Hope Springs !

Barren trees,

Fallen leaves,

Skies grey,

Hello doomsday!

Yet...

Robin chirps a song,

Blue peeps along,

Spring won't be long.

Hope, stay strong!

Force of Nature !

How do you describe a force of nature? You don’t—you just try to keep up with it.

On February 14th, 2025, my mom passed away. It’s a date usually reserved for love, which is fitting, I suppose, because her entire existence was a fierce, focused, and sometimes exhausting (for herself before any of us) act of love for her family.

She was dealt a difficult hand early on—losing her own mother when she was barely two, raised by her sister and father, and then married off at eighteen. She moved from a small town to a bustling city, landing right into the middle of a massive joint family. She had a middle school education and a determination that didn't require a dictionary. She didn’t know English, but she managed to blend in with the new family, making friends of her own age-group sister-in-law and helping her mother-in-law to run that large household.

I have this vivid memory from when I was in second grade. I had an English lesson to learn, and Mom—bless her, and bless her understanding of English --- didn't quite grasp the nuance of "studying." To her, "learning" meant absolute mastery. She made me memorize the entire lesson, word for word, cover to cover, just so I could recite it back to her. She couldn’t read the words, but she could hear the effort. All these were just blip in her life-long fight with English in trying to prove her mastery over him! She made it a point to read the English newspaper every day and sometimes loudly for all our entertainment. One time, as she was reading she proclaimed loudly - "Thank God" ; we asked what was going on - with smile on her face she said, "we all can be safe",  because the the newsitem was "Dacoits Strike in Bangalore"; she proclaimed all the dacoits were going on strike and hence we are all safe.

She was the backend engine of our lives. While my dad was a spendthrift, she was the silent CFO, stretching every rupee. She worked hard through the day (with a few complaints), only to have a litany of aches, pains and tons of complaints once night fell—a routine that became a bit of a running joke in our family. But new dawn, new day, same old Amma !

And then there was the singing. She loved it. Every Golu, she would sit there and launch into "Vataapi Ganapathim" with everything she had. My sister and I would sit behind her and  making fun of her, slapping our thighs in a mock-beat, but she never let our teasing dampen her spirit.

What I find most remarkable, looking back, was her lack of dogma, biases or preconceived notions. For someone from her background, she was incredibly forward-thinking. She didn't just accept my wife; she championed her. If there was ever a disagreement between my wife and I, she’d side with her daughter-in-law over me without missing a beat! She was the fiercest supporter of her grandson, with a deep faith that his life will be good; she did what she could (fasting, temple visits) towards that. Ditto with her three dear grand-daughters - for example, at 77, she took over the set-up of ceremonies during the 2-d wedding of one them, while my sister was recovering during her first go around with C.

She was also a woman of certain... "unshakeable" convictions - mostly arising out of her own assumptions. In her later years, she developed a great penchant for saying things that were absolutely, demonstrably incorrect. My dad would get into these long, winding arguments with her, eventually proving her wrong with logic and facts. But Mom always had the final word. She’d wait for the dust to settle, look at him, and say with total confidence, "That’s exactly what I said!" and turn around walk-away triumphantly, frustrating my dad even further.

And she was tough. She possessed a dichotmous heart --- when it mattered most. In the span of just four months, she lost both her partner and her daughter. Most people would have crumbled, but she was a rock. She had this incredible ability to compartmentalize her deep love for my sister and at the same time wanted her to go sooner, simply because she didn't want her daughter suffer through pain. She chose her daughter's peace over her own grief.

After my dad and sister passed, I moved her into a senior assisted living facility. Initially, she was worried, but she took to it like a duck to water. For the first time, the "weight of the family" wasn't resting solely on her shoulders. She made wonderful friends, and it was so endearing to see her finally living for herself and holding her friends hand. She even reconnected with her music, singing prayers every Friday. She had made friends with all the people that worked there, but at the same time made their lives tough with her demanding perfection!

She remained a "backend engine" until the very end. Even when she was hospitalized, just before she slipped into unconsciousness, she gave us one last glimpse of her focus --- her final act of consciousness wasn't for herself; it was for her grandson. She lifted her hand, held my son’s, and gave a firm shake of her head to acknowledge something that he said to her. Even then, she was making sure he was heard.

