Unpacking the suitcases.

To begin a new life is always a nice thing to do.
To move to places...to start all over again...
Especially when your life hasnt been going well. Even otherwise.
And I have been fortunate ( or unfortunate) to keep moving from places to places.
Just when I think, I have set my foot and have started settling down...I have been asked to move on. May be a special message to me from God, that nothing stays for ever? Or not to get attached to anything or anyone beyond the limit to say bye anytime?
anyways, so here I am in the new room. Just finished setting up my room, and my little table. I feel great. not thinking about the wonderful time I may have in this new place, not worrying about adjusting to this entirely new place, but simple, the thought that I have this little space given for myself makes me feel great.

I remember , the first time I moved out of home to a hostel room, it was just one suticase full of clothes, the hand written old letters and birthday cards of dear friends, my treasured diary and the bible that I carried. The suitcase got full with many more things in the hostel with each passing birthday, the numerous letters of friends left behind...the anticipation of those letters is some feeling that cannot be explained or expressed, and even more diaries.

When I left for the first job, the suitcases were more, but again, things werre almost similar. More clothes (even costlier than last time, cause I was moving into a "corporate" world :)),more letters, the same old bible ( but with the difference that the pages of Psalms was also distinguishly seen as read .Thanks to my unseen friend during college days who made me realize there was more to read in the Bible than just the new testament ).

Then it was moving from places to places. Without much difference,the clothes moved on, the Bible moved on, though the letters remained the same( nothing more added sadly!).

And this time, as I unpacked, I was surprised myself to see the items I had to arrange. When did old torn letters and postcards give way to laptop, camera, pendrives, gadgets and all electronic items!
Still, at the corner of the suitcase, there is still the Bible, that has moved on (though read less these days!:().

The mornings...

Morning blues...yes, I have been a victim too...
But still...in the faint memories, there are memories of mornings, sweet and beloved.

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One of the best mornings I remember is during the vacation time back home during my childhood.
We would wake up to the morning news on Akashavani...I dont know if anyone ever heard the news, but it would be going on loud...
You can hear them at the kitchen, amidst the thick smoke from the clay stove. You can hear them at the bathroom, where someone would be always taking bath.
You can hear them at the varanda, where all the elders would be reading the paper sipping the hot coffee, and discussing Mani group and Joseph group politics...
I dotn know if its the news that woke me up those days, but the feeling of waking up to another day of play and fun in a joint family...more than the blues of waking up in the morning, I would treasure thembfor ever.


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The very rare overnight journeys during earlier days in life. May be it was the tour from school, or the vacation where you travel to visit relatives.
As you open your eyes to the cold wind that tickled you, the dawn would be just breaking out and your bus climbing the ever so fresh mountain ranges.
It may soon stop for everyone to have a hot tea, and you can see the small vehicles climbing the hairpin bends that your bus has already conquered.
The mornign was ever so fresh then!


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The exam may have been tough...it may have been easy. But it was the last one. And you wake up , as usual and realize its a two month vacation lying to embrace you with all its warmth. You just sit up on the bed and wonder where to start. Thats an ever so amusing feeling.

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And these days? Staying up awake all night, have you lost the freshness of waking up in the morning? To wake up at so odd hours only to smile at the message on the mobile phone or trying hard to complete the half broken dream , is that what triggers your mornings these days??

A cup of coffee

It was snowing hard in Seattle. As a child, one of her fondest dreams used to be walking in the snow, all alone. But now, everything seemed out of the place. All she wished now was to get back to the cosy warm room and have a cup of coffee.


"How do you drink your coffee so hot? Coffee tastes best when at room temperature." He said.
That was one of their first meetings in the cafe.
"Hmm..atleast this be one topic where I know as much as you?You have it as dull and as cool as always. And I will have it hot. Hot strong and sweet". She smiled.

They always met for coffee. And they discussed coffee. Not that they did not have anything more interesting to talk about, but every time they met over a cup of coffee, they would go on talking so long about the coffee that by the time, it would be time for her to leave.

It was always she who had to take the leave first. Even on the messenger window, their discussions would go on, until she said bye. This time too, it was her who had to take the leave.

As she poured the hot coffee into the cup and left it to to cool, she was wondering....miles away, he must be having his coffee, steaming hot and wondering who taught him to drink coffee so hot!