If for a day ...

Being a woman is quite a task. Her mind is restless and is constantly in search of a fulfillment which allures her. But then there is this role, which she is expected to uphold in all her relationships and thoughts. If for a day I am free of my restraints -- the mangalsutra on my neck, my son's innocent breath on my bosom, my parents dignity, the integrity my profession demands of and all that -- If only for a day I am freed of all these, what would I do..

I have wild passion submerged deep within me- passion for love, passion for being loved, passion for being touched in ways like never before,  passion for happiness, passion for intense orgasmic adventures and passion for being the real sensual woman I am deep within. I would want to explore all of these.

I love being loved. I love the romance coming out of me, with a soft look or touch. I love to hold his hand and sit next to him on a bench overlooking the sea, I do not want the security of a handbag between us on the bench. I love to blush as he looks at me and then my cheeks turning pale as he sings me those lines .. Manithar unarnnu kolkai, ithu manithar kaathal allai, Athaiyum thaandi punithamaanathu ...I love to be a child in his hug, a woman when his face presses into my falling hair. It maybe the momentary passion that drives me yearn for all these.But these are my thoughts I crush down to the bottom of my heart, and not allowing to surface.  What is wrong in all these, I wonder.  Living for myself is the ultimate truth I evade from.

Commitment is a fake word. I too wear it as a vermilion, as an 'I love you' and 'I am yours' as a routine. If I can think of only one man in my dreams, it has to be a natural trait. It shouldn't be that I stop thinking of a man because I am committed to another. Who said there is the rule of monogamy in love and passion. An honest person may be the most 'immoral' one and the happiest too. If I am true to myself, why should I feel guilty at all. The more I try to meet the moral standards, the more fake and pervert I am turning out to be.

I hate hurting anyone, let alone the one I love. But is not my fake commitment worse than the hurt it costs to keep me true to myself.

I am the biggest fake, I have ever known.
And they say I am a woman !

Kiss

One of those nights pained with romance, flamed by intense love..

He said: I want you to kiss me hard on my lips, your both hands firmly holding my collars

She jerked, her heart fluttered, pulse a bit high, tone a bit husky..

She asked: For the first time you are asking me, its usually you who..

He : Tell me, is there a difference if it is me or you

She: Yes, when you kiss me, I melt in your love. When I kiss you, I pour on you my wild love and passion

He:  Let me melt ...

And she wished she had him near,  to hold, to look at ,  to touch lips with..

HUGS !

“Hugs & Kisses” has become a default setting in e-communication, so much so that it is used at times irrelevantly and demeaning the sanctity of it. Kisses, I am not bothered much .. one can kiss in a variety of ways, under a variety of circumstances. But a Hug matters much to me, the hugs I have given and taken..as also the ones I fantasize!

I meant truly that hug which I forced upon my colleague, when I sat on the road fallen from a bike, waiting to get up to see for sure that I haven’t a broken leg.

I cherish that innocent hug which my niece gives me at the railway station every year when I go home. And that great big hug from my big brother after a couple of years of silence between us! I enjoy seeing the envy in my sister in law’s eyes, when my (other) brother hugs me tight. When my mom (rarely) hugs me she adorns it with a kiss, when she presses her lips on my cheek and draws her breath in, as if to inhale me into her. Whenever my dad hugged me, I had pulled away for no reason.

My son is growing up and shows signs of disinterest in the cuddling I very lovingly squeeze on him. He pulls away from me, but at times he forgets his growing ego and comes to me and lies on my tummy and hugs me tight. With his little fingers, he touches my abdomen through the lifted edges of my t-shirt.

Whenever I feel uneasy for whatever reason it may be, I just hug my hubby and if he reciprocates, I feel at peace with the world at large – a very protected and safe feel. Many times he pushes me away too, saying ‘you come to me at all odd times’, like rushing to office - hour. I tell him that ‘I haven’t come to you for anything more than a hug’, and forces myself on him, and makes him lose a little more of his time on an extended kiss as well. I don’t have any more innocence with me. Sometimes when I forget the ‘virtues worthy of a wife’ and indulge myself in love with that somebody, to relieve me of the ‘unworthy wife’ feel, I just hug my hubby out of the blue and I guess he knows that too. But I can’t help it both ways.

Then there is this hug which I have treasured for my twin, which I will, when we meet. I am sure both of us will identify the love we have for each other in that hug. He is my solace, for a life time.

I have a dream, a fantasy.. as the song goes.. “to take me through reality..”

How I wish to embrace the man I am in love with, in my mind.. I had never had a chance so far. To press my face on his neck and feel his breath on mine... to rub cheeks with… to hold each other tight and feel the heartbeats... to move away a bit and look into his eyes… crossing the stream of life-s ahead.. to live our love in that single hug, knowing fully well that time is short and this may be the last... 

