pilgrim’s blog

The light at the end of the tunnel…..where was it or was it just a myth. Could the tunnel be dark and never ending? Myriads of thoughts rose and fell in her mind. She sat looking out of the window at the ground in front of her room popularly known as the waste land. Her thoughts shifted to the vacant land in front of her. Last week,it had been the epicenter of activity that took place on the occasion of the neighbour’s daughter’s wedding. This was the only place in the area which was not owned by any. Hence it functioned as public property. Whenever some one in the colony needed a place to host a function or the children had a sports meet or when the annual get together of the colony took place the waste land would become the venue. Then the place would buzz with activity. It would wear a festive look with festoons and balloons and garlands decorating it.

The occasion over and the cleaning done it would once again become the grazing ground of the cows and goats. The stray dogs would once again frequent it to catch their afternoon nap under the shady trees growing there. Every other piece of land in the vicinity had a specific purpose. Some housed beautiful villas, while the other a childrens’ park and yet other the club where the men gathered in the evenings to relax after a tiring day. As all these places had specific reasons for their existence they could not be used for any other purpose other than the one they were created for. To serve all other purposes was this ground which lay in front of her window. A ground that was taken for granted by all, even the animals roaming on it.

There was something special about the ground. It was ideal for any function may it be outdoor or indoor as if it had no limitation to its possibilities. In the hands of the person who wished to use it, the ground would mould itself to the requisition like the liquid that takes the shape of the vessel it is poured into. It appeared as if it never wished to be like the attractive plot that housed the villa or the beautiful children’s park or the place buzzing with activity every evening. Even when the function to be hosted there once in a blue moon got cancelled it seemed to have no complaints.

The other places that were beautiful and in constant use were thus because of this place. As she followed her train of thoughts she wondered how many could be like this vacant piece of land in front of her eyes that knew its purpose lay in being of no specific purpose  and yet be satisfied without claiming of being of any importance. The ground reminded her of the village bumpkin who willingly ran errands for all those who needed him but was termed a chronic idler but yet the village could not do without him. The rest felt important by making him the butt of their joke. The lovable being who scratched his bowed head with a silly smile on his lips on being teased. Where not people of his category also important in society…..Who says there is no light at the end of the tunnel.

They had not met each other

They did not know how each looked

They had not heard each other

But they were friends. They trusted each other. They knew each other’s likes and dislikes like none other. They knew each others views on a plethora of subjects. Each knew how the other would react to a particular situation or what would bring a smile or a frown to the unseen face. There had been instances when one would read the others mind even before the thought was put into word. A pause from ones side would be correctly analyzed by the other many a time. Their friendship gave a new meaning to the world of words and wordlessness. Sitting miles apart they understood each other better than the friends who were only a few paces away.

Was it just the words they typed and that which appeared on the screen the only binding factor between them or was it the absence of the other regular factors that led to a friendship, resulted in this unique one? The thought that the words on the screen may cease to appear any day due to reasons unknown to the other and that which the other would never be able to decipher caused no insecurities. This was a friendship that created a feeling of liberation. It was one of the rare instances when the mystery of the unknown created charm rather than fear. A friendship between minds that were strong and not dilly dallying. It was a friendship that was beautiful as long as it lasted and would leave no bitter taste later. A friendship that held neither any expectations nor passed any judgments. A friendship that made one think, could the minds be indeed a part of the universal consciousness or else how could one vibe so well with some one sitting miles away. A friendship that allowed one to be oneself. Even pretension becomes fun here. A space that remained ones exclusively. A friendship in which no external entities played a role. Only the identity that one projected here mattered. It was either ones true self exposed to the bones or an ideal image, that one strived to achieve but failed in real life.

 Is this the real or the unreal is difficult to decide. Is it different because it is uncertain or is it the certainty about those involved makes it different. Either way it is cherished like divinity that lasts fleetingly but leaves a lasting imprint on our conscious…..

'Kerala' means the land of coconuts is what I have been taught since childhood. Today I came across a news in the morning papers. It said the coir industry which is one of the few income generating industries in the state and which is renowned world wide for producing high quality coir products is now in dire straits.The reason stated is the unavailability of  coconut husk which is the main raw material required. Till recent times Kerala used to buy coconut husk from Tamil Nadu but now the latter is selling the same to China and hence is unable to meet Kerala's requisition for the same.

The irony of the situation hits you on the face. The very same land that got its name because of the presence of coconut palm in abundance there is now having to depend on outside places for the survival of the most sought after industry in the region. Why so?

