Forsaken....

On a damp morning of May, the windows were closed..Everything was piled up and finally, the doors were shut...! The forlorn wind kept howling inside the deserted house, dying to come out..The staircases spoke of the thousand footprints that fell on them...The terrace kept mentioning of the happy times ... All she took were moments, and memories- that had taken shape, out of them..Memories, which would forcibly find their way back into her mind, in the years to come, irrespective of how much she tries to keep them out.. ! So much was forsaken that morning..! So much pain and agony, which even the rain that came after, couldn't wash away..So many memories which even the times to come, couldn't fade...On another such damp morning in May, almost 2 decades later, she was caught quite unawares when the wind howling outside her patio reminded her of all that she had forsaken...All that she has become in all these years couldn't overcome the guilt and the pain...The wind kept howling through the hollows of the branches, and so did the pain, inside the hollows of her heart...The rain kept thrashing against the glass as she kept watching with a vision hazed by her own tears, bewildered and dazed about how and why all those things she thought she had buried, stealthily crept back into her inner being...! 

Another rainy day...

I love when it rains...I don't know why, but it does make me want to go home to my parents...Maybe a damp, rainy day reminds me of those childhood days when we used to sit outside in the balcony and wait for baba to come home from work, and have our afternoon tea/snacks together...Maybe because, when it rained, Ma's garden turned greener, with occasional puddles here and there, which would be a hotspot to float some paper boats...

..I love when it rains...The ripples caused by the falling shower...The drops of rain creating an orchestrated music as it falls on the water, on the branches and the leaves....The pitter- patter on the asbestos roof or the tiles for a while, and then the collected rainwater guzzling out of the pipes ....The raindrops clinging on to the branches like pearls, just about to fall when ready with the perfect surface energy..A sudden zephyr touches my favorite wind chime, making it sing...An occasional bird alighting on the branches just when the sky bellows and the clouds roar ! The ducks swimming about wiggling their backs, taking in the beauty with style....A hot cup of tea and a good book while listening to your favorite music, in sync with the sound of the rain and the calls of the sky...And taking a break now and then to glance outside and admire the stunning beauty of nature....A rainy day is all you sometimes need to refresh and rejuvenate, just like nature does :) 

Memories in Music...

The leaves rustle in the branches outside the balcony, and in a moment, a sudden gust of cool breeze caresses her...She loves these sudden soothing moments, when the wind plans to change it's course and take the path facilitated by the cross ventilation in her house..She keeps turning the pages she had been turning for so many days, so many years....Her notebook - scribbled with notes, of music...Some in her own handwriting-although dating back to her teenage years, some in her music teacher's, and some in the handwriting of her beloved thamma ...She had touched those pages, and those writings in ink- and felt her always being present in her life, in all it's form and functions and  through  music.The leaves of her notebook have changed their colors with time, though not yet brittle ....The diary dates back to 1986..and it was around '87 when she started going to the neighbourhood music school, holding Ma's hands, timidly following each and everything " gaaner didimoni " told her to do...Thamma, whenever she was around, used to sit with her while she rehearshed with her newly bought harmonium in the evening, after coming back from school...Thamma would volunteer to copy down the lessons for the day from the notebook of her " gaaner didimoni " ( music teacher ) !

At that time, she never gave this strange feeling a thought...that one day, 25 yrs later, this notebook would still be with her, and she would guard it dearly, like some precious treasure.....One day, 25 yrs later, when thamma is no longer around, she will miss her but still feel her presence when she sings...

Today, while leaving through that same notebook, a smile crossed her lips, when her eyes caught the date on top of one of the pages, in Thamma's handwriting- 8/7/1988 - It was such a consuming moment for her, the sheer enormity of the feeling that passed - How could she have missed those dates on top of each day's lesson ? The humongous number of years that have gone by, as if in the batting of the eyelids, of the sudden emptiness of so many people not being around anymore...Of the  physical impression which a person leaves behind, things outlasting a person's physical presence in this earth - Thamma is no more, but she'll always be there for her-through her handwritten notes, notes that tell stories of love, blessings and a lot of other things called which comes with the relation called " Grandma " ~ ~