അവാച്യം

എന്നും സന്ധ്യാദീപം തെളിയിക്കാന്‍ പോലും എനിക്ക് മടിയാണ്. പ്രാര്‍ത്ഥന തീരെ ശീലമില്ല. പലപ്പോഴും 'ദൈവം' എന്നെ ആശയകുഴപ്പത്തില്‍ ആക്കുന്നു. തോന്നിയിട്ടുണ്ട് എനിക്ക് ചേരുന്നത് ഏകദൈവ സങ്കല്പം ആണെന്ന്. ഈ തോന്നല്‍ ശക്തമായപ്പോള്‍ ഇസ്ലാമിനോടും ഒരു കമ്പം തോന്നി. ഖുര്‍ആന്‍ വായിച്ചു നോക്കി. ആദ്യം ആ പുസ്തകം വെച്ച് കുറെ ഇരുന്നു..ഒന്നും മനസ്സിലാകുന്നില്ല. പിന്നീടാണ് പുറകു വശത്ത് നിന്നാണല്ലോ തുടങ്ങേണ്ടത് എന്ന ബോധം വന്നത്. അങ്ങനെ കുറെ ഒക്കെ വായിച്ചു. പക്ഷെ എനിക്ക് യോജിക്കാനായില്ല അതിനോട്.. നരകത്തില്‍ എതുമെന്നെ ഭയം എന്നെ ദൈവത്തോട് അടുപ്പികില്ല നിശ്ചയം. നരക വര്‍ണനകള്‍   എനിക്കിഷ്ടമായതുമില്ല. അങ്ങനെ  ഇസ്ലാം അല്ല എനിക്ക് ചേര്‍ന്നത്‌ എന്ന് ബോധ്യമായി. ക്രിസ്തു  മതത്തോടു തോന്നിയ അടുപ്പം പതിനഞ്ചാം വയസ്സില്‍ തന്നെ ഞാന്‍ വിശകലനം ചെയ്തതാണ്. പള്ളിയുടെയും പോപിന്റെയും അധീനതയില്‍ ജീവിക്കാന്‍ എനിക്കാവില്ല. എനിക്ക് വേണ്ടത് സ്വാതന്ത്ര്യം ആണ്.  അമ്പലങ്ങളില്‍ പല ദൈവങ്ങള്‍ എന്നെ കൂടുതല്‍ confused ആക്കുന്നു. ഒരാളിനോടു കാര്യം പറയുമ്പോള്‍ മറ്റുള്ളവരോട് പറയാന്‍ എനിക്കൊന്നും ബാക്കി ഇല്ല. പിന്നെ കാണിക്ക ഇടുന്ന രീതിയും എന്നില്‍ സങ്കോചം ജനിപ്പിക്കുന്നു, കാരണം നടയില്‍ നില്‍ക്കുമ്പോള്‍ തോന്നും ഈ പോറ്റിമാര്‍ പ്രതീക്ഷിക്കുന്നല്ലോ  ഞാന്‍ തട്ടത്തില്‍  ഇടുന്നത്..അത് മാത്രമല്ല കാണിക്ക വഞ്ചിയില്‍ ഇടാനുള്ള തുകയുടെ  കണക്കു കൂട്ടലും വരും മനസ്സില്‍    .. പിശുക്കി അല്ല ഞാന്‍ ഒട്ടും.. പക്ഷെ അങ്ങനെയും എനിക്ക് തോന്നാറുണ്ട്, സത്യം. ചുരുക്കത്തില്‍ പ്രാര്‍തിക്കാനുള്ള ശ്രദ്ധ കിട്ടില്ല ഇതിനിടയില്‍. ആല്‍വൃക്ഷത്തിനെ വലം വെയ്ക്കുമ്പോള്‍ ആണ് എനിക്കേറ്റവും മനസുഖം തോന്നാറ്. പ്രകൃതിയില്‍ ആണ് എനിക്ക് ഈശ്വര ചൈതന്യം അനുഭാവപെടാരു എപ്പോളും.

