Blazing heat Enchanting Sights

2 10 2013

Wow.. what eyes man.. dey Praveen.. did u see that girl in yellow tops?? she was in that mogappair to DMS share auto da.. cha.. yesterday only i noticed her.. so cute.. not even kajal in her eyes.. so simple looking she is.. yet so captivating da..! Dey shiva enna da vitta sathvikam bayanakam nu padayappa range la solluva pola?? cha illa praveen.. i’ll show you tomorrow.. she’s nothing compared to them.. real beauty da.. apdiye i feel transported to some heaven for those few seconds as the share auto comes near the depot and moves from there.. i should come tomorrow also to see if she comes.. even if there is lot of work, i’ll come.. its upto you to join me or not.

Shiva comes the next day and the next and then it becomes a routine for him.. daily he comes almost at the same time.. pah.. what a sight.. one afternoon she was laughing so hard at some joke her frends must have told her.. what a feast to his eyes.. never did the girl notice his presence in the crowded depot nor did he make any attempt to show her his presence.. Shiva is a gentleman.. Thou he was himself an eligible bachelor, he thought, just like how his parents were searching a life partner for him, her parents maybe searching too.. why unnecessarily intervene in between now and spoil the whole movie.. life was good as it is looking at her everyday was enough to get him thru for the day and keep his sleep deep at night.. little did he know about the twist fate was about to play on him in the next few weeks..!

after  2 weeks:

Shiva.. dey Shiva..konjam inga va da.. we have settled on 2 matches for you.. your uncle has seen all required nakshatram details and has settled on 2 girls.. please see the photos and tell us which you prefer.. this is your life so i’d suggest you speak to the girls and decide and not with the photos.. apram why ma you are showing me these pics.. just tell me their names.. let me decide where we go first.

one girl is Raji and the other is lalitha.. ok lalitha comes first ma.. i kinda feel more inclined to that name now.. lets go.

and so they start and proceed to lalitha’s house on the date agreed by the 2 families.. once they entered and settled with the greetings and hellos the next part was the PONNU PATHUFYING scene.. lalitha’s father asked her mom to send lalitha.. she entered with a bold walk yet with so much faminity and grace.. thou she held her head up.. her eyes were still gazing below eye level.. That was it.. when she entered shiva was out of his world unable to express his joy.. he was on cloud nine… he was literally jumping in his was the same girl whom he used to see everyday in the share auto..

Then they met and spoke and spoke a lot.. and after rides in the share auto after their engagement and frequent hangouts ensured they got pretty close.. and then they got married and lived happily ever after 🙂

Onion Sambar

30 08 2013

Wafting smell of amazing sambar was reaching the streets.. yumm even with the smell one can guess how tasty it’ll be.. Blessed guy this Rajarathinam is..! cha how i wish i could just go in and ask for some sambar! Roja was telling her friend mala while they were walking past ponnumani’s home…

“manguyile poonguyile seyidhi onnu kelu.. yenna malayile thedi varum.. nana nana na na…”

what Roja, what are you telling mala looking at my house?? They both started giggling.. and said lucky guy and walked away.. only after reaching near did he get the lovely smell of the onion sambar.. Rathinam walked inside and calls out ponnu.. ponnu.. enna ma sambar aroma is so strong and so ecsatic.. what else have you made today? is it anything special? the aroma makes me want to sit right her and eat first even without changing clothes..

blushing away to glory ponnu comes out of the kitchen.. onnum illinga.. you were not here by evening around your usual time.. so i thought you may be delayed because of work.. so i made your favourite food so that you can eat well and sleep..

