Day 15 - Writing Challenge; unlike any man you ever knew

There was once a rich man who had two sons. The elder one was obedient, enduring and kind. Typical first-child syndrome. The youngest was carefree, reckless and without ambition. The wealthy father loved his sons greatly. He did not withhold any good thing from them.

The younger son being taken in his youthful frolic spent his days and night with his friends. Foolish company one might add as every time his friends were together, there was debauchery, drugs and poverty of the mind. His father kept a watchful eye on him, however the demands of juvenile escapades were far too discreet and he escaped the admonition of the good man of the house.

Days turned to months, and as roots get stronger in the mire, the boy could not bring himself out of this demonic hole. Friends abandoned him as money ran dry. With much shame he resolved to find his own employment and not return to his home of birth. But the truth is he had no skill or talent. He went starving for most days without even a meal or drink. Ended up laying in a pig sty with no room to stay. He ate the swine's feed and drank muddied water.

Every night he wailed bitterly, heart-broke thinking of the fortress he grew up in. The many servants who were there to assist at a snap of a finger. Copious amounts of food and drink that was available at all times of the day. Above all he was the favourite to his father. He thought to himself, even if I were a servant at my father's palace, I would have a better life that this.

One morning he decided to leave this hell hole and walked toward home. His heart beating out of his chest, agonized, guilt-ridden, full of shame yet with a glimmer of hope because he knew the heart of his father.

His father saw him miles away, as though anticipating his return every minute of every day. Even though he looked unrecognizable, dirty and reeking. It did not deter his steps as he ran towards his son for an embrace. 

Whatever the son did, it did not matter.

However far he had gone, it did not matter.

What lengths his iniquities were, it did not matter.

That lost son is you and me. Whatever we have done, it does not matter to our Father in Heaven. We can return to him at any time. You cannot find such a love except with this man who volunteered to give His life for you in return for your love.

Day 14 - Writing challenge; Sheela & Rajendran

Sheela Rajendran is obsessed with laces. From handkerchief frills, curtains, dresses and even tea towels, her love for laces was far known. A beautiful woman. Kind, tender, sheepish-looking smile but genuine nonetheless. Big eyes but not Indian looking, rather middle east. Overweight but not obese. Wheat-ish and pale at the same time. A school teacher for middle-school. Soft to touch, snuggly and amiable. 

Her natural love for children was amplified in her tenderness and teaching prowess. A woman is most fulfilled in the design she was made, whether she believes it or not. And such woman do glow like a picture of devotion and contentment.

A woman's heart however is as deep as an ocean. The secrets she hold, her own people cannot fathom.

Mr. Rajendran was of noble birth and erudite. His gentlemanly and tall stature added to his credit. He was a shy man. They say that in his capacity as secretary to the minister of education, he has helped many underprivileged students overseeing the lack of requirements they must fulfill. He believed in duty, integrity and dignity for all. He inherited this job because of his father's passing and was working for the government in the ministry of education wing.

The story of Sheela and Rajendran is one of love, not of romance for they both are siblings. 

Falling in love with Jesus

I have lived long enough on this earth to have the cognizance of what makes people fall in love, stay in love and even run out of love. The sweetest, cutest, honest, or the niftiest is not going to cut to the chase. Having an extraordinary partner doesn't seem good enough. Is it because the human heart is crazy or are we unsatiable? It is secret option number three.


Before we go there, why isn't our heart "fully" satisfied? That is because the heart is not a simple love machine, it is complex, preposterous and has an impermeable layer of purity that worldly love cannot pour into. You may think I am making this stuff up , but you're welcome to verify and research and even take a moment and reflect. How much ever a person loves you, treats you well, trusts you, appreciates you, floods you with goodness, there is vaccum and loneliness lurking somewhere in your heart. The love your heart earns is of Jesus.

I was a tramp

People who know me think I am this Jesus fanatic, obsessed, walking in the sides, coloring within the lines goodie churchie girl. They couldn't be more wrong. There is also this idea that I am religious - wooah! I didn't want to befriend Jesus you know, because let's be honest. It didn't make sense. If I am screaming in pain and want someone to get me pizza and chocolate, He isn't going to be my friend and show up at my doorstep. So what does it really mean to call Jesus your friend?