There’s this weird, beautiful coincidence— minutes after she passed, my son finally cleared a long waiting list for independent housing. I’m convinced that the second she arrived "up there," she didn't stop for her sin - another cup of coffee. She probably marched straight up to the gods, gave them a piece of her mind, and said, "What the heck are you doing? Get this done for my grandson!"

It’s strange—I miss her deeply, but unlike the heavy sorrow I felt with my dad or my sister, every time I talk about Mom with my wife, we end up laughing. Her mom'isms, her assumptions and her quirks were just part of our lives. Amma, I probably didn’t tell you enough while you were here. I spent so much time stressed out about your health and well-being that I forgot to just say "thank you" and not enough "love you!" But I think you know.

Goodbye, Amma. I hope you’re lead-singing "Vataapi" somewhere right now, and if the gods try to correct your lyrics, I’m sure you’re telling them: "That’s exactly what I said!"

Good bye! Love you, miss you!

[Link for additional Good byes: To Sister, To dad :-( ]

Grammar and Classic Literature !

I've been meaning to write about this for more than a year, finally am geting around to do that now. Not sure if I'll finish this in one go. Since we (my better half and I) compiled the best SPB songs for my sister (who was a mega-fan of SPB), there is this song that I got re-engaged with.

Its the song. Ilakanam Maarudho from the movie (if I may say one of the outstanding movies of its time - Nizhal Nijamaagiradhu; released in 1978) written by Kannadaasan, composed by MSV and sung by SPB and Vani Jairam. It is a song with so rich in meaning, depth that simply resonated with me. The movie itself was directed by K. Balachander  and superb performances by everyone in the movie with stand-out brilliant performances by Hanumanthu and the outstanding Shobha (who went too soon!). Even the comedic track in that movie was well done by Mouli; if there is any ding in performance, probably the usual wooden presence of Sarath Babu 

Anyways, this post is not about the movie, but about the song. Kannadasan's poetry; in the early part of the song - his command over the language and the philosophy shines through the song, specifically through use of homonyms early on and then later on just the depth.

The song itself is seen from the eyes of 4  protoganist in the movie (Kamal, Sumitra, Hanumanthu and Shobha). In the movie, Shobha portrays an innocent child, who gets raped resulting in pregnancy. While she is unable to comprehend and say who the father is, she is completely accepted by deaf/mute Hanumanthu who dotes on her and takes care of her; Kamal who is the main protoganist (like a narrator, where the story is seen through his eyes) is "in love" with Sumitra who hides her feeling for him, since she isn't sure if Kamal is the father of the child. 

Here is the song itself and why I'm wow'ed by it.

இலக்கணம் மாறுதோ…ஓ ஓ ஓ ஓஓ
இலக்கணம் மாறுதோ இலக்கியம் ஆனதோ
இதுவரை நடித்தது அது என்ன வேடம்
இது என்ன பாடம் (இலக்கணம்)

The song starts with a rhetorical question:  if the Grammar  (இலக்கணம் = ie what happens in as in daily lives around these four people) is morphing into a classic literature (இலக்கியம்),  that potentially can live timelessly 

கல்லான முல்லை இன்றென்ன வாசம்
காற்றான ராகம் ஏன் இந்த கானம்
வெண்மேகம் அன்று கார்மேகம் இன்று
யார் சொல்லித் தந்தார் மழைக்காலம் என்று
மன்மதன் என்பவன் கண் திறந்தானோ
பெண்மை தந்தானோ (இலக்கணம்)

To me this is the weakest part of the whole song / poetry, relative to rest of it; standalone it probably is pretty good. Perhaps the bard decided to warm up for what is to come next. This stanza is in the eyes of Kamal, narrating what his perspective about Sumitra is and start of his sub-conscious attaction to her.

என் வாழ்க்கை நதியில் கரை ஒன்று கண்டேன்
உன் நெஞ்சில் ஏனோ கறை ஒன்று கண்டேன்
புரியாததாலே திரை போட்டு வைத்தேன்
திரை போட்ட போதும் அணை போட்டதில்லை
மறைத்திடும் திரைதனை விலக்கி வைப்பாயோ, விளக்கி வைப்பாயோ

You can sense Kannadasan slowing amping it up here - with the use of homonyms - கரை / கறை and விளக்கி/விலக்கி. This is seen from the eyes of Sumitra who has feelings for Kamal (கரை, or her safe bank) but still isn't sure, if he is the one who got Shobha pregnant (கறை, a blemish) and is holding back her feelings; she is expecting Kamal to remove (விலக்கி) the invisible barrier between them by explaining (விளக்கி) it to her.