The white paper stares at me mockingly. Unable to hold its stare I turn to the previous page. Half finished sentences and half baked ideas, all struck out vigorously by the pen held by a hand, at the mercy of a mind that refuses to be calm. The mind makes another attempt to put into words the myriad feelings that crowd inside it. The hand holds the pen half heartedly. The nerves running to the finger tips refuse to carry the message from the brain. The hand that had written apt words following the commands of a clear mind now give birth to words that appear weak and faded with some of them trailing to oblivion. The whole body is as if agitating against the dictatorship of the brain that is under the control of the mind that refuses to give up. The eyes droop, the temples ache and the jaws feel stiff. The fight between the body and the mind transcends to a fight between the concrete and the abstract. When the abstract strikes there is no escape. No pain killers, no balm comes to our help. Even in sleep the invincible arms of the mind that seeks peace jolts me making me toss and turn forcing me to wakefulness. The eyes that shot open, with difficulty try to adjust to the darkness. Four more hours to go before day break. Lying still and concentrating on the techniques of meditation turn futile. I decide to act before this restlessness drowns me. I get up and pick up the pen that still lay on the white paper. The ink at its tip had dried as I had forgotten to replace the lid. I cajole it to cooperate. I begin to write. As the arms of the clock tick by I feel a calm descending on me. A sigh of relief escapes my parched lips. I wet my dry throat with a gulp of the cold water in the bottle by my bedside. Yes I am ready to face the new day. As I stand by the window I see the first rays of the sun touching the ground ushering in a new beginning ..     

Flying high in the sky,looking through the window,the sight that the night sky revealed to me,for a moment, took my breath away. The ground below was strewn with blue and yellow lights for miles together. They looked like precious stones sparkling in their black velvet case. The lights of the vehicles moving on the invisible road were like golden beads running amock in all direction happy at escaping from the snapped strand, that held them together once. Could they have formed the part of a princess' necklace? But they looked more beautiful lying scattered patternless. I felt like taking a palm full of them  and let them fall on the ground seeing them bounce up and down till the momentum ceased gradually and they slowly rolled to a stand still position. 

On many a nights I have sat on the terrace of my house admiring the beauty of the star studded sky, wishing I could move among the twinkling stars. I have seen different shapes amidst them that only unfurled in front of me and admired them for hours together till my sleep laden eyes would droop taking me to the land of my dreams.

That night as I watched the ground below from the firmament I realised the earth that I belonged to looked so much more beautiful from up. The lack of order and pattern among the lights below, made them more fascinating .Was I not immature to try to see patterns among the stars when the secret of their beauty lay in their refusal to fall into an order? Was not their unruliness that enabled me to see shapes according to my fantasy? Do we not always try to reduce things to the shapes ,sizes and truths that we are familiar with refusing to look at things from a different perspective and in the process confine ourselves to narrow mindedness.

Another truth that hit me that night was regarding our failure to evaluate what we already have. When things are too close to us we fail to see their true worth.It is only when they move away from us that we see their true value. Seeing earth from the sky I realised how beautiful it was and foolishly I wished to be in the sky. Distancing my self for a while from it made me realise its true worth. It is good sometime to go through the exerise of separation for a while if it makes us realise the true worth of what we have ..No wonder the lights below looked like the diamonds in the sky because the lessons they taught me would sparlke like diamonds in my life for years and years

The drop of tear

Stood in the corner of the eye

Unaware of her fate

Would she flow or dry?

The drop of tear seemed

At the mercy of the lashes

That were still

Like the cat

Before it dashes

Their blinking

Will make the tear flow

If she flows

She will cleanse

If she dries

Feelings will die

The drop of tear

Tiny it may be

Is impregnated with power

Though helpless she may appear

When she needed him the most

He was chasing his dreams

He did not realize

Her dreams revolved around him

She wished he would notice her

In the rush to get his things

But her wish remained a wish

The waiting never ending

She began to take refuge

In her world of dreams

Where she found happiness

And a respite from the pain

But she knew she had to return

For there was a little bud

That awaited her loving touch

Else it would wither

She had to be strong

For the little bud

That needed her love and care

To bloom into a flower

He was not blind

Yet he turned a blind eye

He was not deaf

Yet he sought to be so

He heard her footsteps

The knock on the door

Her sobs that lasted long

And faded as she walked away

With a laden heart

No response from him

Coming her way

Then the silence

Hit him hard

He opened the door

With shivering hands

Nothing but darkness

Greeted his glance

He peered hard

But not even her shadow

Did he see that consoled his heart

He cried, he sobbed

He even whimpered

The door he left ajar

Hoping to see her

Enter through the one

He had refused to open

A long time ago .

A mother's heart

She had

That knew only to trust

No iota of doubt

Ever crossed her thoughts

And yet

The betrayal

At the hands of the ones she loved

Immolated her soul

The flame devouring,

Nothing remaining

Of her, just the ashes

That too were blown

By the gust of wind.

All those who saw said

The ash is gone

So no phoenix would arise this time.

But, from that one particle

Which clung unseen

Arose she

Not to immolate

But to love them

More than before

Till their souls

Cleansed of all sins

Sought her shelter

The strong arms

She cupped

In her delicate ones

The fresh burst of energy

They felt with awe,

Within them

It is this which

Sustains the universe

And every living creature

Is blessed with it

Some find it soon

Some take time

But all experience this attribute

Once in the life time

He seemed to admired her

Not for her brains

But the lack of it

Her refusal to open her eyes

To what was real

Though his intentions

Of what he wanted was very clear

Her existence in a world

That was so surreal

Her warped self

To him,seemed so convenient

Fed his ego

That bloated with every go

The day the bubble bursts

May be the end of this tryst.

What he enjoyed all this years

He may have to pay back in tears.

For that which is sleeping

Is bound to awaken

And the resulting storm

Would leave everything shaken

If his luck is good

She may pardon his faults

And still love him as a man with human flaws.