Merry Christmas!

Carols and cakes are back again!

Turkey and toast, wine and dine,

Trees that shimmer with presents in line -

Here's wishing you and folks, a Christmas divine!

The pierce of silence

Is experiencing that void in life, which -

Can't be defined by words

Can't be fulfilled by love

Can't be felt by empathy

Can't be overcome by strength.

Though it chooses to go away -

Only to come back again.

This void is to stay!

So I'll deal with you my way!

The morning breeze

Early morning breeze -

I'd never missed you so far!

But today when I woke up to the dawn

You passed by me like the softest dream.

Your soothing touch on my dry skin

Felt like I'd never been caressed before

Your mellow whispers into my soul

Left me longing for your company, more!

Your earthy scent and warmth exposed

Made me take a few steps towards you, close!

But as the rains peeped in, I whined and cringed

And forced you out, ending our lovely meeting!

I won't promise you I'd be back again...

But I know you'd be waiting at my door

Waiting to hear the latch unbolt,

Waiting to be ushered into a 'room' that's cold!

A Blind World

I am just getting used to traveling by the Chennai metro rails. Or any metro rails for that matter.

We shifted our house a week ago close to Mambalam and I have learnt that the easiest and fastest way to commute to office is by the train. By which other mode of transport can you cover 10 kms in less than 15 minutes, in Chennai?

Moreover there were no traffic signals. No early morning bargaining on auto fares. A first class season ticket would cost me a meagre Rs. 320 and I am good to go for a whole month.

Yet, I was sulking this morning. It was a morning to get cosy after the heavy showers. I overslept.

And was late for work.

As I de-trained at the Egmore station, cursing the rains, which had turned the platforms into a dingy, stinking mess – I saw a fellow-passenger.

A blind man who with the help of his long cane, kept touching the platform every now and then, was trying to figure out whether the next step was safe. I was amused.

And soon, I was following him.

I wanted to help.

However, typical of the educated, tech-savvy, value conscious, urban adult I was, I wanted to make sure he deserved my time and attention.

I waited to ensure that he was blind indeed.

His cane went on tapping it’s way into a filthy dustbin and then came out, as if revolted by the stench.

‘Hmmm… must definitely be blind then’.

I wanted to help.

But then, a website tells me that the train I came in, has the capacity to carry 1580 passengers at a time. So, why me?

As I was lost deep in thoughts, I saw a good Samaritan help the blind man go up the stairs. The steep and narrow staircases are a daily nightmare to me in spite of having a corrected 6 by 6 vision, thanks to my spectacles! However, the good Samaritan seemed to be in a hurry and left the man half way through. Meanwhile, the daily conflict between passengers trying to go up and down the stairs was reaching its climax. People kept pushing or pulling each other as they held on to their larger-than-life luggage.

I struggled to keep up.

The blind man had reached the top of the stairs and climbed on to the bridge, which connected all the platforms. He continued at a slow pace, tapping away with his cane. Farther down stood another blind man, begging for his daily alms. Someone, I was used to seeing and ignoring every day.

The first blind man was walking right into the latter one, who seemed completely unaware of the imminent danger. I thought they may collide. So did everyone else, yet they just walked by.

I wanted to help.

But, then the two men somehow knew. They gave a cry of acknowledgment to each other and the first one stepped to the side. And continued his way ahead.

I could be a spectator no more. I went ahead and held the man by his shoulder. And tried to show him the way. He immediately stopped tapping his stick, trusting me – a complete stranger, to lead.

I asked him where he was headed to.

‘Anna Salai. How about you?’

‘Egmore’.

I kept pressing his shoulder and mumbling to turn left, right, walk straight and he followed like an obedient student. Suddenly, he offered me his palm and said,

‘Can you hold my hand instead?’

The feminist in me was awakened. Why would he want to hold my hand? Does he want to feel the softness of my palm and derive some sort of sexual pleasure (is there any?) from it? Or is he part of some gang which kidnaps, rapes or kills vulnerable girls like me? Will he drag me into a black mini-van, abduct me and turn me into a blind beggar myself?

I shrugged at the thought of it. Yet, I reluctantly offered him my hand.

As he held on, I noticed that his hands were weak. That hold to him was only an assurance that I would not let him fall. It told him when to stop and when to slow down. It told him that I wouldn’t just abandon him half way, but would get him to where he wanted to go.

‘Where do I leave you?’

