Like the lonely melody of the flute in the moonlight
You hear it coming, nearer than never before.
Like the whispering wind on a cold mountain top,
You feel it coming, closer than ever before.
Not a soul cries for the faded rose
Withered in a silent cold desert night
Blown by the wind, buried in the sand
Lost in the unknown dunes of destiny
Never talked about, never thought about
Ever again in the tales of time.
Not a soul cries for the wounded sparrow
Dying beneath the crumbling autumn leaves
Soaked in rain, bleeding to death
Lost in the unknown harvest of destiny
Never talked about, never thought about
Ever again in the tales of time.
Not a soul cries for the weeping lover
Mourning over the dying nihilist
Suffering in soul, agony in heart
Lost in the unknown battles of destiny
Never talked about, never thought about
Ever again in the tales of time.
Like a soldier guarding the falling fort,
Standing helpless, yet ferocious in the battle ground
It’s a battle lost, to be forgotten in history
Yet you fight to death, lest you be called the coward
Down by the arrow, lies the wretched soldier
Lost in the unknown whirls of destiny
Never talked about, never thought about
Ever again in the tales of time.
Aug 23, 2010
Aug 15, 2010
Jul 21, 2010
Hope
They say hope is a good thing
But there is a good thing about losing hope too. And that is that you lose your fear too!
May 15, 2010
Its all about tiramisu...or may be it is not...
Tiramisu is one of the most popular Italian desserts, made from lady finger biscuits and strong coffee layered with a whipped mixture of egg cheese and sugar and topped with cocoa. Someone who has ever had a tiramisu will definitely treasure its distinctive flavor, and would be able to distinguish it anytime later.
I have not tasted the perfect or authentic tiramisu but I treasured the idea. And I was sure I would love it. And I waited for the perfect time.Desperately.
So I walked into this so-hyped ice cream parlour.People told me it was good, it was the best place where I could expect to have a taste of tiramisu. I was given a piece of cake. It was a chocolate cake, it had coffee powder topping and whipped creame, and they called it tiramisu.
It is really good, it is delicious, but ...but it is not tiramisu.
And ...I wanted a tiramisu.
I have not tasted the perfect or authentic tiramisu but I treasured the idea. And I was sure I would love it. And I waited for the perfect time.Desperately.
So I walked into this so-hyped ice cream parlour.People told me it was good, it was the best place where I could expect to have a taste of tiramisu. I was given a piece of cake. It was a chocolate cake, it had coffee powder topping and whipped creame, and they called it tiramisu.
It is really good, it is delicious, but ...but it is not tiramisu.
And ...I wanted a tiramisu.
Apr 27, 2008
Fragrance of memories...
Fragrances…more than what they are, they are more about what they bring to us.
The people, places, memories , feelings associated with them.
Written many times, many places, I take the tag too, here.
The first rains on the parched earth…this might be the most clichéd fragrance liked by almost all. What is it about the smell of the earth at the first rain that is so enchanting?
May be it emphasizes the saying that we come from, we return to and we all belong to the earth. Even I don’t know what it is about, but it takes my mood to a different level, which I may describe as mystic?
The fragrance of the starched clothes, dried in the sun. May be one of the sweetest memories from my childhood would be helping my mother dry her long cotton sarees in the sun.
Once starched, the saree is stretched out with me holding one end of it and mother at the other end and drying out in the sun. The modern day instant starches or the drier machines may have made life easier , but that sweet memory lingers along with the fragrance. And may be that could be one reason, I feel pictures of clothlines with clothes stretched out, a beautiful one.
The smell of coriander powder. The most basic ingredient to many of the Kerala dishes. The reminder of feasts..Christmas, Easter, special days. I know, some people may think it quite queer to consider the mundane smell of something so trivial as one of my favorites. But for me, the smell of Coriander is the first sign of something good in the making. The delicacy, however good it may smell, however good it may taste, the smell of the coriander from where it starts captures me more.
Strong coffee. Along with the fragrance of the coffee comes the feel of its addiction. May be its because I am addicted so much to coffee that I love the smell of coffee beans and fresh strong coffee. Be it to console my depressed mind, or to enjoy something sweet secretly, or to enjoy the rain, or to let out my anger over something, or to celebrate my solitude…I depend so much on coffee…and hence, may be, the smell of coffee enthralls me.
The smell of Cuticura powder. The smell of my mother. It may have been a wedding, the Sunday morning church or the first show at the cinema. The few occasions she gets ready to go out. Fresh from bath , sun dried saree and the cuticura powder. It’s the warmth, it’s the presence, it’s the touch. Its mother.
Rubber sheets put up under the chimney to be dried. I don’t know how many of you could recognize this smell…but for me it’s the smell of vacation. The smell of summer. The smell of my childhood. The smell of my roots. The dark rooms in the house and the dark courtyards outside. The kitchen where the fire and the smoke never died down. The bananas and the rubber sheets tied up above the stove to be dried. The togetherness of a joint family.
Medimix soap – Well, I have never been able to keep away those little craziness and this would be one of them. I feel the fragrance of medimix soap is one of the most romantic one I know of. No, I do not have any memory to associate with the smell , or any people…but for no reason, I love its fragrance.
Frankincense – {I googled the term } – Chirstmas night. I have been to the midnight service in church only a few times in my life but there is nothin else that comes to my mind as strong as the memory of the christmas night at church , with the smell of frankincense. The cold night, the sound of crackers and carols…the christmas star…the chirstmas crib…the twinkiling small bulbs and the content mind as I kneel down…pure bliss.