I live with this understanding, that even people who love you the most cannot sometimes help you. This is true because, they are also people and there is only so much humans can do that can heal the heart. Inversely, Jesus can do better than a human. He is not just better than human help but there is nothing beyond Him.

I find myself wondering atimes if my devotion to Jesus is because I cannot find a truer friend than Him or is it because I love Him? Its a fine line. Sure, I love that He spoils me with goodness. But that's not it, He really understands. He is open to my imperfections. He is accepting of my flaws. He is not judgemental. He is patient. He believes in me. He is my cheer leader. He encourages me to do better. He wants me. He desires me. His heart longs for me, 

Why then would I mot fall in love with Him!

Moved to tears: a story on sisterhood

The benediction was given and the congregation was dismissed. Edith walked to the pulpit from behind to meet the minister. She was stopped by Jane to her surprise and they exchanged pleasantries and friendly hugs. Edith was 36, married and with kids. She had a calm, charming and contagiously giggly personality. Jane was 5 years younger and they both knew each other through the years of attending the same church and being in the same fellowship. 

Jane told Edith, as her face turned warm and her eyes moist, 'remember me in your prayers sis, in the new year at least God should grant us a blessing.' and looked away poignantly. Edith understood her inference and took Jane's hands in a firm clasp and said tenderly, 'I have been praying for you everyday. I see you every week, and I know how you must be feeling being the only one left among your friends. Many of us are praying and God will certainly bless you. Keep your faith, the Lord will do great things for you.' 

As cool springs in a parched desert, Edith's words moistened Jane's weary heart, and as she looked up to give her a final peck and leave, she was stunned to see a heavy drop of tear slide down Edith's face.

Jane's pain was seen in Edith's eyes. They hugged again.

When girlfriends spill the beans

I present to you emotions. Emotions of wantedness, validation, belongingness and companionship. I have both given and received love in abundance. The soaring midnight calls, waking up to good morning texts, the i-miss-u's and the i-love-you's, the flirtatious nudging, pinching, holding of hands and rubbing of fingers within tightly held palms, the deliberately mistaken touch in a crowded elevator followed by a sly smile, inappropriate banter, from feeling each others toes from under the table, canoodling in a car or petting with eyes across a room amongst peers. 

I know it all, have seen it all, and had it all.

But what happens when you snap out from a Cecelia Ahern's novel and realise that's not good enough? This smoke of romance has been fogging your vision life. In other words, what do you do when life happens (read as shit happens). You look into those emotions, an the people associated with them and all you find are a bunch of prawn heads that make you squirm.

We want the real deal and most often than not, we realise we are somewhat missing it. It could be monetary accomplishments, emotional unavailability, or even not getting some. The need for an uplifting bunch of people to call as our own, our people and kin. Intellectual companionship that is simple and straightforward. No underlying intentions or hidden agendas. No need of coy or flattery. Just outspoken, honest and decent talk. Is that too much to ask Apparently! Despite being kind, approachable, jovial, temperament and level-headed, it's hard to find your tribe.

Its almost like being good and moral is the reason we fail. The world has changed so much that it doesn't hold good in good stead anymore. 

Call ended 00:57:29

Writing is my therapy.

You know how you have some horrible days when everything goes haywire and you feel you're breathing havoc? Yeah? What does a nominal person do to calm himself down? Take a walk, get in the shower may be, play with a pet, bawl in agony?

Well, I write.

I write not just to make myself feel better but because it helps me anatomize the situation. When I sit to write, thoughts don't flow, it pours. It pours like a mad man screaming from the middle of a street. Some other times I have a brain freeze. I cannot comprehend my own thoughts. I need to pause my wrecking mind in order to think; and because I look forward to penning it down, I think harder. I play my life in slow-mo, never skipping a scene as memory serves.