‘Please take me to the bus stop just outside the station. The bus numbers are 27D and 21A.’

I guided him out of the station, as amused onlookers stared at us – the unusual duo.

A '21A' bus was just pulling out of the bus stop. I desperately waved trying to tell them that a blind man wanted to board the bus. The driver smirked and sped away.

I waited with him, hand-in-hand, until the next bus came in. People swarmed around the doors, to be the first ones to board and alight. We were lost in the chaos. I somehow managed to let him get on to the bus and then let go. He was lost into the crowd of passengers.

No words were exchanged.

And I walked on.

I did not feel bad though.

The blind man had no privileges.

For, we all live in a blind world.

SOS

Lord, heed our prayers

and keep us strong

Help us follow you

and lead those around

We are tiny souls,

yet challenges surround

Please hold our hand,

please don't let us drown!

I will be back!

Pull me, hate me

Or even shoot me down

But make sure friends

You've really knocked me dead.

For, if I can breathe...

I'll be back on stage

Fighting with every bit

Until I win your heart again!

Choices

My choices, sigh!

Are only two -

Either walk away blind

Or to take a knife.

I do not want to kill

For I'd vomit with guilt

But I don't want to stay

I'm of no help anyway!

What do I do!

I just want to live

A happy full life

Until I am called!

I do not want to die

At the hands of a dictator

Nor while shredding him to pieces

With millions of spectators!

I want to walk free on my street

Without killing or being killed

I just want to live a full life

A happy full life, without fear!

Blues.

I miss you.

Every day... every night -

In every moment that's dull or bright.

In every step, in every fall -

I only wish, with you I could walk.

In every tear dropped, in every smile wide -

How I wish you'd be by my side!

In every dream, in every prayer -

I seek your happiness, warmth and care.

Hands that give, receive.

I am the provider.

I will keep giving.

With my sweat, blood and flesh.

And when it ceases,

with my soul.

For I am the provider.

Keep walking Geethu!

I joined my first job over 5 years ago.

12.06.2006 to be precise. Today, 5 years, 2 months and 19 days later, I have come home after having quit my fourth job. I get to relax over the weekend to prepare myself to join a fifth firm. This would be the third change in my career - from banking & finance to advertising, now to marketing.

How do I feel?

Awesome.

And perhaps awful.

My mom was a nurse. She joined as one. Worked for over 30 years and quit as one.

Perhaps nurses can't shift their careers. That is what they have learnt. Injections and anti-biotics. How different can it be!

But I am different. After all, I am an MBA graduate. I get to choose.

Sigh! Pathetic attempts to justify myself. Not working.

My shift from banking to advertising was easy. It was a welcome change. In advertising, I did not have to bear the grunt of trying to sell a loan to someone who absolutely could not afford it, just so that I could meet my sales targets.

And 6 months later, I did not have to call that same 'someone' and demand to pay EMIs and threaten them with dire consequences, this time to meet my recovery targets.

Advertising was different.

Though my hopes of meeting stars, my notion that daily work meant glitz, glamour, sheer fun and partying, went down the drains within the very first week. What awaited instead, were tons of survey questionnaires waiting to be administered to unfriendly, unwelcoming people on streets; collating, understanding and tabulating data; figuring out what those numbers meant; drawing innumerous pie-charts and deriving conclusions that gave solutions to address the business problem that was raised. That was just one part of the story.

Managing angry clients who would not flicker an eyelid as they said "Get out Sir!" (to the extent I began believing that I did look like a guy); arguing with 'efficient' marketing teams who started conversations only with 'Our CEO expects to see it now', 'Our VP has to use it in the presentation tomorrow morning'; managing 'angrier' creative teams who were already sitting on endless 'pathetic' briefs and now despised me for being an inefficient servicing kid who was not even able to negotiate for some more time, so that they could come up with an award winning idea - was the other part of the story.

Imminent deadlines.

Sleepless nights.

Lean pay cheques.

Scream matches.

RTBs. RGBs. TRPs. TGs. GSMs. Jpegs. PDFs.

Yet, I loved advertising. Despite all its madness, I loved my job.

But now I realize I am ready for a change. Yet again.

I do not know what the future has in store for me. Whatever it is, I am willing to go where life chooses to take me.

So I move on. Once again.

Wish me all the best!

Lost and lonely!

