Unsent messages III

Someone had put up a story

About her and a boy

She’d re-shared it

It was a congratulatory post

She was tying the knot soon.

We had a strange bond

Close because of a mutual friend

Distant because of a mutual friend

One of those kinds of friendships.

I wanted to congratulate her

It was a happy occasion

It didn’t require much thought

Just one word would do too.

I typed it out

With my usual exclamations

And happy smileys

But my finger hesitated

I just couldn’t press send.

What if things were still awkward?

What if it appeared fake?

What if it was ignored?

My mind was running a marathon.

Then again, I thought

What if maybe,

Just maybe

Old chapters could’ve been closed

New ones could’ve been written

Stronger friendships could’ve been forged

And the future, rewritten

If only, I had sent

That one unsent message.

Unsent Messages II

I opened Instagram the other day

A friend from high school had posted a story

It beautifully described her mother

It wasn’t a birthday wish

But a painfully poignant ode

A tribute to a parent – gone too soon.

I remember seeing her mother in school

Fit as a fiddle,

Free as a bird

Wearing a wide smile,

Having a good time

I wondered what had suddenly gone wrong.

I thought about writing to my friend

We’d known each other for a few years

We’d been in the same class,

Attended boring tuitions,

Even acted in a play together

But had lost touch after school.

Yet, I typed out a message

Wanting to know how she was.

The words were carefully penned

The sentences expressed concern

The emotions were genuine

But, I never sent it.

My mind went in circles

What if the pain was too raw

What if the message was a trigger

What if I don’t deserve to know

What if she doesn’t remember me

After all, we weren’t even close.

And yet, my mind wanders again

What if maybe

Just maybe

The pain could’ve been healed

The grief could’ve been eased

The nostalgia could’ve been pleasant

If only, I had sent

That one unsent message.

Unsent messages

It was just the other day

When I heard about my friend’s passing,

I was shocked & deeply saddened.

He’d fought a long battle

But victory turned him away.

My heart went out to his wife

I thought about writing to her

I thought about what to write

I fumbled for the right words

I even typed it out

But never sent it.

We were strangers

Who’d never met

Who’d perhaps, never meet

It wouldn’t have made any difference.

But then,

What if maybe,

Just maybe,

Everything would’ve been different

Everything could’ve been different

If I had just sent

That one unsent message.

I Baked A Mango Cake & Guess What Happened

Mango cake. Delicious, isn’t it? In this scotching heat, devouring a lovely slice of mango cake is nothing short of heavenly. And that’s why I thought I should whip one up for my sister’s lockdown birthday.

I had seen the recipe well in advance and bought the ingredients (arranged for the mangoes as well!). I’d even bought the cream for the icing to make it extra special. It looked like a simple, doable recipe so I said, ‘How hard could it be? Let’s do this!’

The Hospital

Musings and snippets about a rather unexpectedly long hospital visit. They’re short but not always sweet. And they’re published like a Sunday daily – once a week, except for a few special editions in between.

1

I remember listening to a line in a movie that said that the airport is one place where a person can see different emotions at the same time. For some reason, that line stuck on. And it came back to me when I stood in a hospital corridor, outside the Operation Theatre. The OT was on the same floor as the labour ward. In that moment, the hospital mirrored the airport to me. Grief, fear, joy, anxiety and relief seemed to exist all in one place. It’s sometimes hard to believe that all these emotions could change in a split second when the doors of the OT opened. Hopefully, for the better.

***

2

I had just got off the ambulance and was waiting for some of the bags to be shifted to the ward from the Emergency Room (ER) waiting area. There were three rows of seats and not one of them was empty. I decided to stand in a corner. I wondered how many people could be facing an emergency at the same time and end up in the same place. I saw a young man give up his seat for an elderly couple limping towards him. There was another couple that was just coming out of the ER. The man had a white bandage on the side of his neck. His wife insisted he get a haircut. It would make him look and feel better, she said. He didn’t seem too impressed by the thought and was more eager to get back home. I couldn’t agree more. A few minutes there and anybody would want to. Every person there was doing only one of three things – waiting to hear an update, talking to another loved one on the phone or discussing the gravity of the situation with the person next to them. It was fascinating to see how quickly one picks up medical terms when one’s own is affected by a condition. It was a strange place with a vibe that was unsettling.

Until that moment, I knew I wasn’t particularly fond of hospitals, ambulances or emergency rooms. But after that moment, I was sure that the ER is most definitely not a place I’d visit if I was looking for a ray of hope.

***

Would turquoise go better with pink?

Would turquoise go better with pink?

Hmm, I’d have to think

And let that thought sink

Oh, look we’re already heading nowhere

I’ll soon have nothing to share

You see, I’m actually better with prose

That’s the way it goes.

But I’ll still give it a try,

So tell me, where was I?

It’s a funny world we live in

It’s a funny world we live in,

A sin doesn’t remain a sin,

If it’s all about win-win.

