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Unchaining a Tree

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Someone told me that writer’s block is basically the imaginary friend not willing to talk to the writer. If this is the case I think I lost mine, or perhaps he wandered off to a land where writing is as effortless as a waterfall or a sunrise.  And this post is my call, my ode and my plea for his mercy to come back to me.

Every morning I take a 30-minute bus drive to work, through a freeway which is mostly surrounded by trees with little or no buildings of any sort. It is very calming journey. Except the humming sound of the bus, there is no other noise. In fact, it is kind of soothing to travel with that sound, it makes no sense and forms a background music to my thoughts. Morning sun plays with shadows on the floor and people are usually quiet, either scrolling through their phone or sleeping. 

On these journeys, I either meditate, read or simply gaze through the window on the passing by sight with contemplation. I also make mental notes on the changes to the landscape, like a construc…

Raagi seeds from the loft

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“Where are all the Golu Park dolls?”, I asked my mom over the quiet lunch.  “enda kanna. It  must be on the loft”,  she looked at me curiously. Without waiting for my reply she continued “Do you want me to pack that so you can take it Singapore? “. That was a lovely gesture I thought. She understood that I missed Golu and I might be interested to have them. Only she could understand me without much words. “Nothing ma, just wanted to see them” 
( pic courtesy : Google )
After lunch I managed to get on the big stool made specially to access loft, and like a director of a movie, she guided me to the location among boxes of stuff. Golu is a 9-day festival where we adorn the home with beautiful mud idols of god. Park is basically a miniature village usually set up around Golu on sand. Its decorated with plastic houses, trees, villages, trains etc. “ Paathu kanna there is so much dust, why don’t you wear a kerchief mask, you are allergic to dust “ she raised her usual concern. 
There it was, my…

Toilet door, 5$ Race & Uber Smiles

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You know the embarrassing feeling when you open the door to the toilet at the same time as another person. Don’t swear on me yet, I guess the next worse thing is Looking directly into the eyes of stranger for more than 2 second. I say up to 1 second is still acceptable for Singapore. 
So this happened to me, when I pooled in an Uber cab (BTW its just 5$) on my way to work. I was upset about a problem with my living situation and was banking loads of anger, ready to snap anytime. Which is why I avoided conversation with fellow passengers. We stopped at the traffic light and my gaze fell on the construction truck next to us.Behind the truck was array of workers presumably on their way to work. If you have lived in Singapore, for longer than expiry date of bananas, you have witnessed this for sure.
From the crowd who were catching up on their sleep, he looked right back at me. To my shame it lasted longer than 2 seconds. He had a dark serious face with thick beard and mustache with thin …

Note to Thyself : Carry an Umbrella

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They say when you pray for rain, have enough faith to carry an umbrella... but what if your faith is wavering? Perhaps your umbrella may be broken or you are so tired to even carry yourself out yet alone an umbrella. Perhaps you are scared to show your umbrella to people who might ridicule your faith. All said and done you knew in your heart that if you could make yourself carry that umbrella with unwavering faith, it would rain. I am here right now at the path way to my future and all that follows this statement is conversation to thyself.


When it’s not my time  

I remember the trip I always wanted to take. Money, was always the main concern. However when I stumbled on that advertisement from the travel company offering a package tour at 50% slash rate, I found a different excuse. I convinced myself that I don’t have enough holidays left. God listen to my prayers and she bought that advertisement to me. The time was right, perhaps I wasn't ready.

When I have given up trying.

I hear…

Calliographic Ode to a Kanakambaram Flower

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“Vatsa stop watering rose pot. Too much water would drain the nutrients, water these tomatoes instead” shouted Sarala Paati (my grandma). I was playing with garden hose, experimenting different water fountain patterns with thumb. I must be 7 or 8 years old then. “Bring me that chisel and dig right here” she ordered. I was always the chosen minion amongst the bunch of cousins spending summer at Sarala Paati’s home. I would dig until my hands pained and dirt crept up under my finger nails.  I longed to go back to playing and asked “Is this ok? “, every few seconds. Invariably, without lifting her eye from pruning the plants, she would reply “dig a little deeper”. She must be awfully bored to do this, I thought.










By afternoon most of the adult napped providing us enough time to do unsupervised activities. We did everything from shooting vegetables to setting fire to the trash pit with powder from old fireworks. I made a bow and arrow for shooting vegetables. The string was made from rubbe…

Auto-correcting sanity of little black bird

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His voice pierced through the humming of the bus and snatum kaur singing from my earphone.  Few heads looked up with mine, to see who is making the noise. We were sitting on the top of double-decker bus, which was making a steady pace on the highway to work.  Sitting in the front seat was the loud toddler in uniform, who clearly seemed different and special. He was repeating some gibberish in a familiar nursery rhyme tune. Sitting next to him was his father, who neither responded to his loud singing, or to the murmurs of fellow passengers.
He caught me looking at him and smiled at me and I responded with smile. He turned around kneeling in his seat to face me. He stretched his hands to reach and I extended mine. He got excited now, and started singing louder, holding my hand in swaying movement.  His hands and eyes did not coordinate, and he kept looking at the passing trees. Listening closely I realized he isn't singing gibberish but the actual rhyme in his own way. He smiled for…

A Prayer of the Flying Fox

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Dear You,
I bet the cemeteries heard more honest confessions than any court, Airports have seen more love than any wedding and Hospitals have heard most sincere prayers than any place of worship. Because regret is stronger than gratefulness, so loss is felt stronger than gains.  Be it a friend who left us for an absurd reason, Love that is faded over time or a loved one who departed too soon. We hold on to them like a tight rope that’s going to stop us from falling free.
Ok now you move forward and slide down whenever ready” my instructor told me for the third time. I was sitting on edge of a platform of (what I suppose) 200 meter tall tower. I had my safety jacket on, and it’s attached to the pulley of an overhead cable that was connected from the tower to a lower point. This is what I signed up for, in my recent trip to Bintan in Indonesia.  The idea is to freefall from the platform and slide to the lower point which is popularly known as “Flying fox”. The instructor again asked me t…