Darth Vader

Darth Vader is addictive. I distinctively remember how I first met him. Angry Birds Star Wars game on the I-Pad. He suddenly appeared on my son's favourite T-Shirt also. Until then I had no clue what all those pictures of robots were. Then one day my son had to speak a few words about his favourite superhero and he chose Lord Vader. To help his frame those words, I had to do massive research on Darth Vader and discovered that he wasn't really a hero! But my son was so in love with Darth Vader and I suspected the teachers wouldn't really go into specifics. So I drafted some lines on his qualities and his life support suit and how he was brave and the usual laurels. It drew me in nevertheless.

The only solution was to now binge on all the Star Wars Trilogy

movies. Due to some divine intervention, all those movies were being shown on some channel. The catch was the unearthly hour at which it was being televised. Another divine intervention. Lord of the house was away on business. I packed kids off early to sleep. Caught a few hours of sleep. Then enjoyed my movie. I was entirely hooked. I also watched them on YouTube during the day.

Darth Vader was indeed an enigma. The bad guy you absolutely loved. His evil had the most charismatic attitude to it. The music accompanying his entry was perfectly imperial. His peculiar breathing noise. The life support suit. His unmatched telekinetic powers. He could strangle you over the video, over Skype! And yet his emotional side. His realization that he is not the Jedi he is meant to be and wants more. His fear of losing his love. His trauma over the death of his mother.

Star Wars does indeed draw you into the inter amazingly galactic picturesque universe. I and my son tried to talk in the Yoda style for a while. Go, you must. Dinner, you should eat. Milk, I don't like. Sleep, I want to. Write, a story I must.

Darth Vader is remembered every day. Playing with light Saber or I-Pad. He is part of our lives.

Here is a video I found on YouTube Anakin's transformation to Darth Vader.

Dried up words

There are some words that I have lost

Some stories faded

Music just stopped

What I had wanted to say

I cannot remember

All that is filling my thoughts

Are all bitter darts of accusations

I am different

I have my own wit

You can't trample me down

Just because you do not agree

What's my crime?

That I think or that I aspire ?

Don't stifle my voice

Don't push me into the corner of silence

I grow numb, mute

What is left, is not me

It's who you created

It may be good for you

As you grow stronger

All these things you shower on me?

Does not bring me back to life

These are things you want

I only want my voice, my dreams


National Poem Writing Month 

Cold

It's summer here. The sun is unbearable. The brightness and the heat. Mornings are pleasant. Cool breeze too. But by 9.30 the sun begins to glare with vengeance. I imagine him standing there and just fuming. At all the destruction the puny humans wreak upon his favorite child Earth.

All the heat slowly vaporizing me and my home. I am sure of it. All those things I am unable to find have vaporized. Gone up in smoke. Poof! But all this heat has not thawed the hearts so icy cold.

I see them everywhere. Cold people. I wonder what drives them on. I do not see joy of life in their eyes. I do not feel warmth of love when I sit with them. Their words do not glow my heart with hope. They go full throttle right head. With such fierceness they strive for every good thing they can accumulate. They don't waste any time. Always on the move. Always getting ahead. Sometimes their words wound. Their cold gestures make me cringe. Why do I let them have that much power over me? I could never fathom. Do I want them to like me or be nice to me? Do I consider them superior and powerful ?

You can see me shaking myself like a wet dog at times. When I encounter a cold one I do that to purge the inferiority sinking into me. It sort of gets me out the hypnotic trance. I go into a mode of regret for the job I willingly quit. I start doubting if wrestling with my two boys the whole day is the dream scenario I had in mind. They throw bricks on you and use you as stepping stones to hoist them to greater conquests. The realization of that drops my temperature. It turns me cold to the beauty of the simple haphazard unplanned adventure. I enjoy the warmth I have inside me. The wonder and magic of life is my fuel. Not the mad desire to accumulate expensive merchandise and acquaintances. May the cold never seep in.  

Climb Every Mountain

Does the place where you live really affect the kind of life that you lead ? If you mean the location, the city or the village, then it is obviously true. It does affect your quality of life, in terms of the facilities and infrastructure available to you. Also every city or village has its own unique energy that gets infused into the blood of those living there. Growing up in a very academic place like Thiruvananthapuram (phew..it was easier to type Trivandrum but wary of the big brother) was surprisingly fun. I had my own shares of adventures, secret picnics, badminton tourneys, hazardous rock climbing etc. But after engineering where I didn't qualify to even appear for the very few campus interviews, I knew I had to leave for another city where opportunities existed for not so studious yet obviously bright students like me.

