In quotes.


“Shoo! Aishu be quiet. Don’t make noise around here. Can’t you see they are discussing something serious with your Mom.”
Following this statement, I was forbidden from the living room.
Being a kid obviously I had curiosity regarding what the matter was.

The thing that had this secret affair with our living room.

Mama always seemed to be angry with me on one thing or the other. But at times she would shower affection on me by hugging me so intensely and thereby making it hard  for me to breathe.

The only relief for me, the one person who filled me with affection always was my  DaaduDaadu would lift me up and swing me around when I get burnt by Mama’s flames of anger.

Mama was never like this before. It was only after Sachii was gone that things changed. Sachii, my papa.
Sachii, that was how I used to call him. He was the exact opposite of Mama. Quite chilled out and easy going, we made the best father daughter duo. But whenever Mama and Sachii came together all I could hear were shrieks and shouts. And once he came to me, he would become my old Sachii again. Once when the fight reached a bad stage, Sachii left home. He still comes to visit me but he no more comes back home. I used to miss him a lot in the beginning but gradually it too got buried with a thousand such other feelings.

Mama grew more and more silent as days went by. She now barely held me, kissed or even smiled at me . Daadu too was growing dull and silent and I missed Sachii. But why had Sachii left home? I pondered over it in my mind but couldn’t bring myself up to give voice to those thoughts to anyone.
Even to Sachii.
As the days passed the house became a sullen place where three strangers assembled together only at the time of food. I never voiced my queries which grew along with me. Even after completing my schooling , college and being the head of our company, taking mama’s place but no longer turning living rooms into office rooms like she did, I continued to have those queries that the younger me lived with.
Mama and I , never did we have a one to one conversation. It was always business that ruled our talks . And as to Sachii he had long stopped visiting me. Nor did I try to meet him.

One day I received a call. It was Sachii. I found it hard to recognise him in the beginning but soon felt the warmth pouring in and knew that it was him.

I asked him were he was all these years and why he hadn’t come to visit me..but his voice was trembling and amidst sobs all he repeated was that he was a coward and will not ever dare to face Mama or me. He hung up saying a sorry which got drowned in his sobs.

That day back home I was determined to ask about Sachii and why he left us to Mama. After some minutes of thought I went into her room.On finding her sleeping , I turned to leave with the idea of postponing my queries. But it is when she woke up and enquired as to why I had come to her.

“Why did Sachii leave us, Mama?”

Something of a mixture of grief and disgust filled her face as it slowly reddened . She shouted asking to not dare to repeat his name in front of her once more as he was nothing but a coward. She continued to shout and curse and held me responsible for this life of her’s. Enraged and frustrated I too spoke out, blaming her for making me live the life of an orphan.

That silenced her. And her silence made my heart grow heavier.

After a small hiatus, she started speaking.

“Sachii, though  he is your father, is not my husband . You are the result of our extramarital affair. I was married to Sachii’s brother Prabhu. But once I got pregnant with you Prabhu knew that you weren’t his progeny. It led to constant fights between us which ended in his suicide.”

“Mama but why?

Why did you develop such an affair with his brother ?”

Fighting with her sobs, she replied,

“Sachii was always her lover and the marriage with Prabhu was done under the pressure Daadu had put on her. Thus against her will . Even after marriage she was unable to keep herself away from Sachii.

After Prabhu’s death it was decided that Sachii would live with us. He was interested in inheriting the position and company of Prabhu but not his wife. He feared the impact it would have on his name and clear-chit character. That conflict continued for a while . And one day  Sachii left the home and never came back.”

Daadu  who cursed himself for this spoiled life of his daughter lived as a silent witness till his last breath. Mama never called Sachii back and never did he come back.

But in this tug of wars, I was the one who actually lost, my childhood, my parents and all the love that I deserved.

I shouted , finding it unable to control my tears and banged the door behind.

I can no more sleep when I realise I’m getting victimised and silenced same time even without me knowing. All had a say i my life except me. I’m not even left with a colorful memory of my childhood with my parents in it atleast to brag upon ; its all filled with “Aishu shoo! “

Even while strangled by such thoughts I do realise one thing.

However entangled one might be in the relations of blood, some stay orphaned.

The end.

Lured as always.

Ottal through my eyes

Faced with a pretty long night to pull through, I thought of watching a film suggested by my friend long before. She kept on persuading that finally, I had to watch it. Yet it had been a month since I downloaded the movie but didn’t watch and each time she enquired I came up with new excuses.


But this time I felt like viewing some thing different from the usual hungama movies and decided to watch Ottal: the Trap. A movie based on Vanka, the short story by Anton Chekov. The movie is directed by Jayraj and music score is by Kavalam Narayana Panicker. As these details suggest its not going to have any kind of commerical elements in it. The movie is set in Kuttanad, the backwaters of Kerala. Each shot in this film manages to explore its beauty to the fullest.




The plot is built on the intense theme of an orphan boy Kuttapayi who lives with his grandpa whom he calls Valiyapchayi, after the death of his parents. Things went well for Kuttapayi till his Valyapchayi fell ill. Unlike most of the kids he never went to school although he longed, but was exposed to the ways of nature sooner and more vividly than any other kid. Under the pretence of education the child is taken away to a place that resemble Tamilian culture where he is forced to do work of making fire crackers at the young age of eight. The boy often gets beaten up and is put to starve. The film ends on a positive note of hope.


The movie addresses contemporary issues including agricultural loan crisis because of which his parents commit suicide. It tries to warn us about the issues of childlabour that still hasn’t got wiped out completely. The film maintains a dull tone throughout but has beautiful visuals that fully capture the beauty of the Kuttanad, its life and people.


