The Pebbles Along The Shore....

Been ages....
They didnt look much intriguing...After all they were just pebbles,they were never sought out,never created for a purpose,they were born out of the random turbulence in the earth ages back.,polished by the land and the sea,their love and war-sometimes both and sometimes neither...
They were the pebbles along the shore...When did I realize I was walking over them?Of course not at the start of my stroll...Where they always there or was it only me not seeing them?
I was careful not to pick up the beautiful ones,I had by then lost faith in beauty...Some were still sharp...and they cut,but the blood didnt have the same colour as it used to have...and the pain,it didnt sting either...
When did I grow obssessed with them?not wanting to throw them away even when the shoulders ached...My arms were thin and the bag was heavy...What were they made of anyway?
What do I do with them now?stare at them as always?yes,they did sparkle...someone had told they didnt have life,may b they dont...coz they never fail to keep my secrets...
The crumpled lumps of hard sand...some broken,some lost...

PHENOMENAL WOMEN...By Maya Angelou...

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
The palm of my hand,
The need for my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

To My Alchemist....A bday wish...

never has life been so new,
nevr has it been so real,
nevr has life been so raw,
nevr has it been so truly mine,

but for each moment it made me cry,
each moment it made me laugh,
each moment it caused me to linger on,
and each moment it left me void,

why do i owe an ode to a little demon,
that "blessed be the moment thy were born"

SHE WAS...SILENCE...

Silence-she was alone wen he struck-the storm,how do v categorise him?a villian?a hero?no,he was neither,he was just the storm,he never hesistated,coz he was hollow within,he had nuthin 4 himself,but he had evryding to giv others...wen he was fierce the fury,the terror,the agony...wen he was calm the peace,the faith,the hope...
Silence-she loved colours,the dark,the bright,she nevr dreamt of being one,she caressed them without wanting to wear them,she forgot the million eclipses she hd seen wen she stood in the hue of a rainbow...then she knew she was beautiful coz it ws selfless....
She saw the colours coz he showed her dem;he showed her,
d dark ones-wen he was angry nd had killed many,she trembled in der vicious glare,but she touched dem cz she knew dey wer nuthin but colours,dey tasted venomous...
d musical ones-wen he returned after dancin,over d sea,over d mountains,she smiled at dem,dey tasted bright...
She knew she was blooming,for sumone tld her dat silence always reigned aftr storm,dat dey wer tied...she knew it was a lie cz she was always alone,no1 knew dat she existed,no1 knew her music cz she ws nt loud enuf...but stil she loved colours,more dan before,dey wer new to her nd she was new to dem...
Then it happened,at d dusk of d day,she told him dat al dose colours had a taste...he dint belive her,he dint want her to know dem more dan him...he nevr undrstud hw she cud taste dem wen he cud nly see dem...he ws strong but not enuf to break his own norms...
And den he walked away cz she ws not quiet nymore...
She wanted to scream,but she cudnt...coz she was silence...

SHADOW...

kiss my life off my lips,
wen its u even death wud b serene,
the pain ur givin me is killin me,
but if its for d pain ur givin me-
then dyin is beautiful...

d wings u gave me made me believe,
dat i cud fly til i breathed into hollow...
dat mundane is forgiven nd divine is forsaken,
dat u dnt hear voices,u dnt c trespassers,
ul jus know dat ur alive..dat ur alive..

den i began askin,to silence nd den to me,
wedr u really wer,or i saw a shadow?
frm my forlorn visions,wher nly shadows survived,
cz evrydin else ws jus too bright nd so,
i gave u a mind but nevr a face...

stil i hear a careless whisper-
"kiss my life off my lips..."
but wich im sure is nt frm me,
cz shadows dnt talk nd im one...
al dey do is believe...nd follow....

