The writing.

The writer
Read all owned books,
Researched in the library,
Surfed the internet,
Listened to scholars,
Discussed with friends,
Observed the world around,
Travelled far and wide,
Learnt people’s customs,
And almost everything
That crossed his path..

While he wrote,
His pen would glide on paper,
Pausing only between words
For the requirement of space
Rather than for the thought,
And to refill the ink
But not to replenish the idea..
There was no draft,
What was written is final,
For there were no changes to be made..
There were no crossings,
No strike outs,
No rephrasing,
No corrections..
The text written was
Properly aligned
And filled just that page..
No more, No less..

The writing style
Is called impromptu,
By most people..
But is it really so?

Isn’t the thoughts
Bettered, cultured and educated
All through the past living?

So is there anything
Which is what it really is?!

And now you, the reader,
Have added a tiny note to your thought,
Consciously or unconsciously..
Which would reflect
Maybe in the very next thing you write,
Or just lay hidden as the seed,
To grow into a nourished thought,
And spread it’s essence
In a far future writing..
Which might even be titled
Impromptu! 😉

[Thanks to Mr.Hari for an awesome prompt for this post. Now I would like to extend the challenge of finding the given prompt for this post.. 😉 And the winner gets to provide the next prompt.. 😀]

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Visual appeal..

Though I have never displayed my photo on my blog, please do believe me when I say that, I do have a very photogenic face and I do have some great pictures taken.

There is one special photograph of me taken at the age of about two / three. It is not so uncommon in that age to braid the hair, adorn it with flowers and take a picture of that long hair along with the front view, right before tonsuring (head shaving) for the first time.

I was all dressed up pretty and was having a beautifully designed braid. It was time to take the customary photo consisting of both the front and back view. Please bear in mind that taking photograph is such a rarity and reserved only for very special occasions. So there were only very few pictures taken at that age.

Back to the photo.. It was easy to take the picture of the front view, though they hadn’t taken it first. When they asked me to turn back and show the braid for clicking the picture, as my parents say, I was not turning back. When they insisted, I had argued that how will the photo has my face, if you take it when I am facing the other way?

Seems quite logical, when you can’t make the kid-me understand that both front and rear view will be merged into a single picture and it just shows the doll-me front and back.

Thus the resultant photo was an expression less back form, along with the sullen face next to it!

Of course, it does bring a good laugh around whenever we see the picture now, even though I’m sullen faced and cute just as tiny toddlers could be!

Oops.. The stolen mango!

Over the terrace, I mentioned in my last post, was a large mango tree. During summer, the mangoes were hanging low enough, from the part of tree spilling into the terrace.

They are low enough for kids to pluck them without much struggle. Yet, we kids were always reminded to stay away from the tree, for there might be tiny insects and I was so allergic to them.

Yet, the allure of those tasty raw mango are far more inviting than the constant reminders. So we decided to pluck it. And we did it.

No, there wasn’t any insect bite or any allergic reactions or no cause to question our safety.

But we, me and my cousin, didn’t dare to go into the house shouting our victory. Though we were safe, we were not sure that about the scolding we might receive. It was a small mango and we thought of finishing it in the terrace itself and throw away the seed.

When we were almost half through, grandpa came onto terrace in search of us. We were caught green-handed, I mean with mango in our hands and I sort of panicked for a moment.

As he was about to question about it, I volunteered that the mango fell by itself, as some squirrel or parrot might have nibbled and dropped them.

Though we were spared from any scolding, we were to give away that mango! For it might not be properly cleaned. Sigh! Our heart was already content from half of it and we parted with it. But soon afterwards, it was nicely cleaned up and cut into small bite sized pieces and given back to us!

Nights on terrace

One of the happiest memory of childhood is the time spent on terrace after dinner. Sometimes even for dinner!

And those night outs require some prep work done by evening. We have to splatter water so that it is not so hot for relaxing later on. This is one of the favorite chore on the summer vacation. As we get to play with water, while we also get some work done.

Regressing, I wonder how our well was up to its maximum capacity even during summer and the idea of water scarcity was not even so remote in the ideas. Also, the water comes from well, that is self replenishing, whereas the water waste from bath and kitchen goes to water the plants and trees of the garden.

Still, I think I might not be watering the terrace just for cooling effect, while the water is becoming much more precious day to day..