Convincing my parents was the hard task. They were very adamant that I keep trying for some little job somewhere in strike infested, communist thriving capital of Kerala. Their friends had somehow convinced them that it's better off getting me married and living somewhere closer to them. It was a task which had no good handling handbook. I reasoned with them. My friend's elder sister had gone to Bangalore and found a good job. My friend was planning to join her and invited me along. We could tackle the new place together. My friend grew tired waiting for me and went on ahead. I started kicking up hell at home. For some reason, my parents tend to not understand my reasoning until I scream and yell and make life a little miserable for them. My neighbours and other uncles and aunts seem to rule their hearts and brains. It was very tough battling out for a chance to go and live in a city like Bangalore. But they laid down weapons finally. And I landed in the garden city.

Bangalore was full of a positive energy back then. Lots of young people. Studying or working. I loved there. I stayed in a hostel with my friend and made new friends. I joined up for a programming class and spent a lot of time hunting jobs and giving job interviews. It was a total learning experience. I had to take bus to entirely unknown areas and find locations all on my own. I survived all that even though my parents worried like hell. My new made friends and I had great adventures together. Exploring the city. We used to sieve through the different markets for fashionable dresses, shoes and bags. It was a life changing experience for me. Meeting so many people from different parts of the country. Sharing ideas. Listening to different concepts of success.It increased my self confidence and wisdom in general.

I must admit I wasn't successful on the job front but I am going to blame the economic slowdown and the bursting of the dot.com bubble. Not me. I was hugely talented and extremely intelligent. In the end I had to settle for a job at my home town and move back in with my family. But I had already learnt to be unafraid of change or failure. You can only fail if you do not take a chance with yourself.

When we have a dream every step we take towards it will only make us stronger. My favorite song from the movie The Sound of Music has the most gorgeously inspiring verses. Goes like this.....

Climb every mountain,

Search high and low,

Follow every byway,

Every path you know.

Climb every mountain,

Ford every stream,

Follow every rainbow,

'Till you find your dream.

To gain insight on how you can start your life anew visit  https://housing.com/.

Watch the video below to see how housing dreams are looking up.

Ray of Light

Most of my days are spent rushing into all sorts of chores and pushing my kids through all their activities. Right from brushing in the morning...all the way to sleep me. It's a task for a parent to actually sit down and admire the children and their sweet innocence in the midst of all the ferrying and rushing. I am beginning to see that as a big mistake. While we do have to ensure that children eat well, learn their lessons and behave with good manners, we also need to listen to their version of events. It may often seem catastrophic to the adult eyes and yet it may have been an earnest sincere effort at something from the child.

It was a particularly trying day for me. I had been going back and forth couple of times. Some chores I was hoping to get done didn't happen. Plans crashed and burned. And there as I walked in, all the magma of the day's frustrations were ready to blow out. The floor was flooded with Lego blocks, sprinkled with snacks and the children were sprawled in front of the telly. My elder one showed me his test results and all I could see were the lost marks. He did pretty well but for a Mom , its never enough. You know your child can do better. But does he need to be so perfect? Isn't that a burden I force on him? I said a few harsh words and yelled at the mess the house was in. I said stuff like just sit in front of cartoon network and eat junk and be happy. I stormed off and jumped into the bed. After a while I got alarmed that there wasn't any noise.

I ran to the living room which had magically transformed !! The Lego s were tucked away and my elder son was sweeping the floor. My younger one was carrying all the footwear deserted at the door to the shoe rack (mine included).My elder one spoke up “Sorry Momma. Please don't be angry. When you are angry we feel very sad. I feel all alone. Without you there is no fun. I will study harder. I will not make any spelling mistakes. I will make sure we both eat food properly.”

His extremely heart rending apology speech felt like a punch in the stomach. It wasn't his responsibility yet he shouldered it. His duty is to be a child. To make a mess and mistakes. That was his right.

Yet it filled me with a light. He did care for my happiness. He didn't hold it against me that I ranted about losing a single mark. He accepted my high expectations.

I hugged him tight. He was a treasure more important than anything. What your child becomes, is your future but who your child is, will always be your utmost happiness. That is what makes your home a little piece of heaven. A safe zone for everyone to do stupid mistakes and learn from them and grow stronger. The world pushes you into a corner, your home is where you recover. 

When children care about happiness other than their own, the world has hope of transformation into a beautiful flower garden. We have to admire what we have and innovate and inspire, rather than the catch up with a maddening zombie crowd.

When I sense a meltdown moment inching towards me, I fish out this ray of light. My children care for my happiness. And I must value their happiness more that any notion of success the world may be blinded in. This is my hope, that I can start with my home to fill the world with a little bit of optimism and love.

Visit https://housing.com/lookup to read more on the mantra of bringing more positivism to the world.

Forsaken

There is a new prompt at Word Castle about the roads untraveled.

