Life has hit a pause button
I know not where to go
I can’t turn back
To the life that was the past
wisps of memories reach out and
I watch them drift away…
I look ahead and see only a void
Nothing beckons
My hands reach out and touch emptiness
My feet are still yet restless
I hover in limboland
Friday, April 15, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
breakpoint
My heart had broken into small pieces
and now those pieces have broken into smaller pieces
Each time a piece breaks away
the shards lacerate my soul
I long for the elusive numbness of feeling
of release from feelings
and now those pieces have broken into smaller pieces
Each time a piece breaks away
the shards lacerate my soul
I long for the elusive numbness of feeling
of release from feelings
Tuesday, April 05, 2011
the six am adventure - catamaran ride
Sunny salutations on the sea
Every now and then, a surge of restlessness overcomes me; it’s rather unpredictable in frequency but the intensity follows the same trajectory. The build-up starts with a sense of ennui, setting off a simmering discontent until I just have to act fast and make a quick break for it or else let the volcano within explode.
One such time, along came an invitation to spend a weekend by the sea. We set off with unabashed alacrity and in a few hours we were at a fabulous resort just outside Chennai.
The simple act of kicking off your shoes and collapsing on a cushy mattress is enough to bring out one’s inner child. After the usual checking out the little luxe goodies in the bathroom, there was nothing to it but head down for a remarkable lunch replete with enormous seafood platters.
It was late evening by the time we made it to the beach. Kicking a ball around, building a sand castle – such are the simple acts that bind a family in fun and frolic. Not so far away, we espied little villages of fishing folk and a little while later, skipping along the foamy water edge, we fell into conversation with one of the villagers.
As we talked about fishing and boats, the tide and all that constitute a seaside life, he asked,” Do you people want to take a ride on a boat?”
“Sure, we would be thrilled”, we said.
“Well, are you up to something a little more daring?”
“Like what?”
“Like a catamaran ride”.
“What’s that?”
“It’s more fun than a boat”.
We made plans to meet the next morning at half past six.
The day dawned slightly dull; but Kannan, our fisherman friend, was waiting with a smile. “Where is the boat?” we asked.
“There”, he said, pointing to a few logs of wood.
We wondered if he was joking and when he insisted he wasn’t, wondered if he was sane.
“It’s perfectly safe, and here, you have to put these lifejackets on”, he said.
We belted up and then he told us our places on the raft, as that is all it was. We had to sit cross-legged and the line up was first me, then Aditya and behind us Allen, who looked extremely doubtful about his place. His arguments that he ought be in front as father/ protector ran off Kannan’s unheeding ears, who was suddenly all brisk action.
“Hold on to the rope and don’t let go. If you do, you’ll slide off the catamaran”
So there we were grimly holding on to the rope and nothing happened.
Kannan put a hand out to shush us, his eyes fixed firmly on the active waters.
“We have to wait until the waves lift the raft out, so stay seated and hold on tight”.
We waited and we waited, the wind whipped at our faces; the salty sting of the sea spray added to the tingle of tension and anticipation. A couple of times, as we found holding on to the rope painfully tough, we were almost tempted to call it off but we held on, grittily encouraging each other.
And along came a big one and off we went. A funny whoosh filled our stomach, it was like being airborne but of course in reality we were not; the catamaran surged ahead as we held our breath.
Almost imperceptibly, the rhythm changed and we seemed to be gliding along. The ride was so smooth, it was almost as if were still. As the little craft moved away from the shore, it was caught up in the gentle sway of the Bay of Bengal and we were in thrall of the incredible contrast it makes to the choppy excitement of the start of the ride.
As we exclaimed about the smoothness, Kannan got into romantic overdrive. “Let go of the rope”, he urged me. “Come here”, he said, tugging me to stand at the head of the raft. He set me standing and then beckoned Allen forward. Before we knew, the funny man had us in a pose a la Titanic! We played along and I must confess, I found Kannan’s gesture extremely cute.
Soon we reached a spot where he adjudged we could stop. “Jump off”, he said and followed his own advice. As we gawked at him, he had already got Aditya in the water and as I wondered how deep was the floor of the sea, Kannan hollered “It does not matter; the water here is silky, enjoy the swim. If you get tired, you have got your life jacket on, just lie on your back and float”.
So there we were, fooling around in the sea and after we tired of chasing each other around the catamaran, we flopped around and lay back, holding hands.
That’s when the sun broke through the light cloud cover. It was as if it had hid behind a curtain all along and now, wanted to come out and play with us. The light orange orb was a charming smile, lighting up the endless horizon; a happy day in harmony with the elements.
Catamaran is derived from the Tamil word “ kattu maran” which simply means wood that has been tied together, i.e., a raft.
