Down memory Lane

My sister whispering her  standard line
 to me ...
'Don't act too smart' ;) :)

Come Sunday evening and a ghostly pallor casts itself  -of a seemingly impermanent week ahead ! Time offers no relief as well by going ahead faster than normal, defying all science.

Cut to so called "good ol' school days" - While the burden of paying bills and the obeisance to a clueless goal-less life which has become the order of today ( at least yours truly feels so!) was absent then,  school obviously had its fair share of grief to offer. (not really depicting cynicism about everything in life here- but just an articulation of comparative relief from an individual for whom school was a myopic "i need to discover the recipe to decode every single exam- be it a math quiz or even a (daunting?) needlework/croshay exercise" ) . But yes- when the onerous task of lugging a school bag , was offset by an unexpected holiday announced right at the hallowed gates, the sheer thrill of walking back home now with a surprisingly weightless bag is inexplicable :)!

Cut to something simpler. The delight of a serendipitous 'five hundred rupees-find' in one of your neglected purse nooks!

Well...something's never change! They are some of our perennial favourties trangressing time, age ,gender!

Why orphan out music ?:) Especially since the word itself can evoke a multitude of response-credited to its multifaceted personality. For some it's life's elixir- period! For others it's peace of mind, escape from reality, soul sister to a vodka moment ;) or perhaps-----just memories! Yes-music & memories i believe are hard to decouple! It happens both way. The instance you find yourself in reminds you of a song or sometimes the instant you hear a song your mind revisits a particular phase or moment of your life! And its not JUST the song that does the trick- but the song being there at the RIGHT time ! They just do a Rajni i suppose-Naan eppo varuven eppadi varuvennu yarukkum theriyathu...eppo varunumo appo correctaa varuven...! For those of us who appreciate this it doesn't take a great deal to figure out those evergreen ones associated with a mood(swing :) , occasion in life or another person! 
A misty drive down a rocky terrain, a silenced audience slumped in the car, with  steady pattering rain against the glass takes me back to Anil Kapoor's 'foreboding of some uncertainty' So Gaya Yeh Jahaan. A drive through nature's plush green with a cool breeze whizzing past and my heart strums a Na Jaane Mere..Dil ko kya ho gaya.  A rugged drive, soaring humidity and a "what's life all about" introspection wraps me with a Yeh Dil ..Deewana .. Ah! (yeah! you needn't be necessarily smitten by the love-bug to reminisce this song). A gush of melancholy , 'life's not making sense', 'there's no purpose to it' and the playlist that compliments this is endless ;) - Hey Ajnabee, Sapno se Bhare Naina, Tu Jahaan mein wahaan, Tanhaayeeee, Kal ho na ho ( yes! the 'sad version' in side B of the tape ), Tujhe bhulaa diya..ho...,Do pal rukha.....  A rush of adrenaline, good times to cheer for and it's a foot-tapping Tu toh ainvayi ainvayi, Uyirae Uyirae, Oru Maalai, Dance pe Chance maar le. Well i'm normal too! So, the one-off Cupid arrows that manage to strike past (clearly not struck yet ! ) twang a Roja Jaaneman, Yeh haseen vaadiyan [ do these two songs need to necessarily be mentioned in the same breath always!], Mere haath mein, Suraj Hua Madham, Pehla Pehla Pyaar hai, Chupke se, Chaand ne kuch kaha, Sambhala hain maine.., Khuda Jaaane ke.....and the off-late, bitten by Tamil song bug of Hossana...![ Intend devoting a separate discourse on  this sudden Tamil song infatuation which has consumed most of my mind space in recent times! ]. 

And it's a cocktail of reasons why these songs have established their current identity with the said situation- The background score,  the lyrics, the attitude of the singer, the visualisation of the song in the movie and sometimes.... there's no real reason! They just happen to be there befriending you, adding a bit of flavour to the concoction called life, taking you Down memory Lane....... 

GUrrrrrrGaoN Musings......Not all things in life need make sense!!

To my

Kutty Poochi,

Baby Jun, Junnu Kutty, Junnaboy

J

Hope you feel happier than what you look… reading this some day!!!

For being persistent enough in calling me by not my name…….

Love,

Siyaaaa

Waking up to a rather insistent “brrrr”; evoking “wee-wily-winkie” to down a bottle of milk; staring into nothingness and calling out for a car; watching toys being hurled around and responding to a call- for -action diaper situation were some of the unplanned getaways of my trip. I entered in and we hugged each other as if taking off from where we left.