I continue thinking about what I should have done. I think of the possibilities, I think of my trail of thoughts in that situation. Basically, my need to write is not just an ardent desire but my catalyst for self-examination. Without a doubt every time I have completed writing a piece, I have felt liberated and redeemed. My best friends are my words. I knit them with the song in my heart and tune them to the thoughts in my mind.

Writing is meat to my muscle, cure to my sorrow and joy to my heart.

About last night.

In the glum darkness of the night, I sat up on my bed. My heart heavy as wet laundry. My tongue stuck to my palate, my eye balls hid under its lids in despair. I straightened my skimpy clothes and considered the life I was given. Contemplated on every opportunity presented, the decisions I made, the experiences I had, the pain I carried, and the tears I wiped.

The sound of thunder and lightning alarmed me and I looked at the fierceness of the bolts savage through my window. I watched nature in action from my melancholic room as the curtains swayed in the mild wind. Is the weather outside painting the accurate picture of the turbulence in my heart? Thoughts rummaged once again pressing my spirit to the lowest pit and I partially went deaf in the ear and numb in my being for a brief while.

Why is it I always feel like I am walking on a rope, why can't I take risks, face challenges and make something out of myself? Why can't my stomach be flat and legs be slim like its meant to be, why can't I have eyebrows that are arch shaped and not like a straight line drawn by a child. I investigated and dissected every meaningful, trivial situation I was ever a part of. Shed drops of salted distress on forgotten heartbreaks, unsavoured relationships, awkward moments, meaningless friendships, self pity and the need for validation.

Sometimes, we women look into our entire lives because we want to be in control, some other times it's just PMS.

He played me

I'll call you back, he said.
She waited for hours, expecting.
His sweet words of simple pleasures lured her.
She lolled around with never-ending anticipation.
He had promises of hope and care.
She surrendered to petty joys.
And succumbed to trivial temptations.

The other guy.

He makes me smile.
He makes me dream.

He runs in my mind.
He races my heart.

He excites my senses.
He seduces my hormones.

He lets me be me.
He lets me speak my mind.

He undresses me.
My spirit, soul and body.

He gives me hope, but he won't be around.
He says he loves me, but it is not without reason.

He makes me feel special,
Because I need validation to feel so.

He makes me feel beloved.
I enjoy that attention because I lack maturity.

He gives me much importance.
I enjoy how it feeds my pride.

He has a consuming effect on me,
Because he is not 'the one' but the other guy.

Go figure!

Every girl believes she is beautiful. How much weightage she assigns to this truth is relative, but in her soul, every girl thinks she looks beautiful (at least in some angles). I am no exception. Growing up, I did not worry much about my looks. My idea of good looking was neat looking and presentable, nothing more. Then came adolescence, that didn't change me either. I was mostly by myself and thankfully did not have a rebellious attitude. Late teens and early 20s - not much of a change, hadn't used a kohl pencil (eye liner) or a foundation on face up until then. Could say was the biggest make-up virgin in grad school.

Went to Bangalore for my post-grad. Met a bunch of good people and a lot of wannabes. Discovered myself, not necessarily my strengths, but discovered myself for who I was. I knew what I was made of, what I was inclined to, what I abhorred, what I fancied and that was a great learning. Worked for a couple of years there and moved back to Chennai, home of my heart. You know how you get your way around some things effortlessly? Like I didn't really have to work or strive for few comforts. It just happened to me every time, like I was entitled to it and the cosmic powers worked in unison to have that thing delivered to me. But with age, I got more wise and I think I jinxed it or real life happened.

I became intrigued observing and moving with people who did certain things in a certain fashion and always found good results. There was a plan, there was a pattern. They had a routine, they were conscious of everything they would think, say, do or not do. I figured the character mix of people who are beautiful and successful are hardworking, positive, genuine, kind hearted, friendly, cool-headed, empathetic, perseverant and they invariably had a high self-esteem. This list may not be exclusive but surely this is the combination. Every person's path of discovery of himself is different, but when the desire burns bright, the light is shone on the path. That is a certainty.

Vaishnavi Kasthuri Rangan.