தள்ளாடும் பிள்ளை உள்ளமும் வெள்ளை
தாலாட்டுப்பாட ஆதாரம் இல்லை
தெய்வங்கள் எல்லாம் உனக்காக பாடும்
பாடாமல் போனால் எது தெய்வமாகும்
மறுபடி திறக்கும் உனக்கொரு பாதை
உரைப்பது கீதை………..

This is where Kannadasan begins his depth of thought. He sets up the character - painting that of an innocent, child-like and with a pure heart. The he continues on his seemingly unyielding take on Divinity - Reading the line - "தெய்வங்கள் எல்லாம் உனக்காக பாடும் பாடாமல் போனால் எது தெய்வமாகும்" (The Gods will sing for you (innocents and pure souls) and if they don't would they be Gods?)- was something that had an anchoring impact in me - right from when I was a young in my late teens; As I grew, I started realizing what it actually meant. It shifted my thinking recontextualizing divinity / Gods—not as an abstract power, but as a moral and ethical compass. Kannadasan's words were visceral, in the extreme, but at minimum, unambiguous - true divinity cannot be passive; it must be an active participant speaking for the innocents and the powerless.

மணி ஓசை என்ன இடி ஓசை என்ன
எது வந்த போதும் நீ கேட்டதில்லை
நிழலாக வந்து அருள் செய்யும் தெய்வம்
நிஜமாக வந்து எனை காக்கக் கண்டேன்
நீ எது நான் எது ஏனிந்த சொந்தம்
பூர்வ ஜென்ம பந்தம்

ஆ ஆஆ ஆ ஆஆ ஆஆ ஆ (இலக்கணம்)

This is the last stanza of the song. Having driven the central theme Kannadasan relents a bit here. After establishing this gold standard for divinity, his tone seems to soften. He appears to  move from a philosophical absolute to a personal but reflective stance. He writes:" (நிழலாக வந்து அருள் செய்யும் தெய்வம் நிஜமாக வந்து எனை காக்கக் கண்டேன்). I'm not clear if he is compromising on his compass of what God should be; it could also be his validation his premise - the God, that is just a whisper of an idea, has now come in reality to protect. While at first, this might seem like a simple acknowledgment that 'Gods come in many forms; however, the specific words here, Kannadasn uses, are far more profound: he makes a crucial distinction between a god that is a 'shadow' (நிழலாக) and one that comes 'in reality' (நிஜமாக); and that reality is very much possible in our lives. This resonates to me quite a bit, because several times in my own life, when I thought there are no ways out staring at wall in an alley (like this one post), there was always something that showed up. That was my நிழல், out in real life being morphed into something (நிஜம்). 

There are several times, when I hear this song on my long drives alone to work, when I hear those two lines, my eyes well up - so thankful to that shadow/reality who has been scaffolding me all these years and specifically the past 3 years and during my darkest hours.

Anyhow this has been a wonderful rediscovery of this song. The fact that SPB and Vani Jairam sang it so well with MSV's brilliant composition keeping pace with the song and without intruding into the poetry, is just an incing on the cake. This has been my go-to song when I'm on my own for Caraoke - It has been so  cathartic bawling out (to) the song !

(You can hear the song here in youtube)

The Moon and the Palm !

Although you can't catch the moon in your palms, on a cloudy night after rains, you can frame the night moon along with the palm trees !

(Pixel 10 pro, with ~35x digital zoom)

PenUp app on Samsung Tablet (Painting app)

Discovered a nice app on the samsung tablet, called PenUp. It is a painting app, with connections to its own social media platform - one could take a picture (outline) and paint it and also paint around it based on one's imagination.

I started meddling around with it and oddly found it very thereapeutic. 

Here is the picture I started with:

Here is what I did with it - I'm pretty happy with how it ended !! Perhaps this is something I can do more?

Our Attempt at Painting

 A friend of ours had introduced us to "blow painting" based on alcohols based paints. The principle is - using an ink-filler type pipe, you drop droplets of paint and over it drop some rubbing alcohol and using a blow pipe or such instrument, spread the paint around.

This is our first attempt at that:

After this, we did a few more - it is fun stuff to do.

Grief

 

Shine on ! (my child!)

