Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Sublimation



The dust in the hourglass falls down rhythmically,
While you and I negotiate on this slow-moving life,
Like the ancient master of absurdity had once wrote,
None comes, none goes, nothing happens- uneventful.

You and I have reached a point where we need to part,
You have miles to go to reach your true destination,
While I decide to stay behind hiding my hurt heart,
Nursing the wounds with a half-woven dream in words.

You and I lived together in a make-believe world,
You with your ready-made ideas of time-travelling,
While I went on weaving dreams of having a family,
All centred around your strong arms around mine.

For there is no going back, this absurd heart knows
For some solids shed no tears, those who sublimate.

Home


Nowadays, teaching means you have to raise your voice
Louder than the taking-off- planes or screeching trains;
Roaming around the campus looking at the strange trees,
Wondering at what strange names they must be having. 


It often means finding that perfect selfie under the trees,
Feeling at home in the canteen with a book in my hand,
Trying to remember what made you leave this place once,
While looking around the tomes in the neatly kept library.

It means singing that old monsoon raga to watch if it rains,
Where the eyes that focus on you are lost in hunger or love
Where the kids worship you like an amazon warrior of old,
All amidst the noises of the sea that beckons from nearby.

This coming home might not have been an accident at all, 
To have come back once again under the same ancient trees.

Love






Wherever I go, I see your face in the vast crowds,
In the face of strangers, on the walls, on the pages,
While I try my best to keep you away day and night
Keep your thoughts that come like chorus in a song.

You come back in the rain and in the bright sunshine,
In the ochre light of early dawn or the purple sunset,
Your voice that trails across the miles to bring a smile,
While you remain a memory that I try hard to erase.

It brings back a much forgotten era of bright sunshine,
When we were both young under the same supermoon,
When our voices that commingled could bring friends,
From far and wide just to listen to the merriment seen.

But now, this heart wants to build a strong fortress,
To keep you from making me a slave of your love.

the sun and her flowers



The writer that I am currently reading (and raving about) is Rupi Kaur. Recently, on a lazy afternoon, I was literally gobbling on her book "the sun and her flowers", when I saw her poetry slam at the Jaipur Literary festival.


She is very vivacious and the energy that flows from the book is quite contagious.She shared an anecdote on watching Atwood at a previous literary festival and this time it was her presenting her poems. I turned the pages of "the sun and her flowers" along with her and I found it a profoundly moving experience. Hope to lay hands on her next book, soon!




Sunday, January 28, 2018

Silence


There is no perfect life around;

Once there were limbs, dark

That should have been entwined

In embraces and songs to be sung

To cheer up our spirits low,

And fights that ended in kisses.



It was a perfect life that went by,

But these eyes mirror falsely

What once was so true for us,

Smiles for smiles, tears for tears

Not these shadows on the faces

That sense the imperfect us.



If it were that simple to set right

All the imperfections in me,

All the imperfections in you

No words are good enough;

For it all began with a smile;

And ended in perfect silence.

Thursday, January 25, 2018

THE WARRIOR OF LIGHT: PAULO COELHO AND HIS BOOKS




A warrior of light values a child’s eyes because they are able to look at the world without bitterness. When he wants to find out if the person beside him is worthy of his trust, he tries to see him as a child would.  (The Manual of the Warrior of Light).

Paulo Coelho, the literary alchemist, was born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, in August 1947. He was a highly successful songwriter for the rock star Raul Seixas until he met with his mentor who advised him to go on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. This walk changed his life and he converted to Christianity. This life-defining journey forms the theme of his first novel The Pilgrimage, published in 1987. He advocates through this book that “the extraordinary is always found in the way of the common people."

Coelho’s second book The Alchemist has become a universally admired modern classic because of its allegorical nature. It describes the journey of a young Andalusian shepherd boy named Santiago to the pyramids of Egypt in search of a treasure and the philosophy of the book is lies in these lines: “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it."

Brida is Coelho's third novel and narrates the story of young woman who experiments with sorcery and other magical traditions. In this novel, he dealt with the theme of the feminine face of God, which was a strange idea to most people.

The Valkyries is about the exorcism of personal demons and discovering one's strength. This autobiographical novel narrates how Paulo and his wife Chris go on a spiritual quest to the arid Mojave Desert to meet the Valkyries, a group of warrior women who travel the desert on motorcycles.

By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept, Veronika Decides to Die and  The Devil and Miss Prym are part of a trilogy called "On the Seventh Day". This trilogy is a week in the life of someone ordinary to whom something extraordinary happens.