ഇങ്ങനെയൊക്കെ ആണെങ്കിലും വര്‍ഷത്തില്‍ ഒരിക്കല്‍ ഞാന്‍ മൂകാംബികയില്‍ പോകാറുണ്ട്. . എന്നെ അവിടെയ്ക്ക് കാന്തം എന്ന പോലെ പിടിച്ചു വലിയ്ക്കുന്ന ഒരു ശക്തി എനിക്ക് അനുഭവപ്പെടാറുണ്ട്. വിദ്യയുടെ ഉറവിടം എന്ന തോന്നലും. ഈ ദീപാവലിനാളില്‍ പുലര്‍ച്ചയ്ക്ക് മുമ്പേ യാത്ര ചെയ്യുമ്പോള്‍ മനസ്സിലും  തണുത്ത കാറ്റ് വീശി.   ഇടയ്ക്കിടെ ഉറങ്ങിയും ഉണര്‍ന്നും ഒരു അര്‍ദ്ധബോധാവസ്ഥയിലെ സുഖം ശാന്തി.. സുര്യന്‍ കിഴകിലൂടെ   എത്തിനോക്കി തുടങ്ങുമ്പോള്‍ മാനം തുടുത്തു, കാന്തനെ കണ്ട കാമിനിയെ പോലെ .. എന്തൊരു അഴകാണ് ആകാശത്തിനു അന്നേരം. അപ്പോള്‍ തോന്നി ആകാശത്തെവിടെയോ സങ്കല്പ്പിക്കാവുന്നതിലും വലുപ്പത്തില്‍  ഒരു സുന്ദരി കമിഴ്ന്നു കിടന്നു മാനത്ത്‌ ചിത്രം വരയ്ക്കുന്നുണ്ടാകും.. അതിനിടയില്‍ തെറിച്ചു വീഴുന്ന നിറകൂട്ടുകള്‍ അല്ലെ   ഈ മനോഹര വര്‍ണങ്ങള്‍ .. മഷി വീണ പോലെ ഉള്ള മേഘതുള്ളികള്‍. ആ മുനികുമാരിയെ  പോലെ വസ്ത്രം ധരിച്ച സുന്ദരിയെ അവളുടെ പ്രപഞ്ചം നിറഞ്ഞു കവിയുന്ന വലുപ്പത്തെ , അവള്‍ കമഴ്ന്നു കിടക്കുമ്പോള്‍ ഉയര്‍ത്തി വെച്ച കണംകാലിലെ നിറയെ മുത്ത്‌ പതിച്ച പാദസരം, അവളുടെ ചുവന്ന വിരല്‍തുംബുകളും പാദദ്വായങ്ങളും ഒക്കെ കണ്ടു കൊണ്ട് അവളുടെ ചിത്രകലാ  വിരുതും നോക്കിയിരുന്നു ഞാന്‍ പ്രപഞ്ചത്തിനും  അപ്പുറത്തേയ്ക്ക്    ഊളിയിട്ടിറങ്ങി. അവിടെ നിന്നും ഭൂമിയെ നോക്കി കണ്ടു.. ഞാന്‍ എന്ന കീടമാത്രയുള്ള ജന്മതെയും .. വീണ്ടും ഞാന്‍ ഉറങ്ങി.. ഉണരുമ്പോള്‍ വഴി നിറയെ ബന്ദിപൂക്കള്‍ കോര്‍ത്ത മാലകള്‍ വില്‍ക്കുന്നവര്‍. മഞ്ഞയും ഓറഞ്ചും നിറമുള്ള പൂക്കള്‍.

കുന്ദപുര്‍ ബൈനടുര്‍ ഹൈവേയില്‍ നിന്നും കൊല്ലുരിലേക്ക് തിരിയുമ്പോള്‍ എല്ലാ വര്‍ഷത്തെയും പോലെ എന്റെ ഹൃദയം തുടിച്ചു .. ആ പ്രത്യേക  താളം എന്നില്‍ നിറഞ്ഞു. ഈ പാതയിലൂടെ പോകുമ്പോള്‍ എനിക്ക് എന്നും തോന്നുക ഒന്ന് തന്നെയാണ്. ആ ശക്തിസ്വരൂപിണി ഈ പാതയുടെ അങ്ങേയറ്റത്ത്‌ മാനം മുട്ടും വിധത്തില്‍ നില്‍ക്കുന്നു.. ഈ പാത ഹൃദയത്തിലേക്ക് രക്ത നാഡികള്‍  എന്ന പോലെ എന്നെ ആ നെഞ്ചിലേക്ക് എത്തിക്കും ഉടനെ.. അവിടെ കൈ വിടര്‍ത്തി പുണരാന്‍ എന്ന പോലെ മൂകാംബിക. ആ അനുഭുതി നുകര്‍ന്ന് കൊണ്ട് ഞാന്‍ ഓടുന്ന പോലെ ... അമ്മയ്ക്കരികിലേക്ക് കുഞ്ഞെന്ന പോലെ ...