(I wrote this after talking to one of my nieces; she was processing her mother's (my sister's) loss)

When you sense the sorrow

Be it today, or tomorow,

Listen deeper to your heart

To those voices from the past,

reprising all we talked

(and those that I taught).

If happiness still eludes you

Look up to the high skies -

All those shining stars

or that floating cloud

is me...
Looking at thee, 

Happy and very proud,

and what you've become -

Grounded, kind and then some.

Trust me, my child,

I've seen whats in plan,

In that future, wondrous and wild,

You are that woman,

I could aspire to be !!
(Now, stop thinking of me,
Gotta go listen to live SPB)

Never Ending Story

 

Two years gone by

Since the goodbye(s)!

Was it yesterday,  

Or an eon ago?  

I turn the leaf 

In the book of grief,  

Every line I read, 

Strings a bead

of a memory past;

Of joy then, sorrow now.

Not wanting to last,

In this aching woe

I go to the last page -

Just as I fear,

Through my tears,

can't see "The End." 🥹

(Perhaps "yet" my friend !)

--------------
When someone read this poem of mine, they sent me this beautiful Reddit post.

2023

The road ahead unknown and dark,

Fall colors aground quietly hark,

Of memories of the year past and done,

Happy ones, sadness many, regrets none.

Hesitant, I stood staring ahead,

A bit of expectation, a bit of dread...

Then, this tap on the shoulder,

I turned around, I looked at her.

Amidst the endless many a nope,

Stood she with a smile, Hope

Beckoning, to take her extended hand.

Through these ever shifting sands.

Here I am now, moving on,

Held and steered gently,

By faith, of a better 2023!

Yet Another Good Bye ! :-(

How do you even say good bye to someone who is your first friend; and forever friend ? 

After 2 year of battle of the dreaded cancer (redux), my dear sister passed away this August. As someone who had acess to so much information, I was very aware of the prognosis of a metastatic cancer; but it never prepares you for the eventuality. I always thought we could have another day, another week and perhaps another month more. But there is no greyness in the eventuality, it is definite. 

My first memory of her, was when I was less than 5 years old - the house in Chennai; where she simply fooled me in a competition. Who wins in finishing first a favorite treat, that my mom made. I was the winner, but then I saw her eat with relish, ever so s-l-o-w-l-y, enjoing every bite of it, and me watching that; it took me several years to realize that she actually won it. Then came the memories, in that lovely house in Katpadi. While playing catch, she had tripped me and I fell and hit my head and started profusely bleeding. I had to have a couple of stitches in my skull; I guess she felt guilty about it and tried to up my spirit by joking and singing a parody of the ad of my dad's bank (and btw, she had such a bad voice! Neither of us had inherited our mom's voice); without realizing laughing only made my pain worse.

She was unerringly/unflinchingly "loyal" to me (and naturally, to her family - kids/spouse) - even when I started smoking, or had that first drink; and when my kid arrived, she was one of the rock that we leaned on for support. She brought the same fierceness in embracing my better half as her sister and my son as her own. Once when my 8 year old kid was bullied and he came in narrated innocently about it, she had tears in her eyes - that is how much she cared for people around her. She always gave the benefit of the doubt to others; she was ever the pacifist within the family and ferocious in defending without, putting her kids (first) and spouse in the front and center, so much so she subsumed her own personality and how she grew up pre-marriage. She wasn't always like this; until upto middle years in college, she was brash and abrasive; but something switched on during the final years, when she became a follower of Puttaparthi Sai Baba and started volunteering in their medical camps. The one thing I am thankful for, is to have reconnected her to Sai-Bhajans during her treatment and last year - I used to go to the Sai temple here and do a video call as the poojai was going on.

To me, personally, she was the first one within the family that I usually talked to. If there was something that I need to get some perspective on, I'll send her a message or ping her. There weren't answers, but sure I was listened to; and that helped. I used to tell her of all the scenarios I had imagined through my life, she going this early was never one of them. In the past months, since she left there are several occasion, that I sense her absence, as I turn around to look for answers or even affirmation with something. She has left a chasm that I doubt can ever be filled. 

Last year, while she was going through the treatment, she and I had a bit of fun as I was walking around, showing the Christmas lights on video call. As we were going through the arches, I told her to duck her head as it may hit the arches - given she is quite tall; and she did that in fun as I walked through each of the lighted arches.