The Fifth Mountain is based on the story of Elijah from the Bible and explores the prophetic questioning of authority, rebellion and liberation. At the same time the novel is a powerful metaphor of human self-confidence and strong desire for self-fulfillment by helping other humans.

The Manual of the Warrior of Light is a collection of Paulo Coelho's teachings summed up into one volume. It includes proverbs, extracts from the Tao Te Ching, the Bible, the book of Chuang Tzu, the Talmud and various other sources, and is written in the form of short philosophical passages.

Eleven Minutes narrates the story of Maria, a young girl from a remote village of Brazil, who goes to seek her fortune in Switzerland, only to find that reality is lot harder than she expected. But when she least expects it, she experiences love.

The Zahir is about a bestselling novelist who enjoys his luxurious and peaceful life, until the inexplicable disappearance of his wife from their Paris home. Coelho compares a marriage with a set of railway tracks which always stay together but cease to come any closer. This novel is journey from a stagnant marriage and love to the realization of unseen but ever increasing gravity between the two souls.

In Like the Flowing River, Coelho offers his personal reflections on a wide range of subjects from archery and music to elegance, travelling and the nature of good and evil. He shows us how life has lessons for us in the greatest, smallest and most unusual of experiences.

The Witch of Portobello starts with the death of the main character Athena and is narrated from the perspectives of many people who knew her. They each provide a different view of her, describing not only what they saw and experienced but adding their own impressions, interpreting her through their own beliefs and fears.

The Winner Stands Alone is set at Cannes during the Film Festival and narrates the epic drama and tension between the three main characters- Igor, Hamid and Gabriela in a 24 hour period. He offers a novel full of suspense, a mirror image of the world we live in, where our commitment to luxury and the success of any cost often prevents us from hearing what the heart actually whispers. He points out that money, power and fame are what drives most people.

Aleph is an autobiographical novel that depicts his search for spiritual renewal and growth. Coelho decides to travel, to experiment, to reconnect with people and the world. This journey helps him to open up to friendship, love, faith and forgiveness and be stronger in the challenges of life.

Coelho has written more than twenty novels and his recent work Manuscript found in Accra deals with the story of an Englishman who discovers a manuscript that figures an ancient alchemist named Copt, who answers questions of a crowd who are gathered inside the city gates of Jerusalem in 1099. What is success?” poses the Copt: “It's being able to go to bed each night with your soul at peace.” His works focus on the discovery of the self as means of spiritual fulfillment.

FilterCopy | 10 Struggles Of People Who Wear Glasses | Ft. Apoorva Arora...




Friday, January 19, 2018

Service

Life

A piece of cake






I have read that how you eat a slice of cake shows how much discipline you have, whether you start with the icing and leave the rest or eat it slowly savouring its delight. Some eat the icing first, those who like the showy life and leave the rest behind while some eat it slowly deliberately enjoying it fully in a Zen Buddhist fashion, the best and the worst in the same fashion. Might appear like a crude philosophy of life but these are some thoughts on baking red velvet cakes for the last two days. 


Like most of the Malayali public, I met the red velvet cake through the popular Malayalam movie Premam. In the movie, the hero wins the heart of the girl he marries by introducing this new variety to her. There were a few set of things that the films made into fashion- pimples, long unmanageable curls, bragging ala the professori mode, the narrative of having more than love affairs or failures or the song Malare,  it is this variety of cake that became so popular thanks to the film. 

When I went for attending the cake baking class, I found this variety to be tedious owing to the addition of food colour, which is cochineal red. Now, almost an year later and many other experiments later especially on Valentine's day for colleagues (who unfortunately are guinea pigs and foodies) I thought the time for the Red Velvet Cake has come. The result is an amazing epiphany into the long journey of cake-baking, battling fears about succeeding and finally feeling that thrill which comes on watching the tiny hands fighting to finish off my red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting. What appears as a piece of cake is in fact a long journey in the learning curve though!

Editing

This blog has been temporarily withdrawn for rewriting and editing purposes. Thank you for supporting it for the last 9 years. @maria joy

Thursday, January 11, 2018

Our day of love




 When the morning light drained through the windows she opened her eyes. Slowly she became conscious of everything around her. Last night, she had fallen asleep crying. Now her heart was empty but soon thoughts of reasoning and doubt would cloud it again. It was a day she had dreaded all this time. Throughout all the happy days the shadow of this inevitable day was on her happiness, on their happiness.



Back from bath, she thought, this one day I can look like an unhappy broken-hearted girl and make him unhappy.  So she chose her brightest smile and her brightest clothes and put them on with care. He would be waiting for her at the usual place, with a smile. How will I hide my heart from him, her mind asked her. She walked to the usual place with a bowed down heart and a bright face.



