Another Year For Archival

Sometimes life is more than emptiness and pain, more than the need to be politically correct or to be sharp like the roads that wind around cliffs.

Life is more than the craving for love or a home, more than the silence that hangs in a winter night around the lit fireplace.

Life is more than the flight of a soul, like that of a bird, in its trials to shorten the distance between two thoughts.

Life is so much more and yet, each breath we take is so very light, that a sigh holding the weight of the world goes from heart to heart without the slightest ripple.

Soaring

Another chunk of life is on my wings. Memories have been packed up and shipped to another city.

The times had been good.
Glimpsed this place. Saw cooked-rice grains falling softly, like snow, on top of each other and wondered if they have souls. Adversities breed character.
Lived that age. Timeless and silent, they stand terribly alone.
Met people on roads, in buses and trains, who stopped to share tiny bits of their lives with me.
Went up a spiral staircase and was glad when it finally ended.
Met myself and I am surprised again.

Little pieces of us live in the future - in dreams and tomorrows. One day, we shall meet those tiny ones and be whole.

Pebbles in a Pond

With stony certainty, we are sure of some people. We have the pulse of their being what they are. We know them as if their blood flows in our veins.
Sometimes, not so much, about some others.

They had not been sand between the fingers. Not words written on water. Not a sting, not a fall. But they are, now.
They had been sunstone, summer rain. Detours that changed our destinations, enriched our journeys. They still are.

Now, you look at the vastness of the empty space and the darkness of the deep gorge left behind by them; you hold their share of sweet memories they didn't want a part of; you try to make sense of the nothingness in everything.

Dear friend, you held it well, precious, in your palm. And that is why I am sure of you.

Present Past

One needs to get out more often to see how the world is set in motion.
Discovering relics of the past is a wonderful moment indeed, but so is being part of the present. A blend of both, here.

The kid grew up.

The cows were sold, the barn empty and barred.

The sun gets stubborn. The afternoon nap.

Bridges to Burn, May We have None

Kerrville, Texas

Panakkad, Kerala

Summer Fires

The temple. Bright colored-saree clad women with their daughters, preparing offerings in earthern pots under summer fires. Corners of their eyes crinkled with the heat from the simmering delicacies.

The nuns in the next berths finish up their dinners. Their grey uniforms merge with the bluish seats of the train.

How do kids remember a childhood? Counting the bunnies on the air pillow with papa? Waving at trains running through the slums that is their home?

Let us give them little words of love to carry through the days.

The Perfect Crown

Try, try and try, and you shall succeed.

For Dreams to Come True

It rains there. Life is the tango of lovers. Slow and sensuous flow of million streams of water.

And then it rains here. The thousand vapours lit up in the headlights of a car. Life is a breathtaking assault of windy waterdrops, drenching, churning, drowning and then, dripping.

What is your rain?

Perspective

When life turns upside down...

...take a shot anyway!

wishing and hoping

Where will you take me? Valley of bluebonnets? Singing crystal spring? Wild flowers blooming wild? Tall trees and sunlit leaves?

I shall cross the seven seas and all the mountains in between.
Take me to my sweetheart.

Terrains

Another journey. Another rain. Take me home, the roads whisper. Take me where you have never been.

  

Phoenix

Aren't we all baked in our own fires - embers to flames to ashes - only to rise again!

Euphoria

You can hear the immense silence within yourself as you stand drenched near the foot of the roaring, cascading falls.
Niagara does that to you.

A short walk in the State Park. The Spirit of 3 Sisters Island. The grass is soft under your feet, the wild flowers are just beginning to bloom under a spring sun. And then there is the water. Gallons of it.

If you have had a brief moment in time when you experience sheer power, this is where it is.

Silhouette

So, I was walking with me, and I looked ahead and saw this perfect sunset over the city.

Hope you love this glimpse.

Misty!

The mist rolls
into tall trees
into crannies of leaves
filling their veins
in soft, white, fluffy love.

may Spring follow a Summer

Away, far away

Don't you remember the scene from "The Village" where Ivy Walker holds her hand out into the darkest night unwaveringly - the evil growl of the monster threateningly near?

An unfaltering faith in things-to-be is what I need right now.

Wherever you are, may peace and hope light your way.

So It Begins

The journey. That first step. That sunshine beckoning.

Open the door and walk out.

Journeys To Remember

Another journey.
There is much unrest, but glimpses always find me. There isn't exactly the mountain-spring-gurgling-birds-chirping-calmness, but I have managed to keep absolutely still.

Those that found me.

Legends of Khasak, by O.V Vijayan.

Wheels of life that keep spinning.

Withered flowers and serenity.

A cup of tea, just the way I like it.

The May-Wonder.

The perfect sunshine outside the window.

Have a soothing time!

When I think about it

Remember those sepia-toned photographs from the past in which relatives you will never meet stare steadfastly at the camera, with just a speck of a smile on their faces? Sometimes, I am one of them - balanced on the fringes of such photographs - whom you dont notice for years.

Sometimes there is so much silence that the depth of this silence takes on a new meaning. Silence that cannot be broken.

I vividly remember your photograph of the bird in flight, its white wings backlit by the sun. Glorious.