PFFTTFTFTFTTFTFT… Rajarathiam wakes up.. what a vivid memory.. he rubs his eyes awake.. its the dead of the night.. and he is in the working quarters of the employees at a firm in Dubai.. He came only to make sure life is better for his ponnumani and daughter jaya.. its been 6 years now.. he does not even know how his daughter looks like.. she was just 3 months old when he left the village and comforts of his home to make some money hoping to make a better life for them. occasional trunk calls and letters from them are the only source of energy to keep him moving in the foreign country.. he sends money regularly to them.. still no where is like home.. no where can substitute for jaya’s voice and silly pranks.. no where will he get the same food cooked and served with love.. no where will he get the same onion sambar his wife used to make for him.. no where… no where.. and he slips back to sleep.. another long day of work and toil awaited him and another 2 years till he can get back home to his ponnumani and jaya..

The Blind Date – Jeffrey Archer

15 12 2011

Another story i loved for you..

The Scent of jasmine was the first clue : a woman

I was sitting alone at my usual table when she came and sat down at the next table. I knew she was alone, because the chair on the other side of her table hadn’t scraped across the floor, and no one had spoken to her after she’d sat down.

I sipped my coffee. On a good day, I can pick up the cup, take a sip and return it to the saucer, and if you were sitting at the next table, you’d never know I was blind. The challenge is to see how long I can carry out the deception before the person sitting next to me realizes the truth. And believe me, the moment they do, they give themselves away. Some begin to whisper , and, I suspect, nod or point; some become attentive; while a few are so embarrassed they don’t speak again. yes, I can even sense that.

I hoped someone would be joining her, so I could hear her speak. I can tell a great deal from a voice. When you can’t see someone, the accent and the tone are enhanced, and these can give so much away. Pause for a moment, imagine listening to someone on the other end of a phone line, and you’ll get the idea.

Charlie was heading towards us. ‘Are you ready to order, madam?’ asked the waiter, his slang leaving no doubt that he was a local. Charlie is tall, strong and gentle. How do I know? Because when he guides me back to the pavement after my morning coffee, his voice comes from several inches above me, and I’m five foot ten. And if I should accidentally bump against him, there’s no surplus weight, just firm muscle. But then, on Saturday afternoons he plays street cricket for his locality. He’s been in the first team for the past seven years, so he must be in his late twenties, possibly early thirties. Charlie has recently split up with his girlfriend and he still misses her. Some things you pick up from asking questions, others are volunteered.

The next challenge is to see how much I can work out about the person sitting at the next table before they realize I cannot see them. Once they’ve gone on their way, Charlie tells me how much I got right. I usually manage about seven out of ten.

‘I’d like a lemon tea,’ she replied, softly.

‘Certainly, madam,’ said Charlie. ‘And will there be anything else?’

‘No, thank you.’

Thirty to thirty-five would be my guess. Polite, and not from these parts. Now I’m desperate to know more, but I’ll need to hear her speak again if I’m to pick up any further clues.

I turned to face her as if I could see her clearly. ‘Can you tell me the time?’ I asked, just as the clock on the church tower opposite began to chime.

She laughed, but didn’t reply until the chimes had stopped.’If that clock is to be believed,’ she said, ‘it’s exactly ten o’ clock.’ The same gentle laugh followed. ‘It’s usually a couple of minutes fast,’ I said, staring blankly up at the clock face. ‘Although the church’s perpendicular architecture is considered as fine an example of its kind as any in the West country, it’s not the building itself that people flock to see,but the Madonna and Child by Barbara Hepworth,’ I added, casually leaning back in my chair.

‘How interesting,’ she volunteered, as Jo returned and placed a teapot and a small jug of milk on her table, followed by a cup and saucer. ‘I was thinking of attending the morning service,’ she said as she poured herself a cup of tea.

‘Then you’re in for a treat. Old Sam, our vicar, gives an excellent sermon, especially if you’ve never heard it before.’

She laughed again before saying, ‘I read somewhere that the Madonna and Child is not all like Barbara’s usual work.’

‘That’s correct,’ I replied. ‘Barbara would take a break from her studio most mornings and join me for a coffee,’ I said proudly, ‘and the great lady once told me that she created the piece in memory of her eldest son, who was killed in a plane crash at the age of twenty-four while serving in the RAF.’

