Vaikavi

Scoobs and Shags !

This is the page I call my blog.

I miss Mondays

Two weeks since I finished college and I miss my friends. I miss their physical presence. 🍁
I’ve been feeling very cathartic lately and I finally decided to illustrate this beautiful Terracotta art piece they gifted me as this is one part of their being that I have in my home.❤️
I wish it were just another weekend where I don’t think about or do anything else but art, wake up the next day, iron my clothes, take my vehicle to college, wave at every person I see, try to convince that biometric machine that it’s me, don’t care to sign my register because I know for a fact it has already been signed, place my bag at some corner of the department, drink my hot water and talk to each other about how great or boring the weekend was, about the most random things ever, rant about our Monday blues, share food and just exist together!
But it isn’t , right? 🍁

A scary dream

My brother was telling me stupid serial killer stories yesterday evening. Though I was totally indifferent while he was narrating, I got a super-long super-scary dream of some crazy serial killer who was chasing me everywhere and wanted to kill me . I woke up in the middle of the night really scared , pulled myself together and slept again only to witness part two. The serial killer finally found me , came close to me ; he was right over my head . I woke up here in this very moment.
But, but, I needed a damned closure ! So, I imagined for myself a Chekhov’s gun – I fancied myself having taken a knife from somewhere along the road and stabbed him on his throat when he was about to kill me. The entire night was a chaotic mess and of course I woke up with a migraine .
.
Happened a month ago, but telling anyway.

• 

Her

It’s been a few months since she was forced to leave , the mango tree. I still miss her , her embrace. Whenever I get to the terrace, I try to crouch or curl myself under a tree. But there’s none in such close vicinity like she was.

I skipped climbing up to watch the sea many a time missing her, her munificent support and all the tiny birds she had in her.

The old crow is nowhere to see.

I think about how I hurt her plucking leaves from her, sometimes to cope my anxiety, sometimes mindlessly.

I watch her cut in large pieces, getting more brittle day by data out of dehydration with a very heavy heart.

That blue woodpecker that would say hi every morning pecking her trunk at a crazy high speed, he is also nowhere to see.

I miss her everyday, every time I open my window, every time I take a left turn, every time I see a mango , every time I get to the terrace, every time. I miss her.

(Excerpt from my notebook)

The presumed Nothing

Doing the presumed ‘nothing’ sometimes needs a little positive validation. It should be considered a deed .

It’s comfy. It doesn’t disturb. It’s serene .

Like, opening your most personal notebook and a very pretty, super-light-to-carry pen but not having formulated anything to write.

Walking into libraries, looking at the tones and hues of the books, holding them , weighing them one after another, trying to figure out the lighting scheme of the whole space, being drenched in the whole aroma , giving away a telepathic appreciation to the librarian for his sublime symmetrical arrangements and not actually reading any. All in pin drop silence just like how the rule board says.

Checking in your favorite restaurant, not really hungry just to admire those aesthetic French windows , looking around to check who else appreciates them , ordering a totally unwarranted lime juice, sipping it bit by bit just to escape frequent interaction with the waiter.

Surfing through an OTT site only to find out if your favorite movies are available.

Sea watching, Star watching , Moon watching , Bird watching , All of them 💙

Lightning

An exotic motion picture is happening right in front of me. Living predominantly in the terrace for over five months , I discovered that lightning isn’t purely attributed to rain. Nature can spray sparks and glitters on the sky whenever she feels like it.

At the moment , I can’t help but pause between moments of the most magnificent light show I’ve ever watched to record it.

It’s happening over a large area, probably in one fifth of the Prussian blue hemisphere that surrounds me. Large splatters of light in Grey and pink , occasionally disclosing the clouds beneath that would rather hide themselves in the night. The splendid rays, are at times big , at times small, at times in a single area, at times two or three, at times many, pour out from the depths of the sky , smile for a few seconds and get back to veil themselves again deep inside .

Had I a good camera and known to play the piano, I would’ve made a personal motion picture for myself.💙

26.07.2020

(A page from my notebook , when quarantine was full fledged)

To My Thala

My brother swarmed into the dining place yelling that my MSD has retired. That moment , that was a shocker. I was left thoughtless and time seemed to have freezed for a few seconds. I was sincerely hoping from the depths of my heart that it should be a fake news. But it unfortunately turned out to be true.

‘19 29 hours , consider me as retired‘ is what he wrote , in words that resonate him and his beautiful humble personality. I now contemplate with a heavy heart on how did he feel when he wrote this . But , as I know him,his authentic self ,that would give a thumbs up, a beautiful smile ,share the trophy with his youngest of players and completely commit to enjoying with all of us the little joy of looking at all those glitter papers that would sprinkle out of nowhere during the winning photo sessions, I know he would have been smiling this time as well!

It is only because of him that I got to love this whole world of cricket. For me, Cricket is only YOU , my thala and cricket would never be the same without you!

Even when he pops up in a random advertisement, I watch him in all glee appreciating his really charming acting skills. Boost was my favorite childhood drink just because of him! I would yearn like crazy for the tennis balls with his signature that used to come as a free gift for a boost pack.

The first newspaper collage notebook I ever created were only pictures of him and Raina. There is not a single diary of mine that I haven’t mentioned his name. My galleries , my facebook timeline and all those pretty slam book pages I filled in school would be incomplete without him.

All the late night cricket matches , the Super thrilling finishing sixers, the light-paced stumpings , crazily intelligent decisions , bromances on the field, witty interviews and your pretty smile will forever be missed.

Thank you for all the memories thala❤ I’ll always look up to you and you will always be my icon!

You are the best !

Love you❤

Everyone and everything

Nature has a shelter and an escape

For everyone and everything

Glossy green leaves for the parrots to hide

Those blushed with some brown for the mynahs

Little young twigs for the humming birds and the other little ones

Nooks where trees branch out for squirrels to bite in solitude

Dense old velvet leaves that would cover up for the mishaps of the others

Dark black shades for the supposed vile cobras to rest

Air bubbles amid soil specks for the worms to breathe

Tiny-ness for all the tinies

Snow for the whites and grays

Blue – ness for the blues

Slenderness for the slender

Mist for the dry

Fur for the cold

Invisible exit for the ceased

A womb for her vulnerable newbies .

Conversations

The silences amidst conversations –

That’s where I discover people .

Seldom is that silence not twitchy!

Seldom in that silence –

I enjoy my hot chocolate

Feel the icy fondle of wet grass on my feet

Listen to the sea waves rub

Spot a distant bird

Appreciate a passer-by ‘s costumes

Let my muscles relax

Have a tiny day dream

Or just revel in my mind’s stillness .

The beauty of people,

Is in how their presence

Blends in with Nature.

And how much I love them

Is in how effortlessly

I restart the conversation.

Cure

The said ‘Peace’ after war ; I don’t think it’s Peace. It’s an invisible turbulence , an illusionary contentment with all baffling internal conflict.

But Art, for it is infinite ,readily embraces conflict, pain and yearning as it does anything else and heals such fierce wounds etched deep in the very consciousness of a population.

All cure is in Art.

(The painting is inspired from a scene from the play ‘Kanehira’ directed by Dr. Velu Saravanan)

I type stuff in here

And go .

But , wish I could see you

Smile

Frown or

Have that empty face

Lift a single brow up

Draw both of them close

Wink

Widen your eyes or

Crease your forehead

Flatten your lips ,

Make a clownish pull up or down or

Just make that I don’t care face!

So, out of great curiosity

What are you wearing on your face now?