Subsequently it was about getting updated. I figured I had missed pretty significant stuff- New cars had been added to his repository of toys, he had a new shoe with a car drawn on it, (managing to convince me that it made a “brrrrr”), his books had doubled in his little box and interesting titles such as “Things that move”/ “Goldilocks and three bears” had been added to the collection.  The books played a dual role. Not only were they used for reading, but also served to rest his tired feet, while he halted during many of his trample-around-the-house trips.

Barely 15 months, but he was proficient enough to coerce me into reading out to him his favourite chapter in his favourite book. And I couldn’t escape JUST reading. My tone had to necessarily be peppered with relevant and adequate modulations and inflections. For instance- the picture of the school bus- required me to accentuate it as schooooooool bus and I COULD be rewarded with a cheerful giggle if I also augmented it with a “and it goes Pom Pom…” The flip side of not doing so is not too severe though- apart from visible anger demonstrated via grinding of his 4 teeth, an animated movement of his hands , all set to violently land on my face, head, stomach-well pretty much anywhere! My skin was soon to be punctuated with traces of red marks attributed to his nails. Kisses needed to be persistently demanded with love & again if he “chose” to be gracious enough , occasionally I was the recipient of one sloppy whoosh of his tongue. Sheer excitement followed everytime I got hold of the car keys. It would range from a little jig around the spot, to dragging his “weighed-down-by-diapers” tiny bottom to get his shoes. I would unquestioningly have to then assist him to slide his feet into them (mind you! YOU do get chided/grunted at if HIS leg doesn’t go in seamlessly!) . The outcome is worth a watch though. A scurry to the lift and an unparalled  joyous wait for the lift to negotiate its way through 17 floors. Getting the car out of the garage was a tough battle- with  his suspicious eyes doubting that I might just leave him behind.

Time at home was no less colorful. The house often drew the semblance of one that was rattled- vessels strewn around; food in food out was the order of the day- could be poop or could be his fingers artistically at work  inside his mouth drawing out the not-so relishable pieces. Piano lessons (read inflicting damage on the keys) was part of his agenda IF it was part of mine. He had to totter to where I sat , straining his tiny hands towards me to lift him and place him on my lap.

And then it’s time for night to descend  and for wee-wili-winkie to be reminded of his obligations…only soon to be forgotten….only to switch of the lights and prop a bottle of milk in baby’s mouth….only to caress his feather like hair and plant many a soft kiss….only to sing …..

Rain Rain go away

Come again another day

Rain Rain go to Spain

Never show your face again J

Well- not all things in life need make sense  J

Of Castles.....

Of clenched fists and first encounters the odyssey begins. What could be aptly christened “The battle of birth” remains anonymous, for the innocent mind has nothing to compare. Unsullied, anew with vigor the move can only be forward – no strappings of a ‘debilitating past’ to reverse gears!

I grope- I lay the walls of my little house

To be the aegis of my dreams

Clasping onto sand with mighty will

Of roots founded on dreams of beneath-your–breath wishes, of unaccomplished deeds, of castles…..

Then there are the phases-(in)significant milestones building over each other ostensibly leading me to the portico of a coveted destination- of myriad possibilities, of hard to quell desires, of never to be reneged pronouncements- unleashing the floodgates of what I covertly guarded-of murmured wishes, of within-my-grasp deeds, also of castles….

I burnish the walls of my mansion

Guarding it- akin a well-kept secret

I elevate the bar to scale new heights

Naïve of the roots that held the daunting beams

The evening rays streaked in through my castle- casting a deep hue over the scarlet baked bricks. Was it a glow of satisfaction or was it life’s reminder of bricks aged over the years? I stood as an owner of my dreams –my castle a paragon of accomplishment. I clasped my coat on tightly – the wind circled fiercely throwing the gauntlet to noisy gulls. I felt the ground beneath my feet quiver- I held onto the keys of my castle- but hither do I take it? My castle- the epicenter of my life was the protagonist of the finale…A lifetime spent on building the walls had transpired----the roots lay exposed to nature’s sojourn to life

If only I knew the root of labour

Lay in a “breath”

As life’s only gift is life itself

Of thoughts that build the frame of mind…

Of Castles ….Weathered away by time

A String....of Thoughts?

Strings!