A poem with upper limit of 50 words about a secret regret. Here is my take on it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prologue

~~~~~~~

My one regret as I look back is when I allowed my parents to throw out a cat and her kittens from our home.

The mother cat had come in to our home as a stray kitten. She was very cute as all kittens are. We developed a bond instantly. We could understand each other. I was around 10 years old. She was my best friend. Then her own kittens arrived. My parents panicked. Pictured an outbreak of kittens. Kittens pouring out of every nook and corner and every wardrobe and cupboard. They elaborately discussed with me the various horrors of cats over running your home. I finally caved in in a weak moment and then they were just dropped off somewhere near a fish market where they would always find food.

I cried every evening after school for the longest time. The tiny fur balls of pure cuteness. I felt guilty as hell. I was haunted by their faces. I had let them down. I never had a pet cat again even though I nursed an injured kitten back to health and fed some strays.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forsaken

You taught me to nurture ,

Watched me as I painted

Colours that made no sense to anyone

But love was the colour of your eyes.

I wasn't strong, thought they knew better

I remember your soft paws on my face.

Love can never destroy,

But can love forgive desertion ?

Attitude Cleansing

Every civilized human should have a basic sense of hygiene. Personal hygiene is very important for good health and so is a hygienic approach to the people around you as well as the place where you live and work. The most common disgusting habit of the Indian is spitting. I see people spitting everywhere as they please. I also know of an elderly person who did not approve of the flat system because he wasn't able to spit through the window whenever he wanted. That is the most pathetic need of a person. To be able to comfortably spit. I have often noticed the dark red stains of chewed pan on the windows of the lobby our building. Feel free to spit, every window seems to say. So does every road. Feel free to urinate, says every corner to the Indian man.

It shows of a basic disrespect to the society in which we live. How would this spit obsessed Indian feel if someone came inside his house and spat right in his living room?

Why does he feel differently about every other place?

Why does he have the attitude that he can go and dirty up every other place outside of his own home?

The moral police are very busy these days. It doesn't seem to bother them that many women and girls are using open fields and railway tracks instead of a walled clean toilet. It sure seems fine by them to see hundreds of children in broad day light sitting along the roads of Mumbai and just piling up human waste. As long as no one kisses or hugs anyone. As long as no one mentions Valentines day. The grand old Indian culture is all safe guarded.

A couple of leaders sweeping some dried grass and crumpled paper doesn't lead to a cleaner India. It needs to begin from the numb mind of that Indian who only bothers about his living room being clean. It is all about patriotism. Not to just show off to the so called developed countries. We need to love our land. And our fellow Indian brothers and sisters. To care about not causing any harm or any discomfort.

So do you have it in you to speak up ? Can you show the not so patriotic Indian his grave mistake of spitting or throwing stuff on the road? Who will bell the cat ?

When will the government install garbage bins at every nook and corner, we do not know. When will the policeman stand at the corner and grab those who dirty the strests, we do not know. But we can start right away. Before you preach to a stranger, you can start at home. Parents, spouse, kids etc It s time for us to do our tiny little bit for our beloved motheland. Time to speak up, without any hesitation or fear. Time to start cleansing out attitude. Not silent or numb any more. Not passive any more. Your nation needs your voice, your actions and not your sighs and shrugs.

Strepsils have launched a digital campaign to encourage Indians to speak their mind, to voice their discomfort or opinion. No more to suppress. Your words should be heard. Even when its embarrassing for those you respect, you need to speak and show them gently but firmly the fault in their attitude. 

An exclusive online platform at www.abmontubolega.com discusses such scenarios.

You can participate and contribute more to this movement on Facebook and Twitter

Get going, get your voice loud and clear with #AbMontuBolega 

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Touch My Heart

Mira sipped her tea slowly and drank in the romance playing on the telly. She loved this new Hindi soap. There was so much chemistry between the two. The kids were packed off to school and the husband was out on the usual morning walk. This was her tiny window of peace and solitude. She generally watched some comedy series and laughed along but these days she had got herself hooked on to a romantic story.

Suddenly she heard the door bell. How did Ayush return so quickly ? She wondered and quickly turned off the telly. She ran and opened the door.

Ayush appeared tired. “I stopped early.”

Mira looked at him carefully. The stress on him was showing under his eyes. He didn't sleep properly, she realized.

Ayush headed for the shower. He called out “Get the breakfast ready..I want to go early to office”

Mira headed promptly to the kitchen. She went about the mechanical motions of preparing the dosa.

She wished Ayush would share his troubles with her. He was clearly worried.

All they talked about to each other were about the kids. Which classes, hobbies or sports to take up and which competitions to sign up etc.

Mira laid out the breakfast on the table and waited.

