What’s the veil that clouds

It’s musty and old like something that molds

It’s a hard shell that never unfolds

It’s void and blackness it holds

It reaches out, it plucks you from the foggy grey and rests you in its folds

It’s in this pit of nothingness, that peace upholds

It’s powerful reign of calm, that finally envelops you 

And like a tyrant, forces you, to be with you!


The albatross

I was a bud, battling against the storm

I longed to be caressed by dawn

I  longed to be enchanted

I  unfurled my tender petals and was enamoured by your sheen

You welcomed my blossom and embraced my naivete

You brought meaning to my existence, you brought life

You were the pole star, I anchored on you to spread my fragrance

As time and storm gained wistful wings,

your sheen burned and scorched me

The blossom withered against your rage and might

In vain I try to loose the anchor

Only to see that it hangs heavy

Heavy around my neck like the albatross that I’d hunted and

Weighs me down  in the name of culture, womanhood and society.


The plunge


Silence that stretched, darkness that spread

Both behold an expanse, a universe

I embraced the silence

The world of peace, of calm

The unspoken, unstirred

The unheard, unmarred

The still, unjarred

The unchartered terrain of your rage and reviles

The deafening tranquil engulfed the garish gores

The inarticulate clamour of stillness, blacked out the Babel

I plunged into the abyss of darkness

The unseen, the unbelieving

The bottomless, the unceasing

The unfeigned obscure

The unremitting breadth of life

The unlit, swallowed the sparks of your self spirited fury

The colossal lacuna that you parented

Awaits like a behemoth

To drift me away to the promised land

Which is unguided by the misleading ray of hope.

Tiger hills

Inseparable they had been as children. Close as two seeds in a cardamom pod,…..he was the one she unfailingly depended upon,to remove the thorns from her soles,to set the world right again……

Another Indian author? I asked my friend. I have been reading only them lately.(I’m scared that my love for Ken Follett will diminish). Reva said OK the next time it’ll be a different one.

As I read, I took flight with the flock of herons to herald a new beginning. Devi , Devanna. Inseparable they are from my heart now. A tale of love and hateful love! A heart that’s tucked away into an abyss of guilt. Emotions so fierce and undying, yet murdered like the tiger by the tiger killer. ‘Nari Malai’the hills that roar with all that’s lying in its belly. But finally perfumes the wind like the jungle orchid.

Tiger hills does complete justice to the spoken and unspoken emotions in the depths of darkness, replete with similes that bring Coorg alive. A book that’ll remain dear to me. Devi leads my way forward to heal the lips of my wounds,slowly together.


The eyes fixed their steely gaze
On the only naked face
In a room that was filled with gloom
With faces that were dressed to spread doom
The eyes pinned their look
On the face, till it hid in a nook
Then , the vile mind twirled and tossed the dice
Wasn’t it all a game of half truths and white lies?
A game of mere name and fame
The baffled face sought for the same
The same, warm smile the eyes once held
Before the triumph of having felled
the bare face.
The only stripped face was now mortified
But it smiled back, feeling fortified
Of having been ripped of emotion
Now, all that prevailed was commotion.

The secret

How’s my dress? Said she
It looks lovely and bright. Said I
He’s tailored it to suit you just right
To the shop again you take me.
This a little secret between you and me

The eyes searched me as I went in
There’s new trash said I, in my bin
A secret was bequeathed, a pact made
That I carry this junk till I’m laid
By who? Cried the eyes
By the one who called herself ‘ your ‘ friend till now.

‘Shopping’ was a secret
Dear friend said I
No more baggages will be bought
None will be stored
A free bird am I whose story’s untold
A secret drifts away as doors unfold

A finger pointed has three unfolded
She forgets that doors have keys and holes too
A victim you are, three fingers her bar
A captive she is, of her mind that’s marred
I let the secret out of the door that’s ajar
Lets be free and fly to a land afar.


Triveni stared at the soft board, like she usually did. The staff room was resounding with laughter as her colleagues discussed about each others’ weird habits in a lighter vein. She continued staring at the board and wanted to disappear inside it. She knew that so much laughter around her was harmful. They were mocking at her, she could feel it. It was time for her to vanish and come  back empowered the next instant. A repartee to the party that would put this party to a gloomy end.

She was tall, with a creamy complexion, the hair stuck to her scalp and looked well oiled. She always plaited it. A bindi always clung to her forehead. A six yards saree could not quite complete the roundness of her broad frame. Her worn out and faded bra was an old inquisitive hag that always peeped out of the blouse. It was metaphorical of Triveni’s own character. She masked her curiosity behind a flimsy cloak of false divinity. She hid herself in slokas of the Hindu Gods. But right then in the midst of happy people, she felt out of place. Her soft board told her to be creative enough with the repartee. Too much happiness did not suit her. She thrived on sympathy.