My friend, my dear friend.
My shining angel, my beautiful baby.
I have hardly seen your face.
But you have a face in my heart.
The face of a survivor, a fighter and a victor.

Friendship is a celebration of two hearts. Yours and mine.
I remember the time I sat next to you in a math class.
You looked so radiant, your brilliance shone through.
I remember the inline trebles in your voice when you talk, the sound of intelligence.
I raved in your companionship, in the acknowledgement of knowing someone so beautiful, elegant, bold and strong.

Every person has a path.
Yours was much different than most people I know.
That's why you were most beautiful than most people I knew.

Today I saw you,
Surrendered in a box.
I cannot speak, my heart is in my throat.
I saw the frailtiness of humans and the honour of a race won.

People may say you succumbed to your sickness. I think you surpassed it.
You went to the place you deserve.
You deserve peace my baby.
Rest from all pain and suffering.
Rest from all the medicines and tests.
Rest from all the heartaches and breakdowns.

You are bigger than what took you.

You are an angel. You have given to me what most people will not find in their lifetime. You have taught me what is love, courage, strength and modesty. You were unstoppable. There is nothing stopping you even now. Walk in the garden of God, make the celestial world bright with your smile and sparkle. You are a beautiful soul my baby, my miracle child. I loved you so much, perhaps I never showed and perhaps you'll never know. God speed Vysh. xoxo.

Closure.

It was the first week and I looked my personal best. In my profession, it doesn't help to be passive, as marketers, we need to be ahead of our game to stay relevant in the game. I am chirpy, straight-forward and a no-nonsense person, so my personality naturally fit my calibre. I was sprinting around getting work done with unfaltering attention from the very first day. It might look too ambitious for a person who just joined, but not for me. I did not reckon anyone eyeballing me for I could care less. Sigh, I was mistaken!

Trouble.

Couple of days passed and I was all the more absorbed with work. The organisation did not encourage socialising and I sensed the need for it but didn't think it would lead to this. Cue for trouble, there was this guy. Lets call him dickson [makes a lot of sense actually]. I am not going to detail on what kind of a person he was, how he made me feel, what we shared, and all of that, because it was all very very good [insert excerpts from Nicholas Sparks or Cecilia Ahern's books]. 

What we had was so wrong on so many levels, but it felt complete, complementing and comforting to our lives, so the good or the bad was overlooked and mushy emotions overtook seasoned virtues.

Truth.

I am not going to rampage his character or ridicule his cowardliness. I still believe he is a nice guy. As Michelle Monaghan says in the movie Made of Honor, 'you are perfect, but not for me'. [I just gave that dickhead too much credit, whatdahell, he's doomed anyway]. No really, he was nice but not good enough for me. I stand by how good of a person he was. But not to me. Nope. Assassinating someone's character is a reflection of my character, and I am not that character. He hurt me, real deep. But I still think he was a nice person. [Nice, that's the only word I can use without cringing]. My expectations and order of life differed from his. Simply put, I had higher standards. I own up when I screw up, I don't give up and disappear. 

As compelling and difficult it is to remain unaffected by his folly, giving him another chance would mean choosing docile feelings over personal respect and that I will never do.

Treason.

If he really cared like he made me believe, he would not have chickened out. If he felt that I mattered and would never leave me like he said, he would have tried to reconnect. I am young enough to still wear my heart on my sleeve but old enough to know who is worth it. Life is not a Boyzone song to just use words and stay put. You have to stand up when situations arise and prove to people who matter that they really matter. Else you will just be a well known stranger and that's who you will always be. 

Because I know I am not losing a good person, to me losing him is not a loss. Peace.

Lost love.

He fought with my classmate so he can be my partner in terrace shuttle. He smiled at me when he won him over. We were 7.

When we came near the car park, he eyeballed me to make my dress right as my petticoat strap was seen. He smiled at me when I pushed it in. We were 15.

He surprised me by standing outside my gym with an umbrella on a rainy day, he smiled at me when he saw how special I felt. We were 18.

He accompanied me on a long journey for my personal work. He didn't want me going alone. He asked me to rest my head on his shoulder when returning home in the train. He smiled at me when I shyed away. We were 21.