What I learnt from 2017

It’s the last day of the year and I am filled with bittersweet emotions. It was a year of many ups and downs. I don’t know if the latter outnumbered the former or the other way round but then again, that’s what this year left me feeling. It left me with this lingering feeling of ‘I don’t know’, a certain uneasiness about the uncertainty but also a bit of excitement about the future.

The year gave me way too many lessons. Its not like I’ve figured out everything yet. But guess what, it’s alright. You don’t need to have everything figured out. You don’t need to know if you stand on the blacks or the whites; you can just squat on the greys for a while more. The world will give you nothing but advice – some well meaning, some not very. Some that you want to hear, some that you don’t but need to. You’ll feel like shutting yourself up and at the same time, pouring your heart out. It’s alright. Breathe. It’s going to be okay. No one knows how but everyone knows it will.

Dilemmas will play havoc inside your head. Suddenly, everyone around you is keeping it together but you’re falling apart. You can’t figure out right from wrong and even your instincts give you the ditch. You want to let go and you fear the future regret of not holding on. It’s alright. It’s still going to be okay. There will be a time in life when you just stare blank not knowing where you’re heading and who’s going to hold your hand tomorrow to keep you from falling, or even worse, while you’re falling. And that’s  also alright. At the right moment, everything will make sense.

If there’s anything I’ve learnt this year, it’s this: nothing is constant. Not the people, not the misery and definitely not the bonds you share. But what can be constant, are faith and patience. Somewhere, somehow, at the right time, the faith in the higher force, in your inner self, in your God, in your teacher, will guide you through. It may not instantly put the pieces of the puzzle back together but it will give you the strength to get through the chaos.

We need to be trusting in the workings of this universe. Nod your head when people tell you that everything happens for a reason. But take your time for you to accept that knowing the reason will take a while. People often tell you that if things don’t happen the way you want them to, it’s good. There’s a better plan in store for you. It is hard to swallow this bittersweet truth but drink all the water you need, to make it go down. It will be a lot like the pungent medicinal cure to your ailment called sadness.

In the end, what you do, is your choice. It may not always be what you were advised to do. Choose what makes you happy as long as you aren’t unethical and hurting others. Listen to your conscience and your voice of reason. Act and speak when you’re calm.  Hope for the best and it will all work out.

As we embark on another journey this new year, let’s remember that the goodness in us will always shine brighter than the darkness that envelops us. Let’s remind ourselves that people change, sometimes even for the better, and we need to embrace that. But most importantly, we need to know that miracles happen everyday and you’re not an exception to being blessed with one!

Granny Tales 101: Chapter 5

This one took a while to come. Apologies for the delay. But I promise to be more prompt than I have been.

Today I talk about dadi and my piano lessons. Writing about this was unplanned but it seems like the best thing to relive at the moment.

My tryst with the piano began way back in second grade. My mother had seen a small newspaper listing for classes nearby and thought it was something interesting for my sister and I to learn. Our class was in a crammed home where the piano took up all the space in the room. But as kids we didn’t seem to bother. We were captivated by the instrument and the beautiful music one could make from it. And so, my sister and I took an instant liking to it and learnt fast. What began as a short summer camp eventually blossomed into a full-fledged class that saw both of us appear for Grade examinations by the Trinity College, London for nearly 6 consecutive years.

Granny Tales: Chapter 3

Sundays with Dadi were a bliss. She didn’t just love food, she loved making it. Food was on her mind all the time. In fact, most of our family friends remember how she’d welcome them when they came home, “Coffee kudikaringla?” [Will you have some coffee?]. Soon after, she’d busy herself making a hot cup of filter coffee, that remains unmatched in taste till this date.

Sundays, in particular, were different because it meant eating Dadi’s special Bisibella bath with a dollop of ghee, garnished with fried groundnuts and crispy appalam to go with it. The waft of piping hot flavours in the rice would fill the house and soon see each of us tip-toe into the kitchen to see if lunch was ready. The menu for lunch was almost always the same every Sunday, with Vaanghi Bath [brinjal rice] being its only serious competitor. Once in a while, variety rice like lemon rice, puliogare [tamarind rice], coconut rice and tomato rice would make an appearance.

Dadi was always the head cook for these lunches. Her mind would start working from the previous night. Everything would be mentally organised – from ingredients to quantities. And while everyone relished her food, she’d have a standard line after preparing each meal – “Innike seriyaave varle!” [Today, the taste isn’t upto the mark]. Eventually, this line became an inside joke as all of us waited for her to say it. We’d tell her that if she doesn’t say it, then something was definitely wrong with the food. This conversation would leave us all giggling.

Fortunately, these happy memories linger on and sometimes give you the strength to cope. They’re a reminder that the end isn’t the only thing to remember. What is important, is the journey. The moments, the times spent together, the love, the laughter – they can never be erased and one can only be grateful that it all happened instead of cry that it’s over.

I think I have an inkling on what’s coming in chapter 4. Stay tuned, guys!