A PEN,FEW PAPERS AND A CRACK HEAD PART-3

Next morning to my surprise i didnt feel like an emotional fool,as I always use to the next day,after I cry.So this meant that there was something with the whole enterprise that seriously struck some chords within.The time ,till now has passed on quite normally,infact better than that,because I did whatever i planned to,and if you know me well,then u will also know why I make such a big deal about it.
So,now my imagination being the wild pelican it is(ya,pelican with larger beaks than you can ever imagine)is working out a conversation with her,if i were in her hostel now either lying upside down or performing somersaults in her bed,with her continous shoutings to warn me that she'l rip my head off if i dont stop acting childish because she hates it and for the same reason I love it…
Me:"Why the bloody hell,do I keep missing you whenever I feel something worthwhile happening in my life?It's ok,if i think of you in bad times,because i want to brood over my fate,act sulky and want to irritate someone,merely to lessen my despair with the saddistic pleasure of troubling a composed person,for which the best choice is you.But then why at the dead of the night,when i should be dreaming of some hunk was I thinking of you and that too without any obvious reasons?I'm either abnormally emotional or psychic or this entire friendship thing is becoming an emotional addiction for me or you are a seriously seducive scorpion,as you say about your starsign or is it a sunsign?"
She:"Pity on you,look at the reasons you'v come up with.All of them equally stupid and alienated to practical beings"
Me:"who told we are practical beings?"
She:"Oh,please!you might not be,but I'm.I dont evidently belive in all this intimacy things,though i show off at times,just for fun and send you some cheesy sms that too mislead by you.And who do you think you are?Paulo Coelho?"
Me:"Why,Paulo Coehlo likes jumping between two beds,like me doing now,completely ignoring the probability of slipping my leg and cracking my neck,just for the pleasure of feasting on your scowling face and angry glances?Wow,he's some adventurous man then.No wonder,you wanted to marry him,even at his eighties..."
She:Oh ya,do you hav any problem with it?You are such a pig.No point arguing with you.Get lost,I'v got better things to do."
Me:You get lost first and i'v got betterer things to do,and tell Sunu sorry from me for ruining her bed and that I'l clean it up for her."
She:And,mine?"
Me:tell your ....... to do it for you"
She:oh ya i will,you ....... , ....... & ........"
THE REST CLASSIFIED

The dialogues wernt pure fiction contrary to the d rest of d write up(autobiographical tinges certainly do add to d marketing values)And about the real reason behind this "roots calling"kind of write out .As usual i wanted someone to creatively express my inspirational woes which again wont survive this night.And who else in this whole wide world would be deranged enough to listen to all this crap other than her,digest it and talk as if I'm a genius or an idiot(depending on d choice of subject nd our existing moodswings)then quite effortlessly forget all about it after a tight night's sleep.But then why should I waste the rest of my night's sleep writing this trash about us(see,Im already feeling stupid),when I know very well that owing to my frequent moodswings and haughty nature & her ever changing ever fluctuating character and weird insights,this is going to be brutally laughed at and butchered into pieces,sooner or later...
Gosh,I do seriously miss her....dont I?Even if its for selfish reasons?......

P.S.courtesy-a diary entry sometime last May

nd d stuff is pretty made up nd exaggerated enuf to make it interestin wid nly slight resemblences to living characters...reality isnt dis glossy 4 sure...

A PEN,FEW PAPERS AND A CRACK HEAD-PART 2

This time it was sumdin very important to her.So obviously,I too wanted to join.But exactly as it happens,too often in my life,I never get the things which satisfies two conditions simultaneously-which I want badly and which I'm more or less sure of getting,atleast by being incorrigible.So this too slipped of my hand,as if it was prone to.My parents couldn't digest the idea of me,a 19&3/4 year old delicate innocent girl(just their misunderstanding),cruising her way to Kottayam,all alone and she,my friend,being the heartless creature as I mentioned before,with her so called nutty principles about relations and her sick but stern attitude towards those small things in life,which are usually "dont care matters" for normal people like us,dint prove to b much of a help at d time.Consequently I was not allowed to go alone and was left alone to fret at home.
Friday night was hell relived.I had introduced the topic before my father in all sorts of style,I could think of-sympathetic,arrogant,pitiful,demanding,indifferent,sublime,mature...but he seemed to be least empathetic towards my longing weeping heart.Instead of caressing my wounded feelings,my parents chose to leave me alone to figure out and cope up with the reality on my own.And this after some days of the calamity,finally when peace reigns,I realise is the best way to teach me anything.
But that night,even though the last ray of hope seemed to be extinguished,I expected not exactly expected,craved for a knock at my bedroom door,which is the initial sign of father's heart starting to melt and after an hour of act of me being the good daughter,the bad,the adament,the cute or whichever would please him for the moment(which i can mysteriously sense,somehow)I usually get the green signal.So that night too I fancied atleast a hundred times(exaggerated,you doubt?)him standing at my bedroom door,scolding me at first,then slyly smiling at my vain efforts to hide my worked out smudged eyes and finally ending up with "do whatever you want"as if he is not letting me do anything because he cares for his daughter but just subduing to my idiotic arguments simply because he cant take them anymore.But no miracle happened and didnt it totally break my heart?Not because that I'm a typical very good girl(*rolling eyes*),but I'v grown this habit of not doing anything which my father doesnt want me to do.Dont you dare mistake that i obey him by each word,just that I cant walk over his NO(of course only if he doesnt fall for my coaxing and fighting skills)
So that night i cried away to eternity.I was infact flaming with anger towards everything in my life(always happens with silly people,but im not completely silly,so i do recover,but its good you see,you'l have lots to laugh about later).But then something must be existing between us,may be not too much,but a little bit of friendship,inspite of us denying it,thousands of time(that is not exaggerated because an average of thrice a day can amount to a few thousands till date)or all those tears must have altered my mental balance.Whatever be the reason,i felt full of life all on a sudden,at the dead of the night,after fretting and sulking for hours in a row,crammed up with a nerve splitting head ache(or is it my problem that even with a heavy head and a heavier heart i can think plain,mostly thats the only time when i think plain.That must be it,or else how can I score pretty fair in exams,even if i skip enormous volumes of portions and still sleep for only 2 or 3 hours the day before.But no one ever belives it,see I'm not a typical nerd,its some disorder of mine,nd i dnt technically deserve wat i get).Funny enough,I know,but that night I wished with all my heart,the very best 4 d endeavour nd i ws sure it ws worth dan my presence wid her....contd