From the first glance itself of her walking in that resplendent dress, he read through her veneer of cheerfulness easily. How to calm her, he thought. His heart wanted to protect her from everything, make her his, so that she would never have to face her troubles again. Yet he didn’t move at all and looked at her with the utmost attention.



As if to read his thoughts, she looked straight into his eyes, reading deep into his soul with her deep sad eyes. In that one single glance, much was said. Without even uttering a word, he understood that the end had begun and smiled like he expected it all along like a stoic warrior sentenced to death. She didn’t move but went on looking at him with the same calmness.



He moved his hand to touch her cheek. She twined his hand in hers and placed it against her cheek. Slowly a tear fell on his hand. Then more came while she sobbed aloud. Now he couldn’t bear all this distance. He leaned close to her and kissed her forehead. She smiled through her tears and rested her head against his chest. Hugging each other, they sat for long in silence.



When her tears ceased, she looked at him with a strange calmness and smiled. This smile was from heart where a strange silence took possession of her. When tears had purged the dross out of her mind and the emptiness in the heart was gone, what she felt was hope. Nothing could cast a shadow on their bliss again. As long as they lived, as long as death took one of them away, there was hope for them. An overwhelming love for him flowed in her heart. She took his hand and asked him to hug her tight and not to let her go to a universe of loss. Her eyes filled with tears for an instant. He held her tight and promised her that he will be with her till the end of his life.

Priceless








There were times when I have struggled a balance between my dreams of material wealth and spiritual happiness. Not that there were many possessions, a bare room that looked more like a scholar's study than a girl's bedroom but there was always a need to keep it spick and span.



There was this craving for possessions later always caused by an awareness of a lack looking at the wealthy and the rich. Then now, when it is possible to have possessions and objects that one wants, this strange heart wants nothing but to be left at peace, to know the wisdom of simplicity and of keeping away from needless clutter.



It wants not to learn the price of new desirables but to keep against its heart the priceless value of timeworn possessions, worn-out words, tired dreams and old loves of words, coffee, wine, music and  you.

Sunset sky

A Cup of Tea

Gratitude

Knowledge

The truth

Adventure

Love

Beauty

Nature

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Home

This is the place where my dreams learnt how to fly
This is the place where I blossomed into a youth
This is where my heart grew in pain and joy.
Like a human heart, this is my home
Goodbye my home of four long years
Before I go I have  treasured each and every part of you
Before I leave you I say for sure
That though I may come back
It will not be the same as now.
Time would have changed me and you
You’d no longer miss my laughter and tears
You’d no longer miss the way I make this place alive
New voices will take my place
Yet I know for sure even now
That you will always be the home I love
Because this is where I have learnt to live.

Tuesday, January 09, 2018

Chingam












When the much-awaited spring is around
You and I enjoy our days of togetherness,
The scent of sweet jasmines on our bed
Your fingers undoing my long braided hair.

My six yards of kasavu sari all crumbled
Around your two yards of kasavu mundu
The sweetness of these long waiting years
That finds its way into your limbs and mine.

We rest together after a sumptous onam feast
Amid smells of childhood and boatsongs
That you sing in your sweet mellow voice.
To the snake-boats across the River Green.

When the spring is finally around for us both
We reign an ancient king and his demure queen.









Lovestory




He was no epic hero of the ancient times. Just an ordinary guy with a habit of dragging his feet. At times, he looked so bedraggled that people might stare at him. He looked as if his life was a tiresome journey with his tousled hair and sleepy eyes. Yet when he walked into the room, her eyes lit up in a smile as if he meant the world to her. It was with her heart that he rummaged his tousled hair, bite his ear and whispered sweet nothings into them. Her body craved for him, to take him out for coffee, make out with him while there was still a little life left in it. This desire for his love and the knowledge of him made her long for the day when he would be his. But for a while, one smile was enough and her heart was bouyant and flew up in the air in circles.



She was like a butterfly most of the time but in the growing years, she had grown more and more heavy at heart that she forgot how to smile. Outwardly, nobody noticed the flaws in her- she had the gentlest word and the perfect smile. In her thirties, she suffered from a sense of emptiness that gnawed inside her. Her soul was dead and she had forgotten how to be the perfect fool in love. But with him, she felt like she can conquer the whole world and she wanted to be with him at any cost. But what prevented her from articulating this desire was her reticence to speak out these in words. But when he smiled at her, it was as if the whole world turned upside down just for her. Like the dance of the peacock before the rains, her heart danced in anticipation of meeting him. 
 

Couple Goals

We have celebrated our days of togetherness as if each day was a special occasion, gone on adventures in the city, explored new nooks and co...