‘Sympathy’ yes this would be it again. Play on these cords with the boss and the brownie points start rolling in. She looked at her side, her eyes narrowed and gave her a good view of her colleagues Ritu and Sneha.

Ritu had her hair cut upto the shoulders. It fell softly with light curls giving her rounded face a youthful, joyful look. Triveni loathed Ritu’s existence. She reminded her of everything that she had longed for. Smartness, elegance, friendly attitude! She shifted her gaze at Sneha. She was slim, tall and graceful. Her quick wit tickled everyone’s funny bone. The male colleagues too joined in merrily.

She ran down her check list of making Ritu appear small and unimportant. In the past eight years that they had worked together she  had used every trick in the bag. The memory flooded her and pumped her adrenaline.

She recalled the day when her chat show was telecast on TV in the local channel. She remembered the huge effort she had put, to keep the opportunity clandestine. The letter was still with her! The invitation was official. Yet, she was careful in concealing it. Ritu had questioned her about leaving late for home. But she had managed it well. The day arrived, she wanted to see Ritu’s face. She’d imagined the despair on it and had rejoiced. But Ritu had walked down the corridor coolly and congratulated her. Triveni had never felt so dejected! The telecast did not give her the pleasure that she longed for! Everyone always became friends with Ritu. But this time she had chosen her words well! The staff room became sober as Ritu , Sneha and a few more of them left for their classes.

The male colleagues remained seated. She checked her tone, tuned it to sound doleful and said”Mr. Hari, you seem to befriend only well – dressed women.”

Hari was taken aback by the brusqueness of this remark. He smiled and retorted “Ms. Triveni why don’t you too dress up well? I don’t see the point in not doing so.”

Triveni was thrown off guard. This melodramatic dialogue of hers had won her the expected sympathy many times. She was successful in depicting Ritu as arrogant and she’d dropped hints to portray Ritu as a bossy snob. She decided to try her luck some other time. Sitting on her chair, she stared at the soft board. Again her eyes looked up and centre, bringing back the days when she used to be the Principal’s assistant.

Twenty year old Triveni, clad in a faded salwar kameez wiped a tear. The Principal of the school watched her from a distance, she wanted her to. Later she was summoned to the cabin for questioning. Her eyes and lips concocted a story of utter desperation. The story highlighted her marital life which was filled with misery.

“My husband is infirm, hence cannot sustain a job for long.” She said. “The burden of his parents is thrust on my frail shoulders,”  She continued “My salary is hand to mouth, my colleagues snigger at my pathetic sight,” seizing this opportunity firmly she lamented further. “I am the most diligent worker. I go hungry for long hours and work . Many times, I complete my colleagues’ share of work too.”

The lady Principal was overcome with sympathy. There was another school which was supposed to commence from the next academic year. If she played her cards right, she knew she’d land herself in a new job.

“There’s another school being built nearby, I have contacts there. A new job, a new designation as a teacher with a better pay packet will be yours. Don’t worry!” She knew that this would head in exactly the same direction as planned. So, here she was!

In these years, she had eked out a comfortable life style for herself. But was careful to dress in the sloppy manner that was so her! The biggest achievement was buying an apartment. her confidence too had manifested into a hugely blown chauvinism. The new school, as she remembered was quite accommodating of her in-capacities. Her influential entry had secured her position. Her lacuna in talent, subject knowledge and the incapacity to be a team worker had all gone unnoticed. Her uncanny ability to find scapegoats for covering up her lacuna had always excelled. Until,the school expanded and brought in newer and younger employees. If at all there was some threat to her job, it was from Ritu and the others. With the entry of Ritu in her department, Triveni’s existence had paled. She had a general appeal that fused with the others. However, Triveni was repulsed.

“Hey! Are you okay?” Asked Sneha who pulled the chair beside her. “You seem lost in profound thoughts!” Said Sneha in a jovial tone. Triveni bolted back to reality. “Why? Don’t I have the right to think?” She retorted in a loud, icy tone.

Her garrulous nature took charge. She stormed out of the place. Sneha shrugged off her feeling of contempt and returned to her place.

Triveni hovered near the Principal’s  cabin. This was where she loved to be most of the times. It was very important to look busy in front of the boss! She created an opportunity to enter the cabin and wiped her eyes with the pallu of her saree. With moist eyes she said “My colleagues are the most insensitive lot, I haven’t had a morsel to eat since morning, I was busy with a lot of exclusive work. They find pleasure in mocking me. It’s impossible to be in peace there.”

She finished her stretched monologue  without gulping even one breath of air. The Principal was flabbergasted! He knew she was a complaint box, a pack of lies personified but was helpless. There was no rule in the book which stated that liars, manipulators,trouble creators should be shown the gates.  He blocked her  out of  his mind and told her that he would look into the matter.

