THE BLACK BUTTERFLY

The blackness is the beauty. The blackness too. The eye, when sees beyond the usual monotony called- the beauty- sees things that it can't see. It does. There are words that describe things in such way so as to make the brain understand about those better. Mind does not understand words. Mind knows. The blackness, in it, needed no words. It was there. To be understood. Sometimes, the eyes become moist. Most times. Why? I have heard people say- "It's because of the beauty". Is that so? I think it is something more than that. Beauty is material. Something like the rock. Something like- green. The point that is beyond is the 'Black'. That is not beauty. That is something more than beauty.

*****

I am thinking. The 'black'. What could that be? What powers does it have to make the eyes moist? It is not allowed to make me weak. It could not control me. It is 'black'. I am thinking. But it is something beyond thought, as well. What is it? It's the beginning. It is the end. "Beginning is beautiful", I've heard people say. It's not Earth. It's not water. It's beyond all that. Hence, it is not beauty. It's 'black'. It's present, everywhere. Only that, one needs to see it. Identify that which one can't see.

*****

It flies, I found. It's movement is found by the blackness it leaves behind. What brings the smile in me is this. The black left behind, can never be seen. Can never be found. There are times when one feels like seeing that blackness just once more. Feeling guilty for not identifying the black when it was present in front of them. It's chosses to remain a faded memory.

*****

It flutters, the black, here, in front of me. I realize it. The moment I do, it's all around. Revealing itself to me. Black. The moment before life. The pulse of life. The world inside the one who lives in the world outside. The self reflected through another's. The moment of the pulse lost. Present, then gone. The vaccum. The Black Butterfly. Pulse. Life.

*****

JANMABHOOMI - (Mother Earth)

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So many things had changed, since I had left the place. But travel, remained the same. Long, tiresome but exciting. The bus was slower than the bullock cart riding along with us. Yet, I was happy. I got to live the past again- as I crawled through the roads, the trees, the temple. But the air was new. The people were new.

Parimalgram was not some place that would go away from one’s mind- that easily. It had the life in it, that made it eternal- a cherished memory-in the minds of people who had been there. The soil, the aroma- the birds and trees- hawkers, butchers, sweet vendors- school masters. Everything about the place, had life in them.

At a certain age, in one’s life, just when we would think that the people around you are the ones who understand you perfectly, you’d actually begin to realize that they, in reality, could never understand you at all. There was always this gap in you that could never be filled. And you learn to live with it. Accepting differences- which you could never do, until a few years back!

Sometime back, I had this thought that I should visit Parimalgram with my family- show my wife where I was born- my kids- the school where I studied. When I expressed this thought to them, they would not hear one word of it!

“A village! Do you even realize how unhygienic it would be…” said my wife. I didn’t feel like arguing. My kids too, wouldn’t hear about being somewhere without T/V or A/C. But I couldn’t help it for long. So, one day, I just left. Following my heart. Seeking my destiny.

The bus came to a halt. The board was painted new. The soil was the same. I started to walk on those roads- once again. On those roads, I had left my foot prints as a boy. On them, I had dropped toffees- and had cried all the way back home. The soil reminded me of the boy who was the first to leave the place- to seek a different life- a better life. The soil, welcomed her son, home.

There were new houses. New streets. But my eyes, couldn’t wait to see the home I had lived. I lived on the third street. Everyone knew me as the “Pandit’s boy from the third street”. Will anyone recognize me now? I didn’t think so. I was now, different from what I was then. Suddenly, I heard someone call out “Oh! Pandit’s boy”! I was surprised and turned back. I saw someone calling out to a small boy about ten- who went running to answer, as soon as he heard the call.

Things had indeed changed. I was indeed a stranger who was desperately trying to see things around, the way they used to be. Trying to see the past from the present- assuring myself that I belonged there.

The thoughts had driven me to the third street- where I stood now, facing a series of houses and people, unknown. I walked past them, wondering about the changes- excited about my return. There, I could see my house. The house, where I was born, where I had uttered my first word- where my mother looked young!

Only now, it looked different. There were strangers, living in it. They took no notice of me. How long I had stood there, staring at the house- I do not know. But when I had realized that, I had started to walk.

Things change. And one must learn to accept and appreciate it. The bus was as slow as ever- and I could feel a strange emotion as I , moved away from Parimalgram. The place may have changed. The people may be different too. But the soil and the trees had recognized me. I had felt it. I traveled back to my future, carrying along the memories of my past- again, as a boy- who had left Parimalgram- to seek a new future- a new life.

THIS AIN'T! - A SONG FOR LIFE...

This ain't- the morn that should dawn

This ain't- the car I should have

This ain't- the speed I should ride in...

This ain't- the way I should walk

This ain't- the way I should talk

This ain't- the love I should be in...

But I do drive the speed- at break of the dawn

And talk as I walk- and I talk them, my mind

This is my dawn- that I know I do have

And I sing to my dawn, to my love...
----
This ain't- the life I wanted

This ain't- the song I would sing

This ain't- the road I should walk-in...