‘How sad,’ said the woman, but added no further comment. ‘Some critics say,’ I continued, ‘that it’s her finest work, and that you can see Barbara’s devotion for her son in the tears in the Virgin’s eyes.’

The woman picked up her cup and sipped her tea before she spoke again. ‘How wonderful to have actually known her,’ she said. ‘I once attended a talk on the St.Ives School at the Tate, and the lecturer made no mention of Madonna and Child’.

‘Well, you’ll find it tucked away in the art. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.’ As she took another sip of tea, I wondered how many out of ten I’d got so far. Clearly interested in art, probably lives in London, and certainly hasn’t come to St Ives to sit on the beach and sunbathe

‘So, are you a visitor to these parts?’ I ventured, searching for further clues. ‘Yes. But my aunt is from St.Mawes, and she’s hoping to join me for the morning service.’

I felt a right chump. She must have already seen the Madonna and Child, and probably knew more about Barbara Hepworth than I did,but was too polite to embarrass me. Did she also realize I was blind? If so, those same good manners didn’t even hint at it.

I heard her drain her cup. I can even tell that. When Charlie returned, she asked him for the bill. He tore off a slip from his pad and handed it to her. She passed him a banknote, and he gave her back some coins.

‘Thank you, madam’ said Charlie effusively. It must have been a generous tip. ‘Goodbye’, she said, her voice directed towards me. ‘It was nice to talk to you.’

I rose from my place, gave her a slight bow and said, ‘ I do hope you enjoy the service.’

‘Thank you,’ she replied. As she walked away I heard her say to Charlie. ‘What a charming man.’ But then,she had no way of knowing how acute my hearing is. And then she was gone.

I sat waiting impatiently for Charlie to return. I had so many questions for him. How many of my guesses would turn out to be correct this time? From the buzz of cheerful chatter in the cafe, I guessed there were a lot of customers in that morning, so it was some time lot of customers in that morning, so it was some time before Charlie was once again standing by my side.

‘Will there be anything else, Mr. Trevathan?’ he teased. ‘There most certainly will be, Charlie,’ I replied. ‘For a start, i want to know all about the woman who was sitting next to me. Was she tall or short? Fair or dark? was she slim? Good-looking? Was she___ ‘ Charlie bursts out laughing

‘What’s so funny?’ I demanded

‘She asked me exactly the same questions about you’

The Last Leaf – O.Henry

15 12 2011

This is one story i loved reading… so I’ve shared it..

In a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips called “places.” These “places” make strange angles and curves. One Street crosses itself a time or two. An artist once discovered a valuable possibility in this street. Suppose a collector with a bill for paints, paper and canvas should, in traversing this route, suddenly meet himself coming back, without a cent having been paid on account!

So, to quaint old Greenwich Village the art people soon came prowling, hunting for north windows and eighteenth-century gables and Dutch attics and low rents. Then they imported some pewter mugs and a chafing dish or two from Sixth Avenue, and became a “colony.”

At the top of a squatty, three-story brick Sue and Johnsy had their studio. “Johnsy” was familiar for Joanna. One was from Maine; the other from California. They had met at the table d’hĂ´te of an Eighth Street “Delmonico’s,” and found their tastes in art, chicory salad and bishop sleeves so congenial that the joint studio resulted.

That was in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called Pneumonia, stalked about the colony, touching one here and there with his icy fingers. Over on the east side this ravager strode boldly, smiting his victims by scores, but his feet trod slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown “places.”

Mr. Pneumonia was not what you would call a chivalric old gentleman. A mite of a little woman with blood thinned by California zephyrs was hardly fair game for the red-fisted, short-breathed old duffer. But Johnsy he smote; and she lay, scarcely moving, on her painted iron bedstead, looking through the small Dutch window-panes at the blank side of the next brick house.

One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hallway with a shaggy, gray eyebrow.

“She has one chance in – let us say, ten,” he said, as he shook down the mercury in his clinical thermometer. ” And that chance is for her to want to live. This way people have of lining-u on the side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopoeia look silly. Your little lady has made up her mind that she’s not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind?”