She emerged out of the cabin and made sure that she wasn’t seen. She was aware of the reputation that she held. The reputation of marring others’ reputation, the reputation of presenting herself as an extraordinarily talented personality, the reputation of contradicting what she ardently read in the hymns of the Hindu Gods. The sweet smell of  corn wafted through the air. This aroused her buds which salivated profusely.

The stairs led down to the canteen. She took them one at a time.

A five year old Triveni appeared before her. The steps led down her memory lane. Her cousin Priya skipped alongwith her. “We’ll race grandpa, the winner should get a chocolate.” Said Priya. Grandpa adored his granddaughters. They ran gaily , like two daisies prancing in the wind. Priya won the race. She was turning around to shout out to grandpa, when Triveni fell beside her, ripped off her own skirt and started crying. Priya stood rooted to the spot. Grandpa approached them and carried little Triveni,  wiped her tears and consoled her. The chocolate made its way from his hands to Triveni’s bawling mouth. Priya’s victory was buried in the dust. Triveni handed out a piece of the chocolate to her cousin. Victory was hers! Chocolate was hers! Mm…. it tasted so good!

she descended another step, a twelve year old school girl passed by. Triveni envisioned herself in her uniform so many years ago, when she twelve and in the seventh grade. The final exams were fast approaching, she cast a look at her brother who was working out sheet after sheet of algebra. He was a hardworking boy. Mama adored him. “Sharan will make the family proud.” Mama always said. He was in the ninth grade. Triveni paced around from the room to the hall listlessly. Hardwork was for donkeys! She thought this over and smiled. Days went by, the exams were over . One day Kushali, her brother’s friend ran towards her. She wore a bright smile across her face. “Hey Triveni, your brother’s topped the class this time too. He’s broken the record in the quiz too. You’re a lucky girl to have a bro like him.” “The PTM  is three days away, he plans to surprise your parents. So, don’t spill the beans.” Three days, thought Triveni.

Brother and sister reached home. Mom served lunch. “My stomach’s aching, I can’t eat now.” Said Triveni and pushed the plate away. Later she sneaked into her parents’ room to sleep. She also sneaked into papa’s wallet and helped herself to some money. In the evening, she told her mom that she needed to meet her friends and helped herself to a bakery. For three days she didn’t touch a morsel at home. Mom grew worried. She told Papa about their daughter’s strange intermittent stomachache. Sharan declared that the PTM was the next day and that it was compulsory. The next morning, Triveni wouldn’t leave the bed. The house was frantic with worry. No one was interested to visit the school. Sharan went all alone. The parents took her to a doctor, who was baffled by the nature of the ache. Various tests were recommended and performed. By evening she was discharged and was told to be kept under observation.

Sharan displayed his marks sheet and trophy proudly,but Papa was only disheartened at Sharan’s lack of sympathy and insensitive attitude! The stomachache continued for two more days and finally vanished alongwith Sharan’s happiness and glory. No one bothered about her poor scores, they were thankful that their daughter was fine. After that all that mattered was her good health.

She neared the door of the canteen now. She saw that various fruits were on display. Bright red apples, yellow sweet limes, pomegranates and many more. Food had always been her weakness. She placed an order for apple milkshake. The cook put the fruits in a big jar and placed it on the electric mixer. It made a loud swishing noise. This loud noise took her back to the noise, a soft humming one of the monitor that displayed the pressure of blood and heart beat. Her father had met with an accident. He was crossing the road when a bus had hit him. Locals had admitted him to a hospital. Triveni was seventeen. It was already a week since the mishap. Doctors gave no hope of Papa moving out of bed. He had gone completely numb.

Only the eyes moved and cried every now and then. Relatives poured in, bringing with them delicious looking fruits and bakery items. Triveni couldn’t resist them. But Mama maintained her stoic hunger. Sharan was even more exasperating as he tried to feed Papa and Mama the goodies. She couldn’t fathom the idea behind feeding people who didn’t deserve to be fed. Papa couldn’t eat anyways and Mama wouldn’t eat. No one noticed the juices inside the fruits except her. They were adamant on shedding futile tears for a juiceless body that was her father’s. She also realized that the relatives consoled and showed concern for the bereaved wife. The only way in which she could contribute to this situation was to help herself to the goodies and wail!

The relatives continued to pour in but their attention was shifted to her. Fruits  were brought in especially for Triveni. For Triveni lamented the most! That was the best summer ever. This thread of memory brought a triumphant smile on her lips. She relished a plate of corn manchurian alongwith the milkshake.