Yesterday, I went to that street - and walked through the arches. The memories of last year and everything else came back to me. How do I even fill that space that she left behind ? How do I even replace a friend of nearly 50+ years, who was my solid scaffold ? Probably never; but perhaps, I'm hoping the past memories she left behind, would be the one that stand in her stead.

Oh, I'm pretty sure yesterday as I was walking through those lighted arches, up there, she ducked her head - as a loyal friend and loving sister, she always humored me and my painfully stupid jokes !

Love you acca and will forever miss you! 

(ps: I'm writing this, as I'm listening to your favourite SPB songs)

Good bye!

As I walk through this house, there is an indescribable sense of melancholy mixed with nostalgic happiness. I see my dad's presence as I go through each room to secure the windows, close the cupboards and cover the furniture. Perhaps for the last time as an owner or as a resident. (I don't think I will come back and stay in this house. The next time it will be probably to sell the house).

I go into a room. I can imagine him sitting there peering at the computer and at the phone OTP that he just received. I come to the hall and I can see him sitting on one of the sofas.  As I look at the TV, I cannot but picture him sitting in front of it watching a serial very intently and telling why the character should not behaving the way they are in the story. Or I see him, arguing, debating something with my sister who has just arrived from Mumbai because we are all here. I can really really sense a total joy in his voice as he talks to her -  that joy that never ever have I seen when he talks to me. But that's fine. I know that she was his favorite. But I also know that he was extremely proud of me and what I've done in general and what I've done for him and my mother. But I digress...

For some reason my dad fell in love with this house. I had bought this house for them, as their earlier residence was on third floor without a lift and they were getting by in their age. When I asked him why he liked this house so much that he refused to move to assisted living in his later and tougher-to-live-alone years, especially during Covid years, he always pointed to his memories - that so many things happened in this house. He used to say that all his grandchildren's pre-marriage functions were here, and this is where he built a lot of memories post retirement. He said he felt true joy and peace, in this house - more of it when his favorites grand kids and daughter* visited.

I also wonder given his  nomadic adult life, the last ~25 years of his life were anchored to this house. All his life, he was always moving around towns every few years due to his job. Maybe he was just tired of being a perennial itinerant. Maybe this house provided him a permanence where he could actually retire and rest. Maybe that is what made him love this house, because it gave him that anchor that he missed all his adult life. 

It's almost a year since he went and I'm still grappling, with little clue, of how to handle the loss. There always seems to be things that I could have done differently the last year of his life, but then I think it will always be like that.  This is something that I would have talked to my sister but... ... 

Today we'll lock up the house and prepare to travel out back to our home. Maybe selling this house also cements my memory of him and helps me to move on.

Maybe he is looking at me right now from up above smiling and turning around and telling my sister "...whatever he does, he will make the right decision...(eventually!! 😋)"  as he had told me so many times, with pride in his voice.

Goodbye house, goodbye dear appa. Tears well up, but I think they point little to a lingering sorrow, but more to a closure of the past and moving on to the future - that is hopeful, filled with your blessings for us, and especially, for your favorite grandson! 🙏🏽

Good bye! Love you, miss you!

(I used Google Translate to get a tamil version of the write-up for my mom - this is what I got)

பிரியாவிடை!

 இந்த வீட்டின்  அறைகளை நான் நடந்து செல்லும்போது, ​​ஏக்கம் கலந்த மகிழ்ச்சியுடன் ஒரு விவரிக்க முடியாத சோகம் உள்ளது.  ஜன்னல்களைப் பத்திரப்படுத்தவும், அலமாரிகளை மூடவும், தளபாடங்களை மூடவும் ஒவ்வொரு அறை வழியாகச் செல்லும்போதும் என் அப்பாவின் இருப்பை நான் என் மனதில் காண்கிறேன்.  

இதுவே இந்த வீட்டின் உரிமையாளராக அல்லது குடியிருப்பாளராக கடைசி முறயாய் இருக்கலாம்.  (நான் திரும்பி வந்து இந்த வீட்டில் தங்குவேன் என்று நினைக்கவில்லை. அடுத்த முறை வரும் போது வீட்டை விற்க நேரிடும்).