After many fights and heartbreaks, I asked him if we can start afresh. He said he is too hurt to invest in me again. I smiled at him because I knew we were coming to an end and I needed to protect myself. We were 23.

I accidently looked behind and he was there. It's on a Friday, please come, I said. But I didn't write him a card. He smiled at me and I felt nothing. We were 25.

I stalk him on social media sometimes. I listen to the song he composed and played for me. I recall all the priceless moments of joy we shared. He still smiles but not at me. We are 27.

Letting go.

How?
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In Jesus Name.

The end.

Finding Jesus.

Jesus is not a bad word. Unless you are not willing to help yourself and admit you need someone who will love you unconditionally and will not judge and ridicule you for your faults, don't bother to read further.

God created the Heaven and the Earth and all things in between. He is the Giver of life, the Captain of all people, and the Chiefest of Counselors. It amazes me that someone (Jesus) of such stature in all respects has unfulfilled desires. See God is great (we all would have heard that a lot) but let me tell you this. He is very poor too. He is so poor that sometimes He is longing for our attention. There are a zillion people on this planet, yet the Lord wants to spend time with you. Yes, you. He enjoys your company in prayer, thanksgiving, singing and praises. 

The heart of Jesus is so huge that it can forgive all the mistakes of all the people that are to ever walk on this earth and still so tender and compassionate that it breaks a little every time we hurt him. I wish people understand Jesus the right way. I do not understand how someone can ever misunderstand Him. I can give you an array of adjectives to describe His character and love for you, but I want to talk to you about the heart of Jesus. His heart is everything that is love, care, grace, affection, mercy, compassion, long-suffering, purity, and so much more.

You may not have been introduced to Jesus, may be you didn't have a Christian friend or may be the family you are from raised you in an orthodox and uptight manner that blinded your inner eyes. Whatever the case may be, its not late.. yet. More than anything Jesus is your friend, He has the potential to be your best friend and mentor. 

Just come to a place of peace and stillness in your heart and commune with Jesus. Try Him. Call on Him. Talk to Him. Ask Him. Seek Him. YOU WILL FIND HIM.

The other side to a story.

Just got back from kissing goodbye to my little nephew (3.5 y.o.) and niece (6 y.o.) at the Chennai International airport. They are adorable, let me tell you that much. Their mamma and dadda decided to move to Oman, Muscat for good. So these two babies are super excited going to a foreign land but on the same hand seeing their mamma cry as she kissed and hugged us, broke their tiny hearts. Children are the embodiment of guilelessness and to see their precious hearts pained and watch pristine tears roll was truly a difficult moment for me.  

Most tears proceed from hurt, others through guilt and few others from pity. But the tears from these two were from an emotion they could not even understand. Such is the heart of children. They did not know what they were missing or the understanding of being away from your extended family is hurtful until their mother introduced the other side of it when she let her cheeks get moist. I don't expect her to be cold or I don't suggest she should have contained her emotions, but the children were the happiest till the moment they witnessed another side to the jolly journey to a foreign land.

I wish the other side of some stories in life are hid to me as well. As much as I am curious to learn and inquisitive about new things, somethings in life are better if not known. To be informed is one thing and to be over informed is another. Living in this time of age, it's scary to not know enough and its disturbing if you know too much. Ignorance is indeed bliss and too much knowledge is certainly dangerous. However I am going to miss these doll faces <3

Roses, Red hearts & Champagne - Oh please!

The idea of having one particular day in an entire year just to celebrate love is downright hypocrisy, rather stupid. Don't ya think? I mean love is the rudimentary element in a relationship. Its akin to respect and affection. To make such a radical matter as a luxury and blow magic glitter around it is ridiculous. I understand celebrating birthdays and anniversaries, but celebrating love on one specific day? Duh! Then why don't we have a bath or eat day or a brush your hair day? 

Just to be clear I am not against Valentine's day. I understand the emotion. I dig the fanciness and cheesiness that goes with this day and for the record I celebrate it too..before-you-scratch-my-eyes-out, I can guarantee, I have done all the things which are usually done only on a valentine's day (by some people) at least once in a month with my loved ones except not wishing them Happy Valentine's day. 