This ain't- the dream I should have

This ain't- the smile I could have

This ain't- the place I should be in...

But I do live to walk- on the road as I sing

And smile as I dream- wherever I be in

This is my life- that I know I do have

And I sing to my life, to my dream...

NEW BEGINNING- "MAITHTHULIKAL..."!

2010 began without much ado. There was nothing new. No excitement. Just a normal humdrum that felt extraordinary, just because the calender read "January 01 2010"! Is that fine? Could that be called normal? Yes. It was. For I am not someone who does things just because everyone else does that thing. But yes. I wanted something to happen this new year. Something creative. Genuine. That which I can call a "New Beginning".

"Maiththulikal"! (Ink drops...)

This thought came up on a dull Sunday evening, while I was frustrated about ... many things! The idea was simple. It would be a tamil blog. But the major factor there was- quality! I've had a minimal formal tamil education. I have read no books that are tamil. Listened though, to my mom reading out tamil stories. I enjoy the sound of the language. Never found patience nor the skills required to read the language!

Then why a blog in tamil?

It's an experiment. I wanted to attempt writing in tamil- so that, I test myself on the language. It would be a test- to prove to myself, basically, that a formal education in any language, is not what is required to kindle interest in the same. It would not be an attempt to honour the language or give life to one of the world's oldest languages! I am not interested in such things. It's a blog, which is in tamil, and which is written by me. My words. My thoughts. My inkdrops...

So, those of you, out there- the ones who can manage reading tamil!

Do visit my tamil blog- http://maiththuli.blogspot.com

Welcome all...!

VINNAITHAANDI VARUVAAYAA

Aromale!

It is love. Believe it. A lyrics such as that- should have a tune such as that. They go together! One can never go without the other. There could be no better tune to that!

Been addicted for a few days now.

It's refreshing. A new look towards the whole concept. And only He can create such a tune and make us understand it!

Anbil Avan

Initially, when I heard it- there were lots of tunes coming in and going out of my mind. "Saha.." portion of this song "Thaam thaka.." (Thamizhan), Rehman's very own "Boom Boom.."(Boys)- to name a few. But these kind of stuff keep happenning. "Kabhie Kabhie" from 'Jaane tu...."- beginning was rather like "Appudo Ippudo"(Bommarillu). But on second thoughts, we've got to accept that it's totally a new take! Chinmayi has been one of my favourites for some time now. Her voice brings out the essence of the beautifully!

Omana Penne

A feel-good tune! One can listen to it, anytime! But the tune feels great to listen, especially before the rain! Along with the breeze and the aroma of the fresh soil, getting ready for the showers from above! "Nadhaswaram" portion in it is beautifully blended...

Hosanna

When it starts- "Yaen ithayam..", I was mildly reminded of one of the greatest romantic numbers from Rehman- "Tu bin bataaye" (Rang de Basanthi). But when the "Hosanna" plays, you stop thinking about everything else. And I promise you, you would not stop singing to yourself for atleast a few hours after you listen to it! It's just Rehman there. Just Him alone...

These are the four best in there!
Not too keen about the movie after "Vaaranam Aayiram"! Liked Goutham Menon's work in "Vettayaadu Vilayaadu" though. I felt, it was even better than "Kaakka Kaakka". Not a Simbu fan either! But for Rehman....

A DIFFERENT DAY

Days have passed with the same old breeze knocking the doors. They have no new news to give. Just a wish to share this early morn! It has become a familiar routine. The breeze in the morn. The breeze, waving at you each day. The days looked alike.

A call from a less familiar number. You don’t require to change anything else, to make the morning different. The familiar voice had just a different tone. “Call her. Now. Call”.

The voice was vacant. It required no words. The silence in it spoke all the words that you need not hear. The few words that came were- “Come to me. To us”.

To be there is bad. But to not be there is worse. Strange thoughts of fear, engulf the mind like a plague. Shrinking the mind to a devil’s workshop. Thoughts forming awkward shapes on air. On the walls around. On the sky. Time and space never melts away. They stand, immortal, not bothered about the emotions within. Patience, they say, is a virtue. All talks of a happy mind!

I needed to get there, to be with them. I go off. I go off. My world was never hear. I float away to be with them. I go off… I go off…

[Just had this idea, on thoughts of a troubled mind]

GLOOM

There sure is a way out-

Or may be not

For no one has ever known

the way out from here.

We keep searching here-

Here and over there

No, may be not-

May be it's just not here!

Dead roses, dead leaves

Sans beauty, piled up in heat

Broken beads, breathing its last

Shrunk like the ghosts of Christmas past!

Doors! Doors! There I see!

As wide as a devil's glee!

I sprint with hope, my feet on air

I run, run, as the young brown mare!

May be the sand beneath my feet

Sent out an alarm, before my meet

For no more was there, a door that stood

But walls of stone, and not even wood!

I placed my hand, on those walls

Hoping to feel the reason for my fall

There was only, but the cold of the rock

Caging the lands wide, with gloom for the lock!