“She had the best answers to things, like she knew life even before she had lived it.” It was this interesting observation by my grandmother’s life made by people around her that led me to write these words. It took me long while to be able to write these words without crying. I wonder why, for really, the only real time I spent with her was during my few weekends away from VIT and there were very few lines of communication from me to her (there is only so much broken malayalam I can speak) and yet, I broke down seeing another old woman relive her memories with our batch at Anandwan. Why did I break down? Because to me the light that held it all together for me and made me “unscared” in a land of ghosts and superstition has now died down.

She was the most independent and fierce woman I have ever met. While to many, she was a ruler, her word being the last to decide a marriage, when a family moves into a new house, when it moves out, all such decision were made after a final word from her. To me, she was this rock, who has weathered endless pain, has lived through glory and grief all in one life and has come out unscathed.

In the last days of her life, she was working on a memoir. Whatever she remembered, the stories she told of this magical kingdom of ghosts and fairies, the one I tell my friends about!

Sometimes I feel I started writing because of her, for she was a poet, only she lived her poetry and I wrote mine. I wonder if Ill ever truly grieve her loss, because to me she was, is and will be an eternal artist, courageous, bold and yet graceful.

I can imagine very little of my father’s village without her, I wonder whether I’ll ever have the strength to go back and visit the empty room and endure the void. I wonder if she thought of me, before passing away, just a fleeting thought of what I’d be doing or whether I’d remember what she told me.

For now, she lives in that land far far away, a land where all her stories were true, a land where she is still the queen and her title still matters. She lives, whispering her tales to me in my dreams.

To my grandma, I will remember…all of it.

Solitude in Silence

I dream of a voice
in a blissful thought
an endless noise
in a place unsought

seek pleasures in small silences
in unending embraces
I run through life
hoping for more spaces

Weaving through a ridiculous story
a pure and guarded glee
I protect my dreams from the world
as they are what making me…me

Silences are louder
than a thousand screams
I sit alone in thought
but they’re all there in my dreams….

My friends of past
the ghosts that last
the voices I hear
the life I endear

An angel

A hooded lie
these endless skies tell
an innocent surprise
where my angels dwell

They hover and fly
looking down at us
little do they know our faiths rely
on their wings of dust

At length it comes
a distant shadow of a dream
it wakes you up and breaks you down
until you hear yourself scream

A written word is louder
than a spoken thought
an unsaid feeling stronger still
Am I the victim of the faith I sought?

I don the role of the angel
only to have my wings cut down
reality is fortunately stranger
than my pen’s fictional sound

The Black Swan

Stuck in a dream cloud
I worship thee, 
in you my dreams and nightmares you dwell
when in reality…you are me
A night for the insane
a day for perfection
in thee I find
my true self’s reflection
You are my eternity
my banal epiphany
You my expectation
my mortal enemy
Your will will break me
set me free in a misty glee
Your blood is in my hands
Alas, You…are, in fact, me…