I know yours is too

though your head bowed down

when I see the circles you draw

hinged at the heel, with your big toe

full moon in sand

Deevali moon.

I know,

I longed , to tame

your restive eyes

But they kept dancing

long after the music has stopped

 

In another life

Here we are

outside the pallid tents

waiting for lunch packets

hunched

like a silent

"e"

You sit

you look at me

(at least)

I know you are thinking of Jaffna

Nostalgic

about Jaffna

Jaffnalgic.

Me too

Crowded

Many were the working titles for this, yet could not decide on any of them. Felt it was ironic that the romance is a statue and the smiles are a TV commercial, while life is mundane and occupiedas usual.

Us the gentle beings……..

Firstly apologize for continuing on this band wagon of a theme.

But it dawned to me , while Nepal has a rebel leaders who go by the name "Prachanda" (the fierce one), we have Karuna (the empathetic) and Daya (the sympathetic) and so on

Isn't this adequate to attest that we truly are a tender pack.

"Wedi kanawada...............................? : choices

On one side of an earthly bund, an old man sits hunched. Among thousands standing, charred from both outside and inside, he sits. Outside by the unforgiving sun, inside by the flames of hunger in the belly and flames of despair in the heart. He is trying to make a choice. Choices, Life is made of them. Infact I guess life is about them.

Do I now escape Or do I stick with the familiar plight
Risk of getting shot at or risk of dyeing off starvation
Do I
Do I run away and risk the lives of my Grand children across seas
Do I run away fro this camp to another camp and depend on the kindness of strangers

On the other side of the curb another man is sitting on the veranda, looking at blackened smolder rising from the other side and darkening the clear blue colour scheme above. His grandson is playing at his feet. His daughter is in the kitchen planing lunch . He does not want to go in to the kitchen because he knows the drill. The boy’s father has called in the morning , from the Vavniya camp, just prior to marching in on a "mission". And like every time he calls , the daughter will be with cloudy eyes, and will break down at random. In the evening she will go to the temple for the daily Bodhi pooja.
He shuns the situation he does not know how to handle.
He too is trying make a choice.

Do they have the same right as us
Were they actually victims or were they supporters at one point
Do I lend my hand
Do I extend my kindness
to the people coming from the other side.


PS: The decision would be easy, when we realise that it is in fact our long lost friend, relative who is on the other side