Ayush sat down in a hurry. As Mira served Dosa and chutney on his plate she longed to ask him about the apparent anxiety gnawing on him. The phone rang as it always did when Ayush ever tried to do anything else but work. Mira bit her lip.

Ayush ran to his room, talking on the phone and opened up his laptop.

The breakfast was soon forgotten.

Mira closed her eyes briefly and then she realized that Ayush had stopped talking on the phone but he was working. She could hear the key press sounds in a silence filled home.

Mira picked up Ayush's plate and walked over to his room.

He shrugged at her ”I know its getting cold but I have to do something very important...”

Mira smiled and nodded. She tried to push away the awkwardness she felt and slowly hesitantly offered Ayush a piece of Dosa. He suddenly looked up at her. She only fed the kids this way anymore. He smiled and opened his mouth.

“Turning me also into your child ?”, he asked.

“If you are behaving like one, what else to do”, she replied as she wiped the corner of his mouth with her fingers.

Ayush put his hand on her fingers and looked into her eyes.

“I am glad you are here for me.”

He closed his eyes and realised how soft her hands were. He opened his eyes and looked at the girl he fell in love with. Her touch would always calm him and assure him that he wasn't alone. She was there for him. Taking care of him. He was suddenly happy that she was right there.

He pulled her gently towards him. “Let 's finish the hot dosas first”, she laughed as she placed one more piece into his mouth.  

It's amazing how you
Can speak right to my heart.
Without saying a word
You can light up the dark.
The smile on your face
Lets me know that you need me.
There's a truth in your eyes
Saying you'll never leave me.
The touch of your hand says you'll catch me wherever I fall.
You say it best when you say nothing at all.

From

When You Say Nothing At All

by  Ronan Keating

A gentle ‘touch’ can go a long way in rekindling the lost spark and chemistry between couples.

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Tweet your ideas about the touches that melt your heart with #BringBackTheTouch

Boys can't keep still

When my intercom rings in the afternoon on a holiday I get worried. Most times it has been the neighbours who live immediately below us. They are hard working people and want to rest their tender muscles on holidays by sleeping off in the noon.

I wish I could too but holidays mean double the work and no sleep at all..My two boys would be at home and not in school.

After lunch they get into hyper drive and they run about..jump from sofa to sofa or bed or table or chair to chair ..I am used to all the hell raising din and I can even doze off in the midst of all that but my poor hard working neighbours get the scare of their lives with all the bounding on the roof above their heads

They try to bury their head under all the pillows they can find but finally give up and ring me

“Can you please tell them not to jump around so much ?”

“Can you please tell them not to bounce the ball so much ?”

These very polite requests vex me because I do not want to the annoying neighbour .

So now you get the picture of my home...endless jumping, running and all manners of motions of all kind of substances. My boys just can't keep still...not even in sleep. In sleep they go around in circles like the needles of a clock. Every minute or hour ...they turn an angle. I haven't figured out the turning rate in bed yet.

Well..in a place which is so bustling with activity, when the projectiles are suddenly in bed a cloud of gloom descends.

The sofas lose their vibrancy and elasticity.

The floor looks so tidy and deserted. Where are those elaborate airports constructed in nooks and corners ?The railway tracks look heart broken at the abandonment .Even the neighbours I am sure are tossing about in the bed because of the eerie silence and calm.

Children should be up and bounding about from adventure to the next. Even when we complain of their mischief we relish it. When I see them inactive or in pain I feel the pangs of guilt. What could have I done to avoid them the aches ? Kids need to fall, I agree but they shouldn't be falling sick

Kids need to get dirty but they should fight off the dirt

How can we shield them from all harm ? We can only pray to God almighty but some things we can do. We can nurture good habits in them. We can nudge them towards good health.

Good health comes in these days through good research and planning.

To enjoy a full childhood where they can explore the world in front of them they need the correct blend of nutrients

Anything that will shield them against all those nasty germs out there must be welcome in our homes.

Traditionally prepared herbal mixtures which are quick fixes for the common ailments in children are getting popular with new age moms.

Regular intake of chyawanprash is something I remember about my childhood. I am ready to try the same with my kids. Especially now that they are growing up and taking up all sorts of classes and hobbies. Many products available in the market carry a shadow of doubt. Steroids, hormones....various news reports spread fear of everything edible even.

Dabur is a name I always relate to herbal and ayurvedic concoctions. Right from my childhood I have seen and heard the name. It promises trust and care with results.

I want to see my boys doing everything they fancy. Learning and growing through adventures. Conjuring up new stories and games. And that's what I would like to equip them with my giving them the best nutrition and other aids to increase immunity.

I guess I myself need some chyawanprash to keep up with them.

To dive more into the Dabur world of immunity visit -

 https://www.liveveda.com/daburchyawanprash/.

Anatomy

 Trifextra Week 103

A perfect nude female form glowed from the blackboard. The whole class sat in rapt anticipation of the onslaught.
She scanned poor Tim's face for malice. Putting down the biology text, she said "That wasn't what I meant".