“She – she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day.” said Sue.

“Paint? – bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice – a man for instance?”

“A man?” said Sue, with a jew’s-harp twang in her voice. “Is a man worth – but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind.”

“Well, it is the weakness, then,” said the doctor. “I will do all that science, so far as it may filter through my efforts, can accomplish. But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the curative power of medicines. If you will get her to ask one question about the new winter styles in cloak sleeves I will promise you a one-in-five chance for her, instead of one in ten.”

After the doctor had gone Sue went into the workroom and cried a Japanese napkin to a pulp. Then she swaggered into Johnsy’s room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime.

Johnsy lay, scarcely making a ripple under the bedclothes, with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep.

She arranged her board and began a pen-and-ink drawing to illustrate a magazine story. Young artists must pave their way to Art by drawing pictures for magazine stories that young authors write to pave their way to Literature.

As Sue was sketching a pair of elegant horseshow riding trousers and a monocle of the figure of the hero, an Idaho cowboy, she heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside.

Johnsy’s eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting – counting backward.

“Twelve,” she said, and little later “eleven”; and then “ten,” and “nine”; and then “eight” and “seven”, almost together.

Sue look solicitously out of the window. What was there to count? There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house twenty feet away. An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots, climbed half way up the brick wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken its leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches clung, almost bare, to the crumbling bricks.

“What is it, dear?” asked Sue.

“Six,” said Johnsy, in almost a whisper. “They’re falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head ache to count them. But now it’s easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now.”

“Five what, dear? Tell your Sudie.”

“Leaves. On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too. I’ve known that for three days. Didn’t the doctor tell you?”

“Oh, I never heard of such nonsense,” complained Sue, with magnificent scorn. “What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine so, you naughty girl. Don’t be a goosey. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were – let’s see exactly what he said – he said the chances were ten to one! Why, that’s almost as good a chance as we have in New York when we ride on the street cars or walk past a new building. Try to take some broth now, and let Sudie go back to her drawing, so she can sell the editor man with it, and buy port wine for her sick child, and pork chops for her greedy self.”

“You needn’t get any more wine,” said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. “There goes another. No, I don’t want any broth. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I’ll go, too.”

“Johnsy, dear,” said Sue, bending over her, “will you promise me to keep your eyes closed, and not look out the window until I am done working? I must hand those drawings in by to-morrow. I need the light, or I would draw the shade down.”

“Couldn’t you draw in the other room?” asked Johnsy, coldly.

“I’d rather be here by you,” said Sue. “Beside, I don’t want you to keep looking at those silly ivy leaves.”

“Tell me as soon as you have finished,” said Johnsy, closing her eyes, and lying white and still as fallen statue, “because I want to see the last one fall. I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of thinking. I want to turn loose my hold on everything, and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves.”

“Try to sleep,” said Sue. “I must call Behrman up to be my model for the old hermit miner. I’ll not be gone a minute. Don’t try to move ’til I come back.”

Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath them. He was past sixty and had a Michael Angelo’s Moses beard curling down from the head of a satyr along with the body of an imp. Behrman was a failure in art. Forty years he had wielded the brush without getting near enough to touch the hem of his Mistress’s robe. He had been always about to paint a masterpiece, but had never yet begun it. For several years he had painted nothing except now and then a daub in the line of commerce or advertising. He earned a little by serving as a model to those young artists in the colony who could not pay the price of a professional. He drank gin to excess, and still talked of his coming masterpiece. For the rest he was a fierce little old man, who scoffed terribly at softness in any one, and who regarded himself as especial mastiff-in-waiting to protect the two young artists in the studio above.

Sue found Behrman smelling strongly of juniper berries in his dimly lighted den below. In one corner was a blank canvas on an easel that had been waiting there for twenty-five years to receive the first line of the masterpiece. She told him of Johnsy’s fancy, and how she feared she would, indeed, light and fragile as a leaf herself, float away, when her slight hold upon the world grew weaker.

Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streaming, shouted his contempt and derision for such idiotic imaginings.

“Vass!” he cried. “Is dere people in de world mit der foolishness to die because leafs dey drop off from a confounded vine? I haf not heard of such a thing. No, I will not bose as a model for your fool hermit-dunderhead. Vy do you allow dot silly pusiness to come in der brain of her? Ach, dot poor leetle Miss Yohnsy.”

“She is very ill and weak,” said Sue, “and the fever has left her mind morbid and full of strange fancies. Very well, Mr. Behrman, if you do not care to pose for me, you needn’t. But I think you are a horrid old – old flibbertigibbet.”

“You are just like a woman!” yelled Behrman. “Who said I will not bose? Go on. I come mit you. For half an hour I haf peen trying to say dot I am ready to bose. Gott! dis is not any blace in which one so goot as Miss Yohnsy shall lie sick. Some day I vill baint a masterpiece, and ve shall all go away. Gott! yes.”

Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to the window-sill, and motioned Behrman into the other room. In there they peered out the window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other for a moment without speaking. A persistent, cold rain was falling, mingled with snow. Behrman, in his old blue shirt, took his seat as the hermit miner on an upturned kettle for a rock.

When Sue awoke from an hour’s sleep the next morning she found Johnsy with dull, wide-open eyes staring at the drawn green shade.

“Pull it up; I want to see,” she ordered, in a whisper.

Wearily Sue obeyed.

But, lo! after the beating rain and fierce gusts of wind that had endured through the livelong night, there yet stood out against the brick wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. Still dark green near its stem, with its serrated edges tinted with the yellow of dissolution and decay, it hung bravely from the branch some twenty feet above the ground.

“It is the last one,” said Johnsy. “I thought it would surely fall during the night. I heard the wind. It will fall to-day, and I shall die at the same time.”

“Dear, dear!” said Sue, leaning her worn face down to the pillow, “think of me, if you won’t think of yourself. What would I do?”

But Johnsy did not answer. The lonesomest thing in all the world is a soul when it is making ready to go on its mysterious, far journey. The fancy seemed to possess her more strongly as one by one the ties that bound her to friendship and to earth were loosed.

The day wore away, and even through the twilight they could see the lone ivy leaf clinging to its stem against the wall. And then, with the coming of the night the north wind was again loosed, while the rain still beat against the windows and pattered down from the low Dutch eaves.

When it was light enough Johnsy, the merciless, commanded that the shade be raised.

The ivy leaf was still there.

Johnsy lay for a long time looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was stirring her chicken broth over the gas stove.

“I’ve been a bad girl, Sudie,” said Johnsy. “Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how wicked I was. It is a sin to want to die. You may bring a me a little broth now, and some milk with a little port in it, and – no; bring me a hand-mirror first, and then pack some pillows about me, and I will sit up and watch you cook.”

And hour later she said:

“Sudie, some day I hope to paint the Bay of Naples.”

The doctor came in the afternoon, and Sue had an excuse to go into the hallway as he left.

“Even chances,” said the doctor, taking Sue’s thin, shaking hand in his. “With good nursing you’ll win.” And now I must see another case I have downstairs. Behrman, his name is – some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man, and the attack is acute. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital to-day to be made more comfortable.”

The next day the doctor said to Sue: “She’s out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now – that’s all.”

And that afternoon Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, contentedly knitting a very blue and very useless woollen shoulder scarf, and put one arm around her, pillows and all.

“I have something to tell you, white mouse,” she said. “Mr. Behrman died of pneumonia to-day in the hospital. He was ill only two days. The janitor found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were wet through and icy cold. They couldn’t imagine where he had been on such a dreadful night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted, and a ladder that had been dragged from its place, and some scattered brushes, and a palette with green and yellow colors mixed on it, and – look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn’t you wonder why it never fluttered or moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, , it’s Behrman’s masterpiece – he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell.”