 நான் ஒரு அறைக்குள் செல்கிறேன்.  அப்பா அங்கேயே அமர்ந்து கணினியையும், அவர் பெற்ற தொலைபேசி OTPயையும் உற்றுப் பார்ப்பதை என்னால் கற்பனை செய்து பார்க்க முடிகிறது.  நான் ஹாலுக்கு வருகிறேன், அவர் ஒரு சோஃபாவில் அமர்ந்திருப்பதை நான் பார்க்கிறேன்.  நாங்கள் அனைவரும் இங்கே இருப்பதால் மும்பையில் இருந்து வந்த என் சகோதரியுடன் ஏதோ விவாதம்.  அவர் அவளுடன் பேசும் போது, அவர் குரலில் ஒரு முழுமையான மகிழ்ச்சியை என்னால் உண்மையில் உணர முடிகிறது -  அவர் என்னிடம் பேசும் போது நான் பார்த்திராத அந்த மகிழ்ச்சி.  ஆனால் பரவாயில்லை.  அவள் அவருக்கு மிகவும் பிடித்தவள் என்று எனக்குத் தெரியும்.  ஆனால் அவர் என்னைப் பற்றியும், பொதுவாக நான் என்ன செய்திருக்கிறேன் என்பதையும், அவருக்கும் என் அம்மாவிற்கும் நான் என்ன செய்தேன் என்பதையும் பற்றி அவர் மிகவும் பெருமைப்படுகிறார் என்பதையும் நான் அறிவேன்.  நான் டிவியைப் பார்க்கும்போது, ​​​​அவர் அதன் முன் அமர்ந்து ஒரு சீரியலை மிகவும் உன்னிப்பாகப் பார்ப்பதையும், அந்தக் கதாபாத்திரம் ஏன் கதையில் அவர்கள் இவ்வாறு நடக்க  கூடாது என்று சொல்வதையும் என்னால் கற்பனை செய்ய முடிகிரது.

 சில காரணங்களால் என் அப்பா இந்த வீட்டை மிகவும் ஆசையோடு விரும்பினார்.  லிப்ட் இல்லாமல் மூன்றாவது மாடியில் அவர்கள் முன்பு தங்கியிருந்ததாலும், அவர்கள் வயதை எட்டியதாலும் நான் அவர்களுக்காக இந்த வீட்டை வாங்கினேன்.  இந்த வீடு ஏன் அவருக்கு மிகவும் பிடிக்கும் என்று நான் அவரிடம் கேட்டபோது, ​​அவர் தனது --- பிற்கால மற்றும் கடினமான தனிமைப் பருவங்களில், குறிப்பாக கோவிட் ஆண்டுகளில் கூட ஏன் இந்த வீட்டில் இருக்க ஆசை --- அவர் எப்போதும் தனது நினைவுகளை சுட்டிக்காட்டினார் - பல விஷயங்கள் காண்டறது  இந்த வீடு.  அவர் தனது பேரக்குழந்தைகளின் திருமணத்திற்கு முந்தைய செயல்பாடுகள் அனைத்தும் இங்கே இருப்பதாகவும், ஓய்வுக்குப் பிறகு அவர் நிறைய நினைவுகளை உருவாக்கினார்.  இந்த வீட்டில் தான் உண்மையான மகிழ்ச்சியையும் அமைதியையும் உணர்ந்ததாக அவர் கூறினார் - அவருக்குப் பிடித்த பேரக்குழந்தைகள் மற்றும் மகள்கள்* வருகை தந்தபோது.

அவரது  நாடோடியான வாழ்க்கையைப் பார்க்கும்போது, ​​அவரது வாழ்க்கையின் கடைசி ~25 ஆண்டுகள் இந்த வீட்டில் நங்கூரமிடப்பட்டிருப்பதையும் நான் ஆச்சரியப்படுகிறேன்.  அவர் தனது வாழ்நாள் முழுவதும், தனது வேலையின் காரணமாக சில வருடங்களுக்கு ஒருமுறை வேலை மாற்ற காரணத்தால் நகரங்களை சுற்றி வந்தார்.  ஒருவேளை அவர் ஒரு வற்றாத பயணியாக இருப்பதில் சோர்வாக இருந்திருக்கலாம்.  ஒருவேளை இந்த வீடு அவருக்கு ஒரு நிரந்தரத்தை வழங்கியிருக்கலாம். அங்கு அவர், உண்மையில் வேலை-ஓய்வு பெற்று ஒரே இடத்தில் ஓய்வெடுக்கலாம் என்று நினைத்திருக்க கூடும். ஒருவேளை அதுவே அவரை இந்த வீட்டை நேசிக்க வைத்தது, ஏனென்றால் அது அவருக்கு அந்த நங்கூரத்தைக் கொடுத்தது.

