I want to bury my nose in your cheeks,
with our fingers intertwined,
Your body resting on mine,
And me, taking in all your smell,
And I shall call it heaven.
What a year it has been.Particularly, the past few weeks. The last semester was project, which meant a lot of things to do. Long tiring days of work+project,and I was chosen as the project manager.Though this means I had less to worry on technical stuff, stressed myself a lot unnecessarily.And then some major stuff at work that I had to plan, including technical stuff.
A lot of worrying,and stressful days. But hey, there are finally over.An end to the 2.5 years of self-doubts and torture called part-time degree.
Now that I’m done with the degree, the relief is immense. It is indescribable. I feel a weight has been taken off my chest(and my brain).
Now is the time to unlearn and start learning what I really want to learn.
The only problem is finding out what I really want to learn.I want to learn everything,
so I find myself jumping from topic to topic and going in circles.
Anyway, taking a quiet and much deserved break for myself now. I’ll get to travel to Germany next year,in January, (oh wait, that’s next week!) as part of work,
so there’s that. I would so love to have a traditional dinner with a German family, but that is perhaps hoping too much.Starting the year with a travel to an unknown place, weather and people.
And the best part is, I somehow feel happier. That the best part of my life is yet to come, and there is urge to start writing again.
This blog has remained silent for long, and that shall be the case no more.
I think next year is going to b-e-a-utiful.
There is something that is blocking me to be productive. I cant place my finger on it. It prevents me from thinking logically. It is preventing me from memorizing stuff.
It is not allowing me to do my assignments. I need help it seems. Or am I just being paranoid, because there is too much stress I cant handle?
I fear failure. I had an assumption that I was brilliant academically and that notion is shattering to pieces day by day.
I badly, badly need a break. Unfortunately, I won’t be getting that until after May, after the University trimester exams.
Then I’ll be going back to India in July.
Oh how I wish to lay my head on my mother’s lap! My heart earns for her gentle caress on my forehead, that chases all negative thoughts away.
Missing you very badly Mom 😥
ചില വാക്കുകൾ വിത്തുകളായി മനസ്സിൽ പതിച്ചു. കണ്ണുനീർ അതിനെ നനച്ചു. വെന്തുരുകിയ നെഞ്ചു ചൂടേകി. ആ വിത്തുകൾ വളർന്നു, അവയുടെ വേരുകൾ ആ മണ്ണിലേക്കാഴ്ന്നിറങ്ങി. ഋതുക്കൾ വന്നു പോയി. ചെടികൾ വളർന്നു മരങ്ങളായി. കായ്കൾ കായ്ച്ചു. പക്ഷികൾ ചേക്കേറി, അവിടമിന്നൊരു വനമായി. അതിലൂടൊഴുകുന്നൊരു പുഴയുടെ തീരത്തു, ഒരു വാക മരത്തിൻ തണലിൽ ഞാൻ മയങ്ങി. സ്വപ്നങ്ങളില്ലാത്ത ഉറക്കം. ഉറങ്ങി എഴുന്നേറ്റപ്പോൾ മുൻപിൽ മറ്റൊരു തൈ വളർന്നു വന്നിരിക്കുന്നത് കണ്ണിൽ പെട്ടു. ഞാൻ ഒരുപാട് നേരം ഉറങ്ങിയിരിക്കണം. എങ്കിലും ഇതു ഞാൻ പാകിയതു തന്നെയോ? ചെറുതെങ്കിലും, അതിൽ പൂക്കളുണ്ട്. സായാഹ്ന സൂര്യന്റെ ചുവപ്പു നിറമുള്ള പൂക്കൾ.
Came across this video below a few days back. To say I was stunned would be an understatement. This is what I love best about cinema- the visual art. It stirs and moves something inside you. It makes you writhe with pleasure to see something you can identify with. Something you long to return to, something that has been lost ever since you grew up. Something this current generation will never be able to understand. Our childhood, the safely kept aside, hidden, sweet childhood.
What astonishes me is the total lack of applause for this visual treat. It speaks tons, my readers, tons!
My own childhood is very well a blend of this, heavily leaning to the rural side.
It shows the life of two girls growing up. One, a rural life, a conformist, the other, a rebel.Even at this time, the director was able to portray the rural life quite accurately. The visuals might resonate best with women from Kerala,India.
The actors, the growing up phases. Even the scene where the milk glass is on the ground and biscuits around it is oh so lovely! How both women looks at the world around them, their doubts, their anxieties, the curiosity about their bodies, Aashique Abu, you deserve a golden globe, sir.
There exists a third category, a blend of these two. I am one of them. Sometimes I feel this identity crisis- am I a village boy, or an urban one?
You can check out the lyrics here.
More than just being curious about sex, I crave for intimacy.
I wonder how it is to sit beside a person. To have her head on my shoulders. To entwine my fingers with hers. To kiss her on the forehead, and then talk about something, anything – a past memory, a future plan.
To sit somewhere windy, to feel that wind, and to hold her close. That sense of being together.
It must feel wonderful. Isn’t it?
You lucky little fucking couples.
I’m one of those people who despises people who are naive. So much that, this post itself is a blaring horn of hypocrity.
I confess. I’m a weak person. Although I do not like taking selfies, I’m a sucker for a good picture of mine. Especially because it’s very rare that I get a good picture of me. Top points if my wild hair looks cool. I will be the one usually, behind the camera, to get a good picture of other people. And people in return helps to take piss poor picture of me with the same camera.
Now before you judge, I was not insisting(much) to take these pictures. My colleague had bought a camera and wanted to try taking some pictures. I obliged. And me so happy with the pictures that I wanted to share it here.
Then again, this is my bloody blog and I can put whatever the fuck I want. This is me on a friday night (Saturday morning) after work around 3AM Singapore time.
I will need to create a section where I can post the most beautiful song lyrics that I have come across. English, malayalam, tamil and Hindi shall be covered mostly.
Netru Illaathe Maattram Ennathu? 😉
Ever since I read “Snow” back in 2007, the single most important book in my life, I always wanted to read another one by Pamuk. I did find his books in the library, but for some unknown reason, I didn’t want to read them. Remember, I was 15 when I read Snow, and was enchanted, but deep down in my heart, I knew, I wasn’t mature enough to grasp his thoughts and similes.
Every time I went to the library, this thought nagged me, and was somehow forgotten, yet still there, like that object in your desk. You know its there, you are aware of it, but you dont glance at it often enough.
And now, 8 years after Snow, I laid my hands on “My Name is Red”.
Finally I can be at peace temporarily, for this is another book that will alwas be in that special drawer.
Orhan Pamuk, you are more than a master storyteller. You are much above that, and deserves to be among the living legends. I do not have enough words in me to describe my affection for you and your words, and I shall not attempt to do so either.
All I can say is, Thank You Sir.