The sky has not been bright

The rains too are not in sight

It's long since I've seen a starry night

Sigh! I've not been in the best of plights!

Yet I know if I'd put up a fight

It would not be for the rains, nor a starry night

For me the only thing that could set this right

Is a kiss from you light and a hug mighty tight!

Tides

Salty tides keep passing by

How you'd wish one would stop a while

And let you know it has come a long way

Just to be with you!

3 Strangers

3 strangers -

Bound by fate.

1, in the canal,

2, walking down the lane.

A mild bark, fell on deaf ears

A cry for help, in vain.

While passers-by, kept passing by -

2 little boys stopped a while.

Only to be soon united by

A bond stronger than love

Care for a fellow being in pain

Who struggled on it’s own.

The 3 of them, pulled each other out

From the vicious circle of 'self'

After smiling once at each other's face

For their lonely walks, they left.

Solace

Your words soothe my hurting soul

Like no prayer or psalm has, ever before

If only I could return that experience of joy -

To let you know what you mean to me, my boy!

When life beckons!

Another few lines to Prabhakar, now my friend. Inspired yet again by his poem

http://mindfulperceptron.blogspot.com/2011/06/living-on-my-own.html

Life moved on, even when you died

Leaving me nothing, but sore eyes to cry

Today, though agonies have followed me in line,

I pledge upon you not to take time to whine!

My duty calls me to save, to secure and set free

Hopeless, helpless frames, trodden from misery -

I will share my wisdom to brighten their morrow

And for their smiles, I vow to give up my sorrows!

Existence through Survival

On my window sill, perched is a winged being

Unhappy to be sharing space with another form of life

Perplexed as I am, at what my next move might be -

Like it, I do not know what it is like to be bereft of being.

They say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder -

So I behold, and obscurity I see

Chaos and rivalry makes me cringe in my space

Hiding from circles – invitingly tainted.

Yet beauty I had seen amidst the chaotic life

Life – a symphony orchestrated at his free will

Though some notes were beyond my taste

I try to nod along, as if imbibing its grace.

My palms capture the monsoon after the blazing summer

Dark skies are torn open by the mighty thunders

It mellows down, pouring in as cold welcome showers

For halting hectic lives, it also makes some scream.

The earthy fragrance which follows induces in me – sleep

And paves its way smoothly within my tired frame – deep

I see myself relax, though my silence loudens

Embracing my soul it blocks out even seldom words that peep.

My life, a duet, maybe composed by time

But sung by me – and I hadn’t followed the rhymes

I tweaked a few tones, I’ve upset the hymn

Wrongly pitched a few notes - maybe missed a few lines!

A silent sigh somehow escapes my pursed lips

As the hurt which instilled it, eats into my will

Though I know I had tried to face it like a man -

I had never run away nor brought about any harm.

I hold no account for the countless days, bygone

Nor try to justify reckless moments, the past has now worn.

I know I have had my razing revenges – few

But I also know I have stood up for all my deeds, lewd.

I have created many bonds for my kids to take along

And broken a few too, for which into pillows I have sobbed

I may not have lived life, the way it was meant to be –

But I know I have lived it true, so now I recede!

Wordles (doodles in words!)

I missed the Independence Day celebrations in 1947 by 35 years.

But I do go thru the exact same emotions the freedom fighters must have felt...

.

.

.

every week, Fridays at 5 (to be precise).

Saddening. Maddening. Silence.

Dedicating this poem to a man, I haven't met. But would like to some day.

Do read his poem here to know why:

http://mindfulperceptron.blogspot.com/2011/05/two-glances-speak-but-silence-remains.html

Two loving souls were bound by fate

Now one remains, he is destined to wait

The other rests in peace, away from her mate

Yet he awaits her return, counting minutes, hours and dates!

Memories, they say, are the hardest to erase

Some take to drinking, some choose other ways

Here is a soul who has penned down in phrase

Words that bleed emotions, yet never cease to amaze

My dear friend, to you am a stranger

But I wish I'd know you, to offer you some relief

In a world that has no time for anything that breathes

I'm moved to see you, hold on to your wife's wreath

You teach me that true love lasts a lifetime

Its not bound by age, nor sticks to a chime

You truly are a lover, one of a kind

Every girl would love to have you by their side

I pray your pain is eased with time, as you write

And that you are freed from all bonds that keep you tied

I hope you'd find love again, maybe less divine

And the gods keep you together to explore the world, long and wide!