When death is no longer sacred, or secretive.
When it's details are made into a formula
And the act itself reversible.
Like a chemical reaction...
The first city that i visited as a professional with my father. We visited the meenakshi temple in the evening. He had said that we would see the temple elephant, but were told that it had gone out just then. A bit disappointed, we saw the goddess and the lord, admired the 1000 pillar mandapam and then prayed at the kalyanasundaresar sannidhi for an early and happy marriage for my then 23 year old self. As we were going out, we saw the golden chariot being drawn. And then, we saw the baby elephant.
I remember my mother chatting on yahoo chat, saying that she had a terrific experience, with my father being completely unreachable for 2 days in madurai.
I remember staying at college house and visiting tafe with my father after returning from the US, thinking what a whole lot of tractors!!!
I remember visiting for Raj's wedding, when my mom had a really bad back ache for the first time.
Madurai - very fondly remembered.
I remember being put to sleep on my father's shoulders - he used to walk around the garden singing abcd... After my brother and i grew up a bit, he used to tell us stories and put us to sleep. Or rather, he used to fall asleep telling stories!! We would try waking him up or prodding him to tell us the story correctly. He used to reply that the protagonist of the story had gone off to sleep or was busy in a meeting or had taken the train and it could be continued only the next night. The stories would evolve every day based on what was happening in the city, in house, office, with his friends etc. We could also actively contribute and turn the story which ever way we wanted. Our favorite story was that of the chundakkai, a tiny bitter berry, which was always taking off from his mother plant and running away to explore the world. In his honor, i present Chindu the chundakkai story, as it is evolving with my brats. I am just writing out the rhymes, leaving out the tamil story portion. Will try to get it out in a bit.
ஒரு ஊரில், ஒரு farmer தாத்தா இருந்தாராம். Daily, அவர், .தன் வயலில் வளௌந்த காய்கரிகளை பறித்து, தனது கூடையில் எடுத்துக் கொண்டு சந்தைக்கு
To the market, to the market, to the market off we go!
In a basket, in a basket, in a basket off we go!
Here comes a red car
The market is so far
Will you please take us along??
We will sing you a beautiful song
Carrots, beans and peas
Baked in cottage cheese
Yummy yummy yum
Thank you, my dear mum
Oh my, oh dear
You came without telling your mum?!!
She will fret and fear
search far and near
Wont rest till she knows you are safe and here.
What have you done, you naughty baby bum!!?
The note book lay forgotten amidst the numerous momentos and trinkets collected over the years. The metaphors rose and fell as the pages lazily turned under the breeze.
The rustle, more than the movement caught her attention. She snatched the book out of his reach, just as he was about to get it. It was snacks time!!
The scar was there for all to see. The dark red lines etched deep over her skin. Emblazoned just above her blouse. Left anyone who visited her wondering how deep it went and how such a frail body had withstood so much.
No one would have guessed the tattoo to hold so much pain inside.
Abuse is never just physical.