I may have missed so many of my memories…and hence so many fragrances…the smell of new books, the smell of slate pencils…the smell of Rexona and Cinthol soaps, the smell of broot, the fragrance of jasmine flowers, the smell of nutmeg, the smell of amrutanjan are all memories…old and new…fresh and torn apart…may be if not for the fragrances, I would lost the memories too, long ago…
Anyone want to continue?...
The people, places, memories , feelings associated with them.
Written many times, many places, I take the tag too, here.
The first rains on the parched earth…this might be the most clichéd fragrance liked by almost all. What is it about the smell of the earth at the first rain that is so enchanting?
May be it emphasizes the saying that we come from, we return to and we all belong to the earth. Even I don’t know what it is about, but it takes my mood to a different level, which I may describe as mystic?
The fragrance of the starched clothes, dried in the sun. May be one of the sweetest memories from my childhood would be helping my mother dry her long cotton sarees in the sun.
Once starched, the saree is stretched out with me holding one end of it and mother at the other end and drying out in the sun. The modern day instant starches or the drier machines may have made life easier , but that sweet memory lingers along with the fragrance. And may be that could be one reason, I feel pictures of clothlines with clothes stretched out, a beautiful one.
The smell of coriander powder. The most basic ingredient to many of the Kerala dishes. The reminder of feasts..Christmas, Easter, special days. I know, some people may think it quite queer to consider the mundane smell of something so trivial as one of my favorites. But for me, the smell of Coriander is the first sign of something good in the making. The delicacy, however good it may smell, however good it may taste, the smell of the coriander from where it starts captures me more.
Strong coffee. Along with the fragrance of the coffee comes the feel of its addiction. May be its because I am addicted so much to coffee that I love the smell of coffee beans and fresh strong coffee. Be it to console my depressed mind, or to enjoy something sweet secretly, or to enjoy the rain, or to let out my anger over something, or to celebrate my solitude…I depend so much on coffee…and hence, may be, the smell of coffee enthralls me.
The smell of Cuticura powder. The smell of my mother. It may have been a wedding, the Sunday morning church or the first show at the cinema. The few occasions she gets ready to go out. Fresh from bath , sun dried saree and the cuticura powder. It’s the warmth, it’s the presence, it’s the touch. Its mother.
Rubber sheets put up under the chimney to be dried. I don’t know how many of you could recognize this smell…but for me it’s the smell of vacation. The smell of summer. The smell of my childhood. The smell of my roots. The dark rooms in the house and the dark courtyards outside. The kitchen where the fire and the smoke never died down. The bananas and the rubber sheets tied up above the stove to be dried. The togetherness of a joint family.
Medimix soap – Well, I have never been able to keep away those little craziness and this would be one of them. I feel the fragrance of medimix soap is one of the most romantic one I know of. No, I do not have any memory to associate with the smell , or any people…but for no reason, I love its fragrance.
Frankincense – {I googled the term } – Chirstmas night. I have been to the midnight service in church only a few times in my life but there is nothin else that comes to my mind as strong as the memory of the christmas night at church , with the smell of frankincense. The cold night, the sound of crackers and carols…the christmas star…the chirstmas crib…the twinkiling small bulbs and the content mind as I kneel down…pure bliss.
I may have missed so many of my memories…and hence so many fragrances…the smell of new books, the smell of slate pencils…the smell of Rexona and Cinthol soaps, the smell of broot, the fragrance of jasmine flowers, the smell of nutmeg, the smell of amrutanjan are all memories…old and new…fresh and torn apart…may be if not for the fragrances, I would lost the memories too, long ago…
Anyone want to continue?...
Apr 13, 2008
It was some days of dreaded silence. When I tried hiding from the world, hiding from the problems, hiding from relations, hiding from people and hiding from myself. At the end of which, I realize, it doesn't help a bit. Unless they are faced and shoved away, they don't go away by themselves.
So at the end of the introspections, I declare for myself, I don't deserve to stay in the ditch for ever. Why one mourn, when the world celebrates. Why one stay away , when the world parties. So here I am, to join the party.
Now, all I wish is to get back. Get back and get into those roads, that belong to me.Go for a long walk, get a chocolate or a coffee for myself , stare at the high class life across the road and get lost in my dreams. I need to celebrate....just celebrate.
So at the end of the introspections, I declare for myself, I don't deserve to stay in the ditch for ever. Why one mourn, when the world celebrates. Why one stay away , when the world parties. So here I am, to join the party.
Now, all I wish is to get back. Get back and get into those roads, that belong to me.Go for a long walk, get a chocolate or a coffee for myself , stare at the high class life across the road and get lost in my dreams. I need to celebrate....just celebrate.
Feb 28, 2008
Kill them!
When does one lose the right to live?
-When one ceases to support oneself.
When does one lose the right to happiness?
-When one ceases to amuse oneself.
When does one lose the right to hope?
-When one ceases to live for one's dreams.
And what to do with those who have lost all these rights?
-Kill them! Kill them hard!
-When one ceases to support oneself.
When does one lose the right to happiness?
-When one ceases to amuse oneself.
When does one lose the right to hope?
-When one ceases to live for one's dreams.
And what to do with those who have lost all these rights?
-Kill them! Kill them hard!
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