The film leaves a haunting sensation and instills thought in us. But a question which I’m not sure whether rational or reasonable is still annoying me… Are the fire crackers, that we blow up each Diwali, drenched in the cries of such innocent beings who are trapped in a stroke of bad luck…?

P.S: Happy Diwali.

The art films too are interesting.



Digression from the monotony








She was deceptive; She could smile even while an ocean roared within her.
She lived on..only to learn that it was just the same old life.
Too easy it was to sketch her physique..but her mind, never can you manage to get hold of it.
A confused Soul..she was..caught in between her Dreams, Reality and Freedom.
Sensuality that adorned her was suppressed and subdued, only to cost her..her Dignity.
Twisted and tangled.. Yet beautiful was her life..
And cheers to her desires.. that knew no bounds!

Listening to Indian Beats

Every journey is an escape that leads one to an experience.

After completion of my graduation I was constantly facing the question of what now? Overcome by pressure I thought it was high time to take a break and decided to go on a tour. Many tourist websites were surfed , pages of numerous travel magazines were flipped over . But the question of finance wasnt one we could settle in all the tour packages I came across.

One day father called me to suggest a tour package offered by the Indian Railway known as ‘Bharat Darshan’. It offered a journey by train of ten days to visit four important places in India: Agra ,Delhi, Jaipur and Ajmer. The tour package seemed feasible as it demanded only eight thousand per head including food and accommodation. So this package was finalised and I set out for the trip.

Unlike others my excitement at first was not over the trip but as I could escape from the ever haunting question at least for a while. But soon it turned out to be a journey of experience…a once in a life time experience!


Glimpses from the journey



Spread across like a sea

Yet charmingly flowing river

Kaveri River


Holy Ganga in ruins

Ganga River


Goods trains from the mines of Madhya Pradesh



Apparitions that come and go by…

Glimpses from the Railway Station

Madhya Pradesh


Watching the Sun set is joyous

No matter if it’s in the Sea or on mere barren land

Setting Sun ending the day


Thousand calls have I had to lay on your lap

Under the shades of  Father,

  O Mother Earth

Premises of Qutub Minar


Yes I eat your land 

And breath out fumes.

Factories in Gujarat

I thought of not including the pictures of Tajmahal or the four main places that I visited , as most of you are quite familiar with it and as my focus is not on them but rather on the few glances my eyes caught on the way.

Few sights were there which no camera could capture and which created in me an urge to jot it down. One such was the sight in Gujarat station where men, women along with children were relieving in open spaces near railway tracks in wide view of all passengers. They had only a mug of water in their hands. I could not find any feeling of shame on their faces, not even in the face of women maybe as they had no other way. At first it was embarrassing, later I felt sympathy which ended up in a sense of resentment towards those in power. Those were the sights that one would least expect even in their nightmares.

Another troubling sight was to see the widespread use of tobacco both by men and women in equal measure. Happy that the use of liquor is comparatively less but still these addicts are forgetting the fact that smoking really can kill.

Gujarat doesn’t offer any sight of lush green but is abundantly rich in factories, big and small , in all possible corners . One can not find a single river that hasn’t either dried up or isn’t highly polluted.

The last sight that struck me the most was the tribal way of using vehicle the people without a tinch of concern for the fellow travellers or for the passengers. Horns with piercing sound breaks through the ear drums making us a real dumb in all sense. In the morning by no time urban roads turns to a mess especially in Agra with the traffic rules being defied in all possible way by the masses.

It is true, what our Father of Nation once said, “To know the real India travel through its villages”. For me it was possible to grasp a portion of what rural India is only because of the train journey I could undertake. Though my destinations were quite eye capturing , it was certain other sights that I mentioned above that actually captured my heart! Though they weren’t pleasant in the least possible way, they finally gave way to experiences.

And now I’m back to face the same old question for yet another course of time. I guess one needs to travel for a while when questions raised by life makes you too weary and in such journeys destinations are least important. Just remember to  keep your eyes and ears wide open. Who knows, the journey itself turns into destination at times!

Bottle of emptiness



Green was its color

But its emptiness remained colorless,

Bottle seemed to be closed

But its emptiness remained untrapped,

Elongated the bottle was

But emptiness fully occupied it,

Similar was that emptiness

To the one I experience.

Does that prove,

Emptiness fills in you and me?



It was simply a bottle,

with emptiness in it.


A weekend of My Dear Zindagi

    “Hey, any plans for this weekend? or just the usual? Facebook,Whatspp blah blah..?”

      I know the question was rapid or out of the blue 😁 But trust me the reply too was rapid from my funkies.

    “Dear Zindagi!!!”, they began to shout.

    “Let’s go for it this weekend”,they chimed in. Remember girls room sucks at times. 😐😅

    “Oh no,no movies atleast this time, please yaar” I begged in vain.

     Its not that I’m indifferent to movies but didn’t had the mood for one! You know for me moods  really matter😅.As the majority stood for the movie , sadly I too had to get along with my gang of movie buffs and head to watch that movie.

     We settled down fast as there wasn’t much rush at that point of time. Soon many youngsters turned up .Without much interest I looked on as the film began. Continue reading “A weekend of My Dear Zindagi”

Musings over the sunset


She stood wondering where reddish sea got merged with sky 💭

while waves playfully swept over her feet and

salty breeze pampered her hair 💖.

Photo Challenge: Shine

via Photo Challenge: Shine






“The sun is new each day🌞”

Weekly Photo Challenge



When the dark clouds of worry,

anger or doubt begin to move upon you,

steady yourself

in the knowledge that in time,

the storm will pass.

Bryant Mcgill


Weekly Photo Challenge : Mirror