The catamaran is a traditional fishing craft and is made of sturdy Alposia wood from Kerala. While fisherfolk have taken to motorized boats for their livelihood, they also use the catamarans and in the left couple of decades, they have been game to taking along the adrenaline-junkie tourists. It’s a low risk activity and don’t expect the same feeling as riding the rapids.
It is exhilarating to ride the waves and gives you a great high when you master your natural fear and enjoy a communion with nature.
Every now and then, a surge of restlessness overcomes me; it’s rather unpredictable in frequency but the intensity follows the same trajectory. The build-up starts with a sense of ennui, setting off a simmering discontent until I just have to act fast and make a quick break for it or else let the volcano within explode.
One such time, along came an invitation to spend a weekend by the sea. We set off with unabashed alacrity and in a few hours we were at a fabulous resort just outside Chennai.
The simple act of kicking off your shoes and collapsing on a cushy mattress is enough to bring out one’s inner child. After the usual checking out the little luxe goodies in the bathroom, there was nothing to it but head down for a remarkable lunch replete with enormous seafood platters.
It was late evening by the time we made it to the beach. Kicking a ball around, building a sand castle – such are the simple acts that bind a family in fun and frolic. Not so far away, we espied little villages of fishing folk and a little while later, skipping along the foamy water edge, we fell into conversation with one of the villagers.
As we talked about fishing and boats, the tide and all that constitute a seaside life, he asked,” Do you people want to take a ride on a boat?”
“Sure, we would be thrilled”, we said.
“Well, are you up to something a little more daring?”
“Like what?”
“Like a catamaran ride”.
“What’s that?”
“It’s more fun than a boat”.
We made plans to meet the next morning at half past six.
The day dawned slightly dull; but Kannan, our fisherman friend, was waiting with a smile. “Where is the boat?” we asked.
“There”, he said, pointing to a few logs of wood.
We wondered if he was joking and when he insisted he wasn’t, wondered if he was sane.
“It’s perfectly safe, and here, you have to put these lifejackets on”, he said.
We belted up and then he told us our places on the raft, as that is all it was. We had to sit cross-legged and the line up was first me, then Aditya and behind us Allen, who looked extremely doubtful about his place. His arguments that he ought be in front as father/ protector ran off Kannan’s unheeding ears, who was suddenly all brisk action.
“Hold on to the rope and don’t let go. If you do, you’ll slide off the catamaran”
So there we were grimly holding on to the rope and nothing happened.
Kannan put a hand out to shush us, his eyes fixed firmly on the active waters.
“We have to wait until the waves lift the raft out, so stay seated and hold on tight”.
We waited and we waited, the wind whipped at our faces; the salty sting of the sea spray added to the tingle of tension and anticipation. A couple of times, as we found holding on to the rope painfully tough, we were almost tempted to call it off but we held on, grittily encouraging each other.
And along came a big one and off we went. A funny whoosh filled our stomach, it was like being airborne but of course in reality we were not; the catamaran surged ahead as we held our breath.
Almost imperceptibly, the rhythm changed and we seemed to be gliding along. The ride was so smooth, it was almost as if were still. As the little craft moved away from the shore, it was caught up in the gentle sway of the Bay of Bengal and we were in thrall of the incredible contrast it makes to the choppy excitement of the start of the ride.
As we exclaimed about the smoothness, Kannan got into romantic overdrive. “Let go of the rope”, he urged me. “Come here”, he said, tugging me to stand at the head of the raft. He set me standing and then beckoned Allen forward. Before we knew, the funny man had us in a pose a la Titanic! We played along and I must confess, I found Kannan’s gesture extremely cute.
Soon we reached a spot where he adjudged we could stop. “Jump off”, he said and followed his own advice. As we gawked at him, he had already got Aditya in the water and as I wondered how deep was the floor of the sea, Kannan hollered “It does not matter; the water here is silky, enjoy the swim. If you get tired, you have got your life jacket on, just lie on your back and float”.
So there we were, fooling around in the sea and after we tired of chasing each other around the catamaran, we flopped around and lay back, holding hands.
That’s when the sun broke through the light cloud cover. It was as if it had hid behind a curtain all along and now, wanted to come out and play with us. The light orange orb was a charming smile, lighting up the endless horizon; a happy day in harmony with the elements.
Catamaran is derived from the Tamil word “ kattu maran” which simply means wood that has been tied together, i.e., a raft.
The catamaran is a traditional fishing craft and is made of sturdy Alposia wood from Kerala. While fisherfolk have taken to motorized boats for their livelihood, they also use the catamarans and in the left couple of decades, they have been game to taking along the adrenaline-junkie tourists. It’s a low risk activity and don’t expect the same feeling as riding the rapids.
It is exhilarating to ride the waves and gives you a great high when you master your natural fear and enjoy a communion with nature.
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