I think of You

I wonder about this woman from centuries ago, hidden in my unknown lineage. This woman, bound to wait in silence with a roaring sea inside her heart. Life was different then, but the spirit of the soul was the same.
I wonder about how she might have gazed furiously yet hopefully, out into the future - the world lit only by her eyes.
Would she have known that years hence, in this time frame, in this tiny instant, on a warm summer night, in the shadows of the lights shining from the street, I shall think about her, crystal clear?

I wonder about her, and our fate that is the same and one. Her atoms in me, mine in her. I wonder if she would agree that I am like her - grey shades of black and white.

Let It Snow

Miles and miles of snow.
White, fluffy, wet snow.
What if the snow melts in a cold gaze?
It cannot be good enough
When it is just a faraway place
We had once dreamt of.

Now, that is a lonely elephant :(

Crumbling Castle

The rain pants and dies
Leaving behind only a hissing wind.
Coldness creeps into corners of cells,
Settles down in dark spaces.
You will hear it
If you have listened to dying embers.

Isn't life a big

Sailor

I dream of speaking in nautical miles, of holding the sun hostage with an anchor, of finding mermaids, of chests of pearls and rubies, emeralds and sapphires.

Ah, the sheer silliness of it all.

C'est la vie

No matter how early I start, the sun beats me down. The glimpses along the way make up for the heat though. So I shall not complain.

Yes, sometimes life is just a catamaran over an angry sea.

Yes, sometimes all you wish for is that your boat doesn't capsize. 

 Yes, sometimes you are that lonely soul at shore, dreaming of sailing away to faraway lands.

Yes, all you have is love

 To splash and paint all lives.

Dedicated to all out there who add their own hues into my life.

Colors

My first travel portrait - a sculpture artist from Mahabalipuram, Tamil Nadu.
I love the tones this photograph has. Tell me what you think!

The artist was gracious - he explained the process to me, took me on a tour of his small sculpture store across the road. The red-green-enamelled elephants he had on display were beautiful.

Speaking of red-green colors, I am also reminded of :
paalakka necklace - a signature necklace of Kerala.
bandhani churidars - from Rajasthan.
samosas with mint and chilly chutneys.

Without You

Jagjit Singh sings softly "Mujhme jo kuch accha hein, sab uska hein."

Sometimes I am just a morning without my sun.

Other times, I am a tiny bird without my wings.

Golden Morning

May you be loved tons, today and everyday.

Passion

You want to own, possess, that person in a way he cannot possibly hope to own himself.
You want to feel attached to the things he hate, thankful that they don't belong to him.
You will love the roads through which he has gone. The wind that might have caressed him. The skies that might have been touched by his eyes. The walls on which his hands might have rested. You want to own him without his knowing. You take the ways you think he took. You take in the wind which, you believe, has seen his heart. You envy the places he thinks highly of. You can't bear to think of him in another way, in another day.

You want to listen to him. You know he might not have interest in what you want to hear.. But the possibility of listening to him about anything, for all the times you will spend with him - like the thought of walking to the end of earth, under blue skies, by the blue seas, under trees shedding leaves, crossing bridges with the bluest water flowing for ages beneath them, with him - appeals you.

He possesses you as a passion.

Life and Them

For a friend who is feeling blue, and wants something green. Looking back, for a good conversation.

When They Talk about Stars

Castles in the Wind

Pine Trees in My Heart

Sand, Dust and Time

The Shore Temple, Mahabalipuram, Tamil Nadu

It is an eye-opener to get out of the four walls and explore oneself.
Around me, the city pulsates. Earth breathes under my feet. Time keeps its flight forward. Time stands still.

Life is, sometimes, also about the choices that others make. Blindly, passionately, carelessly - and years after, we realize with the sinking feeling - our life has never been the same.

Yes, the road less travelled is lonely. The solace lies in the beauty that is ours and only ours.

Budha and the others

   Blessed by Gods

Soul Talk

I have not waited for you.
Just sometimes
when shadows lengthened
in an evening sun,
my soul grew restless
and I thought about you.

Nor have I searched.
You were climbing hills,
or holding our sons,
or looking at birds.
And I imagined your footsteps
seeking me.

My years have melted away,
I haven't held a single breath.
I should have held my heart out
It would have touched your light.

Why Haven't You Called?

call me
like a bird to another
(wanting to fly)
the wings fluttering
together
across blue skies

call me
like the wind in trees
tickling the leaves
and softly,
seep into my veins

there is love in this lake,
in your fingertips;
and one soul, now lives in two.

Looking Up At White Clouds

They have travelled far and wide. Like stories.
Dissolved as we watched, clouded our judgement, and blended in new ones of their kind.

I want to be a white cloud. Go where you have been. Go where you are yet to be.

When you look up at the sky, I want to be reflected in your eyes. The fifty-first way to own you. Someday, I shall tell you about the others.

For people we would have never met

The Earth blessed by their presence,

The skies touched by their eyes.

The steps they have taken towards us.

The life we lived, before we met them.

Summers of Love

Listen to the dive of a sea-gull,
And to a blooming bud.
Open your palm
And uncrumble the feather.

You lived in tiny summers of love,
Between sighs and longing.
I swam in winter pools,
Like mist on window panes.

Now, in autumn,
I want to walk on burning coal
To douse the ember in your glance.

Beauty Is Also

The Bridges of Madison County.
In the Shadow of Mountains by Steve McCurry.
Patterns and textures You bring to life.

Work

If I can feel the pulse of the systems I work on, am I machine, or are they human?