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?…
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.
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
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.