A PEN,FEW PAPERS AND A CRACK HEAD_PART 1

Here goes the head start,after wasting half an hour,trying out poetic lines and tragic quotes,even hilarious one-liners to inaugurate my piece of creativity with,I begin in a very unattractive way,probably the sloppiest of all i have written till date.Exactly the best wrong way(errr...that was to emphasize in an innovative manner"the worst way") to revive a long forgotten skill(not being modest there),i.e Writing...if to specify in my comfort zone-scribbling...
Let's have a fair deal,I talk straight about what i want to,no pathetic or hideous plots to make the stuff interesting,because whatever i do it aint gonna b interesting,as long as its me who is doing it...and if u ask me why,i can always answer in a less convincing,more confusing yet sophisticatedly philosophical manner that"it is just the musings of a forlorn girl whose life is confronting a fragile situation where you need to choose between your emotions and tacts,when your soul clambers to maturity and....."oh my God!if not anything i can make a good preacher!No wonder people call me "ammachi".I can talk some serious philosophy when im in a serious mood and I do sound all grey at times.
Nevertheless,from the above two paragraphs of the narrative,anyone even who are the least bothered,can doubtlessly presume two judgements
1)I'm a completely twisted creature;
2)I'v this uncanny talent of making simple things complicated.
Since after my pen starts moving(now its the keypad that suffers)I never bother about the inevitable disasters it could invite,even in the toughest of my answer papers(thats something for which im infamous for),you will have to keep in mind my love and obsession to write,think,talk and walk rubbish...And this venture ,the way it is turning out to be,should prove it...
The reason for this sudden upsurge of tantrum is a heartless,ruthless sarcastic creature(that's a quite catchy tune with words I composed when i was really mad at her)who has always been in charge of killing my idle time with even more useless chats or small scale/large scale fights whose intensity is classified by how harsh the words we use or how loud we shout at each other.Though renowned for her erratic nature and completely freaky ways,she has never failed me-i.e always to keep me engaged,to be frank,she mostly leaves me irritated or floating(that's what we call for a virtually non-existent state).But this time she has really abandoned me for quite a long time,like she masked herself away frm my reach,dat too for the first time ever(nw its kinda usual)after we seriously started getting involved with each other's lives(that's just a polite way of saying,poking nose into each other's business)And whether she intends or not,I always keep learning new things from her or because of her,not any moral values and all,mind you,just the things about me,which i would never have realised otherwise.But this is creepy,Im learning new things,even in her absence,like just now I learnt that i really dont hav any idle time,its just that i love sparing my time for her 'blah blah'and then to satisfy my pride i call it "idle"....contd

For Im The Shameful & The Magnificient One.....

For I am the first and the last
I am the venerated and the despised
I am the prostitute and the saint
I am the wife and the virgin
I am the mother and the daughter
I am the arms of my mother
I am barren and my children are many
I am the married woman and the spinster
I am the woman who gives birth and she who never procreated
I am the consolation for the pain of birth
I am the wife and the husband
And it was my man who created me
I am the mother of my father
I am the sister of my husband
And he is my rejected son....
Aways respect me
For i am the shameful and the magnificient one.....


Hymn to Goddess ISIS,
3rd or 4th century B.C
Discoverd in Nag Hammadi...