That night in Ashokavan

18 10 2011

she woke up suddenly… she had heard a sudden ruffle of leaves.. it was not usual for such a movement in the trees at this time of the night.. it was somewhere around 3AM.. she looked around.. found nothing.. so she dozed off again…

shreemad-dasharatha nandana raam – kausalya sukha vardhana raam – vishvamitra priyadhana raam…

she woke up again… silence prevailed.. she convinced herself that it was a dream.. her yearning for Shree Ram’s arrival to save her was making her dream aloud… she dozed again…

ghora tataka dhaataka raam – marichaadini pataka raam – kaushikamaka samrakshaka raam – shrimadahlyoddhaaraka raam –  gautama muni.. she woke up again.. this time sure that it was not her dream.. she had heard the ruffle of the branches and leaves in the most unusual way.. she lay there, eyes wide open, ears pierced sharply to pick any sound… and suddenly… aaarrrrarraraaahhhagggahhhhhhh…….!! with a loud crash, fell from the topmost branch, a creature that she has never seen before.. too big for a monkey.. looked human like.. compassionate eyes, but mouth like a monkey.. hands bore the fruit of the very same tree she was sleeping under.. worse still, the creature had a tail..!! she was under the impression that she was dreaming the most wildest of dreams.. she tried pinching herself when the creature spoke up… that was the last of what she could take…

Creature: Jai Shree Raam.. sita matha.. I come from Shree Raam.. as a messenger to thee..

she: wow.. this thing knows my name.. what all can this Raavan muster up to convince me?

Creature: maatha.. i have come from Rameshwaram.. Lord Shree Raam is resting there while planning on his agenda on how to defeat the King of Lanka and take you home

She: mixed feelings.. she wanted to believe what the creature is telling.. but could not believe her own eyes and ears… she says.. ok so what are you? (note it’s not even who are you.. it’s what are you)

Creature: I’m Hanuman.. Army Chief of the King Sugriva’s kingdom ‘Kishkintha’. King Sugriva and Lord Raam’s Party have signed an MOA..Lord Shree Raam helped Sugriva in defeating his unreasonable elder brother Vaali.. and as promised, King Sugriva has sent his men to aid Shree Raam in building a bridge across the Indian ocean to reach Lanka. I head that army.. So Shree Raam has sent me over to find out your whereabouts, the distance between where we stay and Lanka… and the best mode of transport for the large convoy of King Sugriva’s MonkeyMen and Lord Shree Raam’s army..

She: still eyeing him with doubts..since Raavan had tried all possible ways of convincing her… ok… I believe all that you say.. but gimme some material proof…

Creature: How dumb of me..

he took a bit paper and revisited all the thing that were listed.. banana – that he had finished for breakfast. apples, carrots peaches… that were snacks during the transit time..jackfruit.. that fell off in the sea when he tried to play with an enlarged shadow of the waves which he had code-named sea demon.. and then finally his eyes fell upon ‘angooti’ he had never eaten anything with that strange name… he thought and thought… and kept thinking for a whole 15 mins

She: bleddy you wake me at 3Am.. already its difficult to sleep with so many insects and gundas around you.. you come, tell me some strange message.. and now you are thinking..

she: oh.. what are you thinking about for so long? about the lost jackfruit?? there are so many different rare varieties of fruits in this forest.. you can eat them all when you leave.. now tell me the matter so that I can sleep..

Creature: yes sita matha.. only thing is that.. there is this item called angooti on the list.. I’m not able to tell whether it’s a fruit or this other thing Shree Raam gave me to pass on to you..

saying this he started fishing inside his dhoti… and brought out a ring…

She: arey angooti means a ring.. now give that to me..

Creature: placing the ring in his palm, he stretched it out for sita matha to see.. with all due respect sita matha.. Shree Raam wanted you to see this.. and keep it with you.. He said, He’ll come with the army and save you as soon as possible…

She: taking the ring, she examined it.. it was her Shree Raam’s ring after all.. the creature.. correction –  Hanuman had not lied to her… she looked around hoping none of the gundas had woken up because of this conversation.. she felt elated..