The place was filled with young faces, few of her colleagues stood with filled plates at corners. Each face was lit up with happiness. Smiles and hugs greeted each other. She hated so much laughter! Triveni’s smile too crawled up her lips. It sneaked up to her eyes and they glistened. After all, if and when she wished to, she could strip these faces off , the ornament that they so proudly displayed. She was happier than happiness herself! She derived mirth from misery.

Note :-
I was asked why I created such a negative character. I’d say “Why not?” This was created for the sake of a course that I am doing. My discussion with a friend inspired me to create a character which is not stereotypical. Enjoy the piece of fiction as a piece of fiction.

Can you? Yes you can!

I have often wondered why some people are super achievers and some of us get sucked up in the vortex of stress , tensions, anxiety and many such impediments.

My NLP sessions with Dr.chaya Nair, (paediatrician, adolescent counsellor ) have helped me discover my potential, face my fears and reinvent myself. It is a well known fact in the present times to seek for happiness within oneself.  To seek help from oneself and believe in oneself. But what many of us lack is the knowledge to do this.

We need a map to charter the unknown domain. We also need a guide to steer us ahead. Neuro linguistic programming provides us with the right knowledge to do so. I am lucky as we had the right guide to  help us on this journey.

So, what are the areas that NLP helped me with?
To get a positive Outlook of myself, in the correct sense
To discover my submodalities and use them aptly
Rapport building
Reframing the mind
Acceptance of others
Goal setting and it’s importance
Face my fears, negatives and how to deal with them
To channelise my potential towards a healthy objective.

The sessions were replete with real life examples and healthy exchange of thoughts amongst our peers and the mentor.

The crux of NLP sessions is that it re programmes us at the subconscious level hence the learning remains for a lifetime.

Finally, NLP steers us towards a  better personal, professional and a more meaningful life.
image NLP team

My heart’ll hold on!!

Get up!! It’s already 7.30. I dug deep inside the pillow and pulled my blanket further, to cover my face. My husband’s voice sounded like a thunderclap that broke a serene morning. Next, my son came rubbing his eyes and finally both of them forced me out of my comfortable couch. “It’s a Sunday morning for God’s sake!” I screamed. After letting out a bagful of tantrums to run all over the house, I got ready. I knew that my day was ruined!

we drove for a while and then entered the gates of Cubbon Park. I was still sulking. My eyes wandered aimlessly and brightened at the various hues of green and brown all around. The trees opened their arms, inviting everyone to relax in the lap of nature. Mother nature was ready with a soothing balm for anyone who was wounded. The chaotic traffic, the bickering of drudgery, the tensions of meeting deadlines,the faces that mortify, all faded away into oblivion. These gates opened a new reality – A reality which somehow is mistaken for surrealism.

I was lost in the depth of my mother’s lap. My eyes travelled, taking in the pleasantness, when I saw an old lady and a child on their cycles. The child was on a tricycle. The happiness was writ large on their faces. Many others too were pedal pushing towards unknown quarters, but they seemed highly content in their journey.

The chirping of birds had replaced the sounds we were accustomed to . There was a symphony in this cacophony. They were adding specks of bright red, neon green, sapphire blue and gold to the green background. We moved on, I stopped to smarten my ears. They tried to tune in to ‘Akasha ve beelali mele…. nanendu ninnavanu…’ an old romantic Kannada song. The lyrics flowed like new streams from the far recesses of memory. The players wore smart uniforms,I felt like a queen being welcomed to her land! After they finished, little kids and many others ran to thank them. For bringing a dear tune to their ears. I was transfixed in elation. Many dance performances followed, the dancers looked like gandarva kanyas bedecked with ornaments and blissful smiles. We pulled ourselves away to discover the other surprises we were sure were in store.

Dogs ran at our heels, they wagged friendly tails and continued their doggy tricks. Under every tree we found fitness enthusiasts or a poet or a practicing acrobatic team or people with canvas and pallet trying to etch all the myriad hues into eternity. By now we were quite hungry. The tantalizing smell of corn filled with masala was wreaking havoc inside my stomach. We finished our breakfast of corn and a bowlful of fresh cut fruits. Our thirst was quenched by fresh fruit juices. As I sipped on, a little pomegranate tree caught my attention. The bonsai trees which were on display nearby had boards which gave us details about them. It was enriching to learn about the bonsai art.

Then, we leisurely sauntered into the tennis club nearby. The players were enjoying a hearty game. The special players on wheelchairs not only held my attention,but also tossed innumerable reasons at me to be happy and grateful. After watching them for a while  we decided to leave.

I realized that we hadn’t spoken at all. Yet, in that unspoken language there were things that were heard and felt. These fragments formed an indelible mark in my minds’eye. I was homesick for a place, I was not sure it even existed. This is the place where my heart is full, my body loved and my soul understood.