Lost in Thoughts

Here’s what I love about villages. They actually give time for your whirling mind to slow down to leisurely paces, creating a soothing effect, one can find nowhere else. Ramanathapuram is one such place. Upon stepping out of the train, I thought it to be a bland, boring town which it appeared to be. Appearances could be deceptive? Yes, very deceptive. I didn’t know that over the next few days this seemingly hum ble settlement would make me go “wow”! One could spend a whole day loitering about the streets. If pick your way through the main bazaar, you will reach a regal gateway that stands out majestically, a stark contrast to the feeble kutcha houses flanking it. The temple elephant smiles fondly at you, its bells tinkling merrily in the breeze. If you are brave enough, you can let it touch your heads. And there stands The Ramalinga Vilas - a proud historic point of this town. This supposedly was the residence of the Sethupathi Kings who ruled this part of the town. 

We all have friends. Some whom we have literally lived entire eternities with. Some whom we never seemed to have enough time to be with. The latter just whiz by, as quickly as the sigh of the wind, nevertheless leaving a mark behind.    I still remember her. Her oval bindi, of bright crimson, a stark contrast to her unusually fair skin, which bore visible hints of lavish servings of turmeric. Her locks were thick and lustrous, and coiled like a thick rope down to her hips. When she walked, it was with the music of her anklets. A tiny nose ring usually winked at the beholder. This ring, changed its colours to compliment the outfits she wore. She was slight as a reed dancing in the wind. I would tell her one day she would be swept away by a wind too strong.   She was one of the first (and probably the only) friends I got when I changed schools. I thought I knew everything about the town I grew up in since childhood. God probably giggled at my ignorance. Put in a public school, I wa

We all have this one favorite teacher, who is easily the coolest and strongest person we have ever encountered. For me, its my English Teacher... Speeding down the streets as a vague violet glint, Her sharp features held high and erect against wind's sway, With the sun adding to her bronze, a golden tint, My teacher roars away every day. Grinning as she steps over the threshold, With a casual wave, She entwines the class in her mystic hold, Where every pupil knows to learn, to laugh -and to behave. Alive did Shakespeare, Frost and Eyre trod in her classes, Where she took us each day on a voyage, We sped in horses tearing through white, frozen land masses, Yea, scooped up gold, bathing in the rising sun's shimmering gaze. On papers did we slay dragons and beasts, Gripping our swords tight as they rose to the sky, menacing fangs bared, Yea, met rich merchants and their mistresses in feasts, As they drank deeply from glasses, sparkling red w

This is to all the women out there. A dashing fashion icon in teens, who invests painstaking effort to do her eyebrows right, spend hours meditating in-front of wardrobes to pick out the perfect outfit for the evening, work out rigorously to etch stunning curves into their bodies...Are you the same now...or will you be the same after a few decades? Would you love yourself as much?...Just remember, for a woman, true redemption lies in her own self alone.                                               Lost she was, amidst the brown and grey, The harsh grey of the mist that hung, limp and forlorn, The slick brown of the thorns that leered at her from where they lay, Hope dwindling with every step, not knowing where, she walked on. A bitter smile twisted her parched lips, that had once been bewitching to behold, rouged with care, as she recalled, wiping a stray tear, with her finger-tips, how this cursed plot had fascinated her, drawing her close, letting her in…Oh!