Anyway, twenty years back, that’s the only source for cooling as air conditioners are not so common and also the electricity can’t be trusted at all times for fans.

I’m moving away from the main idea. Getting back to it…

Those night time gatherings are so great memories, for that’s the time the entire family gathered together and shared much more than stories. That’s where the creativity is kindled with riddles. That’s where the knowledge is passed on through generations. That’s where we counted stars and believed we could finish it some day. That’s where we learnt stories of our parents as kids and it was always a pleasure to see the parents be kiddish, which makes them more likable even if they reprimand us for our pranks.

So that’s where life was at is jest, happiness breezed along, cheerfulness lingering like the distant train’s passing, and smiles were abundant, while making the childhood best of times!

Good Night or Good Knight?!

There is a secret handshake or something unique, each kid creates when they are young, and few sustain the time and others are lost. Those lost memories, when revived add a smile to the self and sometimes may earn the awkward reaction, from the listener.

My mother tongue is Tamizh, a language which doesn’t have the concept of ‘silent’ characters as much as English. And for a kid starting to spell the words, that is a bit complicated concept to grasp. One such complicated word for me was “Knight”. The word was introduced by the brand name “Good Knight”, the mosquito coil, before it was introduced to me by school.

So on that day of introduction, at night, I said, “Good Knight.”
But how do you differentiate between the night and knight, while saying it out aloud?
Hence, Good night was followed by “Gooduk night” (Yeah, that’s how the toddler me pronounced it!)

And from then on the following became my father’s and my Good night routine.

Good Night
Gooduk Night
GK
GN

And for years it was exchanged daily and with time it was forgotten, until my sister was in school. And by then, she knew how to pronounce “Knight” and lots more. Also, we have changed the brand of our mosquito repellent to “All Out”

So when we narrated this story, she asked why stop with one brand and created a new big series for exchange and she tells them in the same order every single time without any interchange. The List grew into…

Good Night
Gooduk Night
GK
GN
Good Knight
All Out
Mortein
Martin Cooper
Albert Einstein
Issac Newton
GOOD NIGHT

Wondering from where did all those people come? Or have you guessed it rightly that was the day, she learnt the name of those scientists and she started linking with the phonetics of Mortein-Martin…

And thus Newton and Einstein came into our everyday lives! Who would have guessed.. 😉

Everlasting friendship..

It’s said that if a friendship survives for seven years, it will last a lifetime.

Yes, it’s true for me.

Our friendship started when we were seven and now we are decades stronger.

How it started?

When I moved to a new neighborhood in apartments. Contests were being held as part of their annual celebrations and there is only one competitor for mein every contestI entered into. In later years, we teamed up and the association always got very similar prizes for both of us, irrespective of the first and second places we would get.

Also, we were mostly considered twins, due to our facial similarities and also the way we were always found together almost at all times, despite attending different schools.

How did it survive?

After five wonderful years, we had to shift and it was the first time, I experienced the pain of parting ways. It was the time when telephone digits were just three or four and existed only in certain offices and such.

But the pen pals were in rage, by then. And yes, we wrote to each other occasionally and shared few cards, though the times we remembered each other were much more than that.

Later, we connected over phone after years, and the teenage years went busy in our own separate ways. When we met again after almost a decade, nothing much has changed between us and now the technology keeps us connected!

Our story together alone could take up much space and few of them might be coming up in this series.

How about sharing your longest friendship story?

Cry for help!

A big house, grand parents, two cousins, a game.

What could go wrong?

Nothing much, unless the game is to play police and thief, by a 5 year old and 3 year old. And the police decides to tie down the thief in an adult sized chair with real rope with real knot!

Oh yes, I did tie up my cousin and was not expecting to have tied a real knot and also was not expecting my cousin to start crying, because he couldn’t get out.

I started panicking as just one of the two is enough to land me into a good scolding and how am I going to resolve either of them?

And I too started to cry.. Don’t judge me! I was a helpless five year old!

And of course, eventually he was rescued from the knots and indeed we both had received scolding for the next hour or so.

Though till day, we haven’t discussed the instance as grown ups, it created a fear in me to get into games, from which I couldn’t rescue myself and it has also helped me to learn tying knots properly, to remove or to tighten.

And just like every crying memory of past brings a smile in the present, I do smile whenever I see any kid playing police-thief.

So what’s your smiling memory from your childhood?