Poured out Like Water

Water has no color of its own. It reflects...or it lets the color of the container shine through. It doesn’t have a shape of its own either. Flows into whichever shape it’s poured out to. Very essential for sustaining life. Taken for granted until it’s unavailable.

Defines a mother as well. She is poured out into a cook, cleaner, tutor, driver...Chaperone...sometimes even a doctor. We miss her when she is not around but we hardly glorify her when she is fussing over us.

My mother has smothered me with total complete care. She doesn’t even let me think for myself. Before I even knew I needed something it was there.

My sons have worn me down to the floor. They are unstoppable storms wrecking my home. They need me to feed them, hold them and comfort them, stay firm when they go off the road.

They do need me as water but really what good am I if I entirely lose myself. Being poured out and out I fear my sensibilities have dullened.My other passions have a crust formed on them. In this daily chaos of which I am not complaining, a part of my core has taken off hibernating.

I am very blessed with my two precious storms but at times I feel unreal...unconnected...to myself...

I need to prod myself with new experiences. I have to be the person I am along with the water my children need.

School days

Not my school days//my sons..I have to wake up early ..tip toe into the kitchen,,,quickly clean my baby's bottle and prepare his Pediasure drink and sneak it into his mouth before his little eyes open with a naughty gleam...if he drinks it he is gonna sleep for some more time , very important to me then I can pack breakfast and lunch for school in peace,,,

Garland of Love made with tears

"ഒരു രാഗ മാല കോര്‍ത്തു സഖീ ബാഷ്പ ധാര  ആയി

മനസ്സിന്‍ ശുബാഗ്നീ സാക്ഷി ആയി

നിന്‍ മാറില്‍ ചാര്‍ത്തുവാന്‍ "

ഈ വരികള്‍ എങ്ങേനയോ മനസ്സില്‍ ഒരു വിങ്ങല്‍ തൊട്ടുണര്‍ത്തുന്നു.
പവിത്രമായ ഏതോ ഒരു വികാരം മനുഷ്യ മനസ്സുകളില്‍ ഇപ്പോഴും ശക്തമയി അതിവസിക്കുവാന്‍ സാധ്യമാണ് എന്ന് ഒരു സങ്കല്‍പം.

ജീവിക്കുവാന്‍ തിരിക്കിട്ടു പായുന്ന ദിവസങ്ങള്‍ നമുക്ക് നഷ്ടപെടുത്തുന്ന ചില അനുഭവങ്ങള്‍  ‍. എതിനെ കുറിച്ചെങ്കിലും മനസ്സില്‍ ഒരു തീഖ്ഷനത ഉണ്ടാവുക .

എന്തിയെങ്കിലും പ്രണയിക്കുക.കട്ടിനമായി ...

എന്റെ കര്‍ത്താവേ ഇത് കഷ്ടം തന്നേ ൦ shapil ഉള്ള ഇട്ട എവിടേ നിന്ന്  വരും ? കതിനംയി എന്ന് ടൈപ്പ് ചെയ്യുവാന്‍ തുടങ്ങിയിട്ട് മണിക്കൂര്‍ ൨ ആയി ...ബാകി എല്ലാ ഡാ ത ഡി ട്ട് ധ ടി ത ത്ത് ത്ത് വന്നു ..തട്ട് ട്ട് തട്ട് ട്ട് ട്ട് ദ്ദ് ട്ട്

What’s for dinner?

Cooking isn’t exactly my passion but eating most certainly is. For a long time I enjoyed awesome food without sweating it out in the kitchen. My mom dished out the best delicacies while growing up. The TKM LH provided much excitement in food during college...I loved the feast days...I really enjoyed the nei chor and the biriyaani etc...

Mostly the delight was greater since I really could indulge in all those without trying to analyze if anything was wrong with it, any measure of the ingredients- spices - salt- lesser or more. I was just savoring it and I did realize any gross disproportion of the ingredients only if it majorly assaulted my taste buds.

Now I find myself in the other shoes. I am the cook and I have very extreme customers to cater for. My children and husband- all male. Not trying to sound like men are fussier about food but this bunch definitely is.

They just right about reject anything they find unattractive. NO graceful words about it either.

My littlest one, who can’t yet express himself in any adjectives, just pushes my hand away and sometimes kicks the bowl from which I am feeding him on the spoon.

My elder one just says- not tasty...he has started giving me hints on what could be done to improve my failed dish...`My husband - the boss  ...just quizzes me  about the flame  - he blames it all on a full flame of the stove..Always leave it on the low flame- that is his quick fix for every miserable plate.

It was amongst such low confidence levels that I found myself one weekend with few guest coming over for dinner. The first major dinner for me to manage all alone. I had a cook all these years -a   baby sitter +cook in one. She loved cooking and would always bring out awesome food- all kinds of food. Guests for dinner were no trouble at all.

Now me the chosen one - I expected that wanting to turn into a full time mom had such hidden risks involved but my knees did buckle at this first encounter.

I decided that I would try out butter chicken and pepper chicken and roughly outline the action plan in my head. So many restaurants just across the road. If it didn’t work out I could always  run out and be in time with perfect curries.

 would like to think that as a result of my mothers prayers both my butter chicken and pepper chicken turned out pretty yummy. My guests were hogging on it and so were the male population in my family which could eat meat yet.

So here I am basking the glory of the finger licking butter chicken and pepper chicken.

Can’t say that I am all fired up and rearing to cook. I still am lost. What’s for dinner is still a thorn in my flesh.

As for me chocos or noodles or sub will work just fine any time of the day.

I wandered lonely as a cloud...that floats on high hills and vales..

I want to take some time off..thinking about nothing..planning about no activity..just float around on

a cloud..fill my mind with the blueness of the sky...the softness...the stillness.
Although I hate flying on an aircraft I love the sky.Love to stare up to it.The clouds form amazing

shapes at times.Today morning I could see a giant hat in the sky and as I watched it merged to

another dark cloud and became a giant amoeba.