அவர் சென்று ஏறக்குறைய ஒரு வருடமாகியும், இழப்பை எப்படிக் கையாள்வது என்று சிறிய துப்பு இல்லாமல் நான் இன்னும் போராடிக் கொண்டிருக்கிறேன்.  அவருடைய வாழ்க்கையின் கடைசி ஆண்டில் நான் வித்தியாசமாகச் செய்திருக்கக்கூடிய விஷயங்கள் எப்போதும் இருப்பதாகத் தெரிகிறது, ஆனால், அது எப்போதும் அப்படித்தான் இருக்கும் என்று நினைக்கிறேன்.  

இன்று நாங்கள் இந்த வீட்டைப் பூட்டிவிட்டு எங்கள் வீட்டிற்குத் திரும்புவதற்குத் தயாராகிறோம்.  ஒருவேளை இந்த வீட்டை விற்பது அவரைப் பற்றிய எனது அனந்த நினைவுகளை உறுதிப்படுத்துகிறது; மற்றும் நான் நகர்வதற்கு உதவக்கூடும்.

அவர் இப்போதும் மேலே இருந்து என்னைப் பார்த்து சிரித்துக்கொண்டே திரும்பி, என் அக்காவிடம் "... அவன் என்ன செய்தாலும், அவன் சரியான முடிவை எடுப்பான்...(இறுதியில்!! 😋)"  என்று சொல்லிக் கொண்டிரப்பார், அவரது குரலில் பெருமிதத்துடன்.

குட்பை ஹவுஸ், குட்பை டியர் அப்பா.  கண்ணீர் பெருக்கெடுக்கிறது, ஆனால், அவை கடந்த  துக்கத்தை சிறிதளவு சுட்டிக்காட்டினாலும், அது கடந்த காலத்தை மூடிவிட்டு, எதிர்காலத்தை நோக்கி நகர்கின்றன - இது நம்பிக்கைக்குரியது, எங்களுக்காகவும், குறிப்பாக உங்களுக்கு பிடித்த பேரனுக்கும் உங்கள் ஆசீர்வாதங்களால் நிரம்பியுள்ளது!  🙏🏽

 பிரியாவிடை அப்பா!  உன்னை நேசிக்கிறேன், உன்னை miss செய்கிறேன்... ஆனால் உன் ஆசியுடன், எதிர் காலத்தை எதிர் நோக்கி பார்கிறேன் ! 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

The Winter's Grace

Never a complete zero

Neither the (chosen) one,

Nary a dream being an hero

Nor, with skills a ton.

No illusions of grandeur epical

Been a half-way decimal !

Never sought the bright light

Nor the anonymity of dark night

While on the roads straight

Curious with fringes I strayed !

Between the black and white

Have stood, enamoured by twilight!

Gone are those flames of fall,

In this icy morning pall,

Barren trees stick eerie,

The heavy mist rolls in quietly

Street opaque, ahead unseen,

Returning to comfort, I lean!

Deep inside, rises a stirring,

The chill, cold, but refreshing,

Glades sparkles of moist dew,

Birds tweet from their perilous pew,
of faith of day anew.

Piercing the ashen pale, a ray

Or is it hope thataway ?

The grey now holds me

In a gentle embrace, light

Casting path a new sight.

As the long gone dead

Gratefully, once said,

Getting to, at ease, I embrace

Not just a touch, but swathe of grays !

The Fire pit

Should I cross that high bridge
And climb that steep ridge

Should I take on those woes,

Dare to put on the brave shoes

To walk these hard streets

Or buy myself two cold feet?

Should I dare to strife

with things that come to head in life?

Or should I put up these cold feet

With a drink neat in retreat,

Watching life as it passes by?

I'll catch it another day before I die.

Tired to the bone, back I sit,

I'm done, just eff it!

What's the damn point, I rage, I rant

Two cold feet I firmly plant

Comfortably frozen, I stand rooted...

But the voice in me, refused to be muted.

As I look to push away the plate of grits,

A shadow glosses over my nits

Over my flaws, a tapestry knit,

She resets the pieces to a future fit.

I hear a slow rumble in tummy pits...

Are those antsy butterfly flits?

Or are those, long gone embers, relit !