So the real question is how special do you make your loved ones feel the rest of the days in a year?

Breezy love.

This is me whenever I am wind-kissed <3

Do not trivialize the touch of an impartial chilly wind that blows at you at a manageable speed. I am a big believer of simple pleasures. When was the last time you noticed the twinkle in the eyes of a 2 year old and allowed your heart to be embraced by that innocence? Or when did you last talk to an old dame and be charmed by the slowness in her speech and the coyness in her words? Ah, I can just keep going on.. but am not :)

Have you ever sat alone in an open terrace midst tall trees and felt overcome by the joy of life? If you have, you exactly know what am talking about. The touch of breeze is so cleansing, it sometimes feels like I have been breathed upon with new life. It is an instant mood-lifter, a spontaneous hugger and a no-conditions-apply stress buster. I think it has in it the power to mesmerize and hypnotize too, cause not later than my friendly visit with the winds (in the terrace or at the beach), I am immediately in a better place mentally and I get a fresh perspective even on mundane things.

God Himself walked in the garden (of Eden) in the cool of the day. (Genesis 3:8, The Holy Bible). Should I say more? If God enjoyed his walks in chilly winds, there ain't no doubt how refreshing it is. It is safe to say that wind has a secondary purpose of easing our lives besides primarily giving us life (oxygen). Next time you are at a breezy place, get some love. Its free.

Life goes on..

Packing lunch for parents is quite a nice thing to do, so I hurriedly stuffed their boxes, as parents can also be like the kids that run late to school. It was around 10 am and I felt that the day was already over. I hate the feeling of having nothing to do in a world of infinite opportunities. Um, yeah, I heard how it sounded in your head. So let me rephrase it, "I hate myself for allowing me to feel that I have nothing to do in this world of infinite opportunities."

Unable to delete those defecating thoughts of nothingness and self pity, I went to my room and spiralled on my bed. I was telling myself in the ghastly way possible that I do not want to sleep away right now, I do not want to be succumbed to anything lecherous or defiling on thoughts or actions just because I feel empty inside. I lay there feeling bleak at heart and pained in my soul. I think I allowed myself to fall asleep for 15 mins, it felt like one of those cold nights, where the chillness in the atmosphere gives you the feeling of luxury and comfort, the natures way. I thought it was raining as I could hear the droplets of joy and the smell of sweet petrichor and I could feel my heart dampen with cognizance and willingness to shake off my doleful and pessimistic feeling about life.

I turned over and faced the ceiling, still having my eyes closed as I was too afraid to open my eyes to my pathetic self. I told myself under my breath those 3 magic words, 'Life goes on..' 

"Everyday is a choice we make to improve our present state of life or dig ourselves an early grave." I thought of all the underprivileged people on this planet, destroyed by the inability to grow out of their poverty, drug addiction, slavery, epidemic diseases and those dying in war camps and battlefield. I thought of the free life I have, without ANY of the above mentioned cripplement. Every moment is a decision we make to be happy and bold irrespective of the circumstances we are in. 

Moment of Weakness.

Sitting quietly in an unnoticed corner with tears dripping continuously and my heart racing over my will power, I think of the moment that will be if I gave in to this moment of weakness. Why do I call it a weakness when it seems as the right-est thing to do? It is weakness because I know in my mind and somewhere in my heart that I should not be doing it. 

Why should I not choose that part of my heart that encourages me to do the thing that 'seems' like the right thing to do? I cannot cave to that part of my heart as that is the part I created to support my irrational thoughts and talk me into the things that I do not wish to do (in the right mind) but still wish to do.

I want it so bad, I don't think I can go past the compelling feeling of wanting to make a call or send a text. If I go ahead and give in to that moment of weakness, I will for that single moment or two be happy or don't know how I will actually feel. If it was really good for my life, why is there no peace in my heart, why are my cheeks still wet and why am I choking over my own voice? 

If this is real happiness why is it making me so weak?