At some point in life probably when the summer evening tangoes with an oncoming storm, I might wake up to the fact that my best days stand frozen in a time across that pond and though much is accomplished and much is wont…nothing really compares to those now bizarre days …life on the back of a cinnamon flute …flowing behind many a pied piper …on broken wings of a golden butterfly ….fragile as walls made of rice ….shining like a diamond in the nude .
How swiftly the cocoon of memories created wafts away as one reaches home…..you try holding onto a steady stream of conscious thought desperate in your desire to still belong…all it takes is one ring of the phone to remind you of being back. And soon familiar sights of the haven known lull you into their illusion of being well….but you do know some part of your soul now lies scattered over the myriad waters blue and a setting woebegone sun.
Only the bent blades of grass to remind you of where you’ve been all along.
You…you aren’t perfect but then nor am I. I suppose that in itself must count for something? And if at all I was looking for a sign from the universes combined i’d say tis kismet that got us aligned. I send you my love across time and I harbour no hopes of you being mine but perhaps you shall buy me coffee when you see me next?
My love for all things flawed including me above all ….reflections over a lotus pond@ kumarakom
Ive always welcomed a new day with open arms…call me crazy, call me what you will …but each dawn brings with it an awakening thought…maybe it gathers clarity …maybe it rusts to no return…maybe you sink maybe you sail…or maybe like me you gift yourself another day. You flirt with the sheer insouciance of being, just an ephemeral soul on an endless passage of thought…
…frosted breath on window panes in unknown places …..I saw your face in a crowded place and gifted you a thousand forevers.
Home is where the heart is….at kumarakom
Woke up to the incessant chatter of birds ….well my lovelies I hopes breakfast was good coz mine will have to wait ….. It rains now ….and I am on my third cup of cardamom tea. I like the rains in kumarakom, they are as moody as I am and often make an appearance when ummm none is called for …. But I like their hurried departure even more …. leaving everything soaked with infinite goodness and cheer.
Kumarakom where the gods smile ever so often….
It’s a slow start to the day and as is must its always tea time … The day ahead looks relaxed as I unwind from the week that was…. woke up rather late …. the Flying Dutchmen were wonderful to watch …. poppy seeds and I rooted like crazy …. haven’t missed watching a match since I got hooked in 1992…takes me back to the bylanes of kormnagala and the hurried coffee ….making it back just in time to watch the match