Anubavangal: Mazhaikaala Megangal

Anubavangal: Mazhaikaala Megangal: வெளியில் எட்டிப்பார்க்கும் பொழுது அப்படியே பிரமிப்பில் உறைந்துபோனேன் நான். ஹெலிகாப்ட்டர் பூச்சிகள் அங்கே பெரிதாக வளர்ந்திருக்கும் மரத்தை மேக...

Finding Heroes

All around me, I sense failing is the flavour of the season. - Or maybe, it has always been, but I am suddenly hearing about this a lot. About how failure is inevitable, and how people bounce back.

Yes, we must draw inspiration from those who met with failure but through sheer will power, creative thinking, will power, repackaging - whatever it took - came back.

When I stare at failure, I am encouraged with the words, "Look at that man/woman. She was like you, but now see where he/she is."

I laugh. My gloom increases. I can't help saying, "If that same man/woman had not managed to succeed finally, no one would even be talking about him/her!"

It is finally only the failures of the successful people that we talk of. Successful = popular, well known.

Even those who don't shine like stars in the firmament face failures. And then bounce back and lead their lives, successfully within their framework. But, they don't become popular. We fail to see inspiration in them. We still look beyond at the distant stars and talk only of how they used failure as a stepping stone.

Me? I think it is easier to admire people who are not page 3 material, but have still faced tragedies, slipped and fallen, got up and walked, or managed to steady themselves before they could fall. They have a steady course, give their children steady families, and maybe help shape them into future heroes. They themselves seem to lead an average life, but are still kings and queens of their homes and hearts. Their uniqueness is in the clarity the eyes reflect, the cheer the smile spreads, and the warmth they give as friends.

They are not kings but kingmakers.

Anubavangal: Cheenargalum Tharamum

Anubavangal: Cheenargalum Tharamum: சமீபத்தில் ஒரு புத்தகம் திருத்திக்கொண்டிருந்தேன். ஜப்பானில் தயாரிக்கப்படும் போருட்கள் என்றாலே ஒரு காலத்தில் தரம் இல்லை என்று பொருள். இன்று ந...

Bubbling Heart

You are too busy to talk
So am I!
You have your road to walk
So do I!

We met, and I thought
Our hearts met too
But unspoken though my love
Weren't you swept away too?

Didn't you feel the pain
That is a pleasure
Didn't you want to reach out
And share moments to treasure?

When you left
With not a word
Nursing the wound
I curled up like a hurt bird

Time, the healer
Worked around the wound
But the scar comes alive
Persistent like a hound

Not letting go of that
Deep buried love
Sometimes urging my lips
To utter your name with verve

To talk of you
Like any other person
As if you mattered
Not a bit more than the other one

Shy and scared
I kill that urge
So no one may know
For whom my heart so surges

Like the churning of chaos
Old and new merge
Angry bubbles boiling
Old feelings emerge

Only to be suppressed
And forgotten with time
To be remembered again one day
By this foolish heart of mine.

New Age God

As my friend narrated this story, I couldn't help laughing and wondering if this is how, in some age, stones came to be worshiped!

A few ladies in my building fasted on karva chauth and congregated in one of the houses to listen to the story that is narrated traditionally on this day. The lady of the house connected on skype with her mother in Delhi, who read out the "paatth". At the end of it, all the ladies in Chennai did a namaskar to the lady in Delhi via the net, physically bowing before the laptop.

My friend laughed and so did I. But I wondered if in some age, the stone was the medium of communication and so became consecrated. Maybe in a few years, when we lose power and the net, the future generations will still bow before the electronic devices which will be passed on from generation to generation because their elders did it!

Anubavangal: Setril Kaal, Vaanatthil Kann

Anubavangal: Setril Kaal, Vaanatthil Kann: வெய்யிலில் நின்று, குனிந்து வயலில் வேலை செய்யும் தன் தந்தையை பார்க்கும் சரவணனுக்கு மனதில் எதோ ஒரு ஏக்கம். குளிர்ந்த காரில் முதலாளி வந்து, வெ...

Following the Light

I was about to open the window after switching off the AC, when I noticed a bee hovering just outside. He was banging against the glass, desperately trying to get in. The light inside was immensely superior attraction over the darkness that covered the land behind him. His friends were probably asleep, or hovering over the queen bee, or doing whatever they normally do at that hour. But this one was the adventurous one, the ambitious one, or maybe, the terribly scared one. He wanted light. He wanted warmth. Though he had grown amidst nature, he found the artificial light attractive.

I kept him out, not opening the door. I tried to tell him this was a world of falsities. With one flick of the switch, the light will vanish. He had no friends here, only unfriendly hands that would try to squash it. He would be safe and warm wherever he was, with his friends, doing what he did best - collecting honey.

My pleas fell in deaf ears. Instead, he had questions to ask: If this is a life of falsities, what are you doing here? Aren't you a creature of nature too? How did you adapt? I will adapt too! Why should I be squashed? Couldn't we coexist?

His questions silenced me. I quietly switched the light off, hoping the night outside would look brighter than the dark room within.

I went to bed, pondering, wondering - what is right for one, why do we assume it is not right for another? Why sometimes it IS not right for another? Or is it that it is convenient to assume it is not right for another?