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From the archives – My writings to myself – about motherhood, wife-hood , in love, about marriage and more – I

Just discovered these and posting it on instinct

Joys of motherhood:

  

One Monday night , 11.30

Now I was laughing with my chottu for more than an hour. He s a real ‘cartoon’. Thank God, he seem to have the right amount of common sense mixed with the right proportion of humour sense. I tell him a lot of stories and after a while he starts acting out the main roles in the story. Today looked like his Krishna day, he is calling me 'Yasodha Amma' and is "stealing" butter (and even jam) from the fridge (modern Krishna) eating it and asking me to chase and catch him. Then he would drink milk from the cow(guess whom he makes his cow) and lots more of masthi. We were laughing so much in the bed and then Big Master would remind us about the time. I told him that we are ordinary humans who don't care to see the clock to laugh and cry. He got bugged and pretended to sleep. Then chottu started imitating how his daddy will snore and we started rolling in the bed covering our faces with pillows and laughing into it. Finally a big blast of laughter followed by comments from the father like "both amma and son had gone out of mind" etc. Finally chottu went to sleep and I woke up the father to tell him that I m going out to read. He just stretched his hand to hug me and I also waited for a while. Suddenly smally came crawling, pushed his father away, and told me that he will bite Achan, if he tries to touch me and we started our laughter again. Father was fed up with the entire session and decided to sleep again. Now that my monu dear has slept, I strolled out to scribble the fun. That was one of my happy times.

Another  Tuesday morning.

Small Boss refused to go to school and I also felt bad to sent him when I am available for him. We had a joyful time playing and story telling. I started telling him the childhood stories of 'Naren', Vivekananda and he is familiar now with the name.

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Infatuation

This afternoon, I was reading …. Narendranath Datha, the one and only Vivekananda, my admiration figure. How much I admire this man…. I had even prayed that I get a   son like Vivekananda. I had stayed in Hyderabad for 6 months, when my brother had an accident and he was hospitalized in NIMS, where there was a junior doctor. who looked so much like Vivekanada, who also carried a Bhagavat Gita in his coat pocket… I confess that I got so fascinated with this man(with whom I've never talked, and he might not have even noticed me, a girl of 21 at that time) that I used to wait for him to visit our room, had dreamt about him and even made silent phone calls to him to hear his voice.

Whispers in love

Let me tell you very honestly, given a chance I will definitely kiss your eyes and touch them softly so that I will remember them very well any time I want to. I love u because u look at me and look into my soul. Because you can make  me laugh even when u r not next to me. Because u are my Krishna.. …………            

Only if you can imagine the eternal, non ending, non failing and the purest love one can have towards Krishna, you can understand my love for u….


Loving in my each breath, that s what I m doing now my rascal. Have I ever loved any one so blindly, so meaningfully, so madly, so joyfully, so unconditionally, so childishly and yet so painfully? Positive, the earth is ours, the sky too….

(there is a Part II - dont want to tax the readers!)

Revelation

I am indeed a happy person, but I realize  I can be much more happier. The incompleteness I feel, the vacuum in my womanhood, should I take it for granted? Is it just for me or do all women feel this way?

This evening at the temple looking straight into Krishna’s eyes, it occurred to me. Where are you, who can make me complete, one with love , fun and desire. Krishna’s robe was tied to Radha’s standing next to him, yet away from him. My robe is looped somewhere, I do not know where.

 It is all about finding a part of me that’s somewhere. It is just the oneness I wish for. 

My Secret Orchard

I chuckle discreetly whenever they call me 'stone hearted', 'inhuman idol', 'unromantic', 'unfeminine' and the like. They do not know my secret orchard where I have planted my softer emotions and fantasies, to be nurtured and savored only by me. I believe that love ceases to be a pleasure when it ceases to be a secret. I am too unrealistic, wanting to relish every drop of my pleasure truly to myself. If I would attempt to rove in my orchard unfettered, well that  is what I am doing right now..

Romance is a state of mind, and I had felt romantic in the golden rays of the setting sun, which crept in through my window curtain; in the rain and breeze when I was standing on a hill temple with no roof to run for shelter, all these were in my teens. I had felt the same romance when I dreamt of the crowned Sun God driving a chariot, bright and shining. I also had a beautiful dream when I saw the  silvery full moon floating down above a lake, the reflection of the lake on the moon and a garland of jasmine  falling down and reaching just above my head and the then twenty year old me, jumping with stretched hands attempting to touch the flowers. I guess my finger tips slightly brushed on the cool petals, giving me the romance of a life time.  

It would be a deception if I wind up my romantic encounters with pointers to nature alone. The face is not clear in my mind yet, but I had been in love with this man whom I have never met, heard or known except in my mind. It is before him alone that I transform to a complete woman, wanting to be pampered and teased, at the same time. He would reach me to the height of anger and would hug me from behind when I turn away  in protest. I am sure I would slap him then. We would philosophize from our armchair, and sip an Irish Coffee. I would read a favourite work, listening to his plecktrum on the strings. I would pick a fight with him for no reason, would let the ego clash harder, hurt him, irritate him and be so unreasonable that he would swear and even raise his hand and punch on the wall behind me desperately and out of anger. He is the one for whom my ego will yield and a set of tears will roll down my cheeks whenever I give in after a fight. And I would mischeviously steal a puff from his burning fag, after we make love.

I am happy in my lovely orchard and would’nt let anyone enter!