Hanuman: allow me to take your blessings matha, and then with your permission, I shall take leave.

saying this he fell at Her feet and prepared to take leave..when She said HEY…!!

She: arey Hanumaan wait… she removed her hair clip.. and handed it to him.. and laughing she said, now add ‘Choodamani’ to your list.. and don’t mistake it for a fruit..

Hanuman: Smiled at Sita maatha, how peaceful she was, despite her painful position of being held captive in a lost forest, she is able to crack jokes… with that, he climbed the same tree.. and jumped outside the forest and out of sight…

She: still unable to contain her happiness.. lay down and started dreaming of her Shree Raam.. the first time they saw each other in mithila… how he broke the ‘shiv dhanush’ to win her hand…how he… she slept off…

That walk in the beach

29 09 2011

we were driving along the beach road in besent nagar.. woha.. it was an amazing evening.. calm and peaceful.. yeah we chose to drive on a government holiday when most people will be indoors watching TV..

splendid it was.. when we parked the car and took a walk inside the beach.. bare foot.. holding hands.. feeling the breeze ruffle through the locks of my hair was an awesome feeling.. and so was the feeling of sand between my toes… we were talking about those times when we were a young couple.. it was in 1960 when we were married.. I was a 17 yr old then… dint know what it took to manage a family… and now? look at me.. I have grand children..

how much ever things have changed around us.. I’m so glad that, still sometimes He treats me like That 17-year-old whom he married years back.. on and on we walked till it became dark… but it was just 7Pm.. we had asked people at home not to expect us before 8.. it is our anniversary today… so we sat by the waters.. and spoke of the green patches of our life together.. how we stood for each other even when we fought over  the tiniest things…

then he got up.. gave me a hand to get up.. we stood near the water my head resting on his shoulder.. His arm around my waist…and slowly we walked back to the car.. I just dint want the evening to come to an end.. I was hoping with all I ever had that life had a pause button.. so that I could freeze this minute and cherish it for the rest of my life…

Puppy Love

21 09 2011

duke and dusky were neighbors.. they’ve known each other for quite sometime now.. duke has been living there ever since he was born.. and dusky’s folks moved in a few years back.. they have been best of friends ever since.. it was an everyday ritual to go for an evening walk around the park.. it is the most enjoyable thing.. they get to meet their friends golden roz, daisy, tuna, mike, sully and many others.. they all play and then return home after about a while..

But today was different.. the climate was misty so no one came to the park.. it was noon time.. duke had finished his lunch and was pondering outside his house.. occasionally taking glances at dusky’s window.. over time, he has realized that his feeling for dusky was more than being neighbors or friends… he was in love.. and his opinion, today was the best day to declare it.. the climate was romantic and dusky was very happy in the morning when he saw her…

the sun climbed down from the sky.. and evening was setting in.. as always dusky came and both of them strode away from the apartments towards the park… as expected by duke, the other friends had not turned up.. both of them enjoyed running and breathing the fresh evening air for a while.. then as running slowed down to a brisk stride.. duke decided to make use of the opportunity.. as they crossed a private bend.. he said “Woof woof woof woof…woooooooo” dusky was overwhelmed with joy… she also barked “woof woooooo” and both of them “woooood” in unison and fell over each other licking madly in joy..

in the mean time, it started getting dark.. so they walked back home… and ever since, the walk in the park never remained the same..

Upon setting my eyes on that *Flower*…!

30 08 2011

It dawned today.. another beautiful day.. as ravishing as it could be… the bright sun painting everything around in bright bold colors.. i got outta bed and walked across my room to the window.. and witnessed the most beautiful thing i had ever seen in that place.. in my opinion it was by far the best creation of the lord almighty.. and most beautiful real life painting painted ever so strikingly by the sun.

I quickly showered and dressed up.. and ran (read flew) to that place… and there stood the most admirable creation.. i went near and circled.. buzzed a little.. hovered to the top… smelt the mesmerizing fragrance.. smiled at the flower and sat on it.. and collected honey.. wished to myself (only if my wife looked so cute) and flew back to the hive.. for today was a busy day.. i had to visit other flowers and collect honey… but still i made a mental note to come by this one whenever possible today…!

That Chor came to my house yesterday

22 08 2011

Was it only the makkhan that was stolen or her heart was stolen too?
Was makkhan smeared only on her face when HE tried to wriggled out of her clutches or was her heart too smeared with some of it?
Was only the pot of makkhan broken when He tried to run away or her heart broke too?

Still, she goes running behind that makhan chor (read chittha chor) while he goes to hide behind his mother(read blessed yashodha ma) and tell her maiyya, i dint steal it maiyya she fed it to me.. and when the pot slipped from her hand, i got scared and i came running and she’s chasing me blaming that i broke her pot and stole her makkhan.. yashodha maiyya laughs at the gopika.. and again she loses to kanhaiyya’s pranks and returns to her house to make more makkhan hoping kanhaiyya will come by again…!

Was it only the makkhan that melted or did her heart melt too?

Yeah, the same Kanhaiyya the Makkhan chor.. the chittha chor.. the madhav.. the gopalak.. the muralidhar.. the ghansham.. the same natkhat krishna 🙂 HE came to my house yesterday.. He ate butter and the other stuff that I had made for Him 🙂 and tell you what? the preparations tasted extra good because kanhaiyya had eaten it first 🙂


Makkhan: Butter
Chor: thief
maiyya: mother
Kanhaiyya – Krishna
makkhan chor: one who steals butter
Chittha Chor: one who steals our heart
Madhav: another name of Krishna
Gopalak: one who cares for the Cows
Muralidhar: one who has the flute
Ghanshyam: the dark complexioned
natkhat: naughty


Kaagaz ki Kashthi

19 08 2011

This story is about me.. i’m Sonu a girl of 23.. I live in Rajkot district of gujrat with my 3 yearold son.. my in laws are in the lilapur village which is some 5 hours from here.. my mother and father live there too.. I live here with my husband Amol who is now away on a trade.. he left 6 weeks back.. and has still not returned… today is 25/04/1960.. and i still await his return sitting at the doorstep holding in my hand the worn inland letter that i received 3 weeks back from him… this piece of paper the first ever letter that he has written to me ever.. it is the most precious thing to me.. i hold it very close to my heart… i read it over 30 times a day even when i know it word for word.. even Anil here knows it well.. since I read it out to him when he eats and it’s time for him to sleep.. and once he has slept.. I lay down beside the lamp and hold the letter out and read it and read it.. again and again till I fall asleep.. and dream of my handsome..

Pyare sonu,

We are in bhavnagar now.. so far we have sold only few of the goods that we brought from home.. Soon after we find a steady channel to sell our goods regularly, we hope to return.
Missing the warmth of our home, the aroma of the food that you make for me with love.. and little anil’s naughty pranks..

Hope you both are doing well.. please go to mamma’s ghar when you feel lonely here.. I’m very sorry for leaving you all alone in the city and coming for trade.

Missing your sweet smile and comforting words… hoping to return home soon.. take care sonu..

Yours forever,

And suddenly I wake up only to find out that once again I was only dreaming of holding his hand and going to the temple nearby.. only dreaming that anil was crying and his loving father was comforting him with funny pranks.. only dreaming that amol was quietly sneaking behind me to see what was cooking on the fire.. only dreaming that it was raining in the neighborhood and he was comforting anil and me from the lightning and thunder dancing scarily around the area.. only dreaming that amol was humming along with me, my favorite tune from chalthi ka naam gaadi.. and so, yet another day has dawned for me to hold on to the kaagaz ki kashthi.. that letter which HE wrote to me and await his return.

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