Born again...

I was pretty young when I began this particular journey. Almost underage, for something like this. I remember almost all incidents that pushed my life in a particular direction. But this one I can never recall.

But it is this that made me write, write truly and passionately. It is this that made my life living. It is this that burned as the fire in my soul. A simple philosophy, an ideal, not entirely mine. Borrowed, a bit from Bharathiyar, a bit from Guna, a bit from here and a bit from there. But it has now become mine.

It was not easy following this path. I have never got a word of encouragement - for everything else that I tried, I have received some encouragement, but for this, there has been nothing but dissent. Friends, foes, relatives, everybody. Even from those who were once the idols in this journey.

To love a woman, to love and worship Her. To hold Her as the living Goddess, the muse who will grant the boon of immortality. To find one, who shall fulfill the prophecy in the words 'kAthal manaiviyE sakthi kaNdIr kadavuL nilai avaLal eythal vENdum'.

It seemed a simple quest - most of my close friends corroborated it. Women after all want to be a muse, want to belong to a man who has passion. But then it wasn't that easy.

My wrong decisions, failures, disappointments were many, I will say unashamedly. I've made decision that were blatantly wrong. There were some that seemed like the morning sunshine before they turned dismal. Rudeness, indifference, warm and sad denials, heartless desertions...all of it. Of course it is not like I'm some honourable martyr either. I too have for my share played with hearts, been wicked, stony. After all its a full circle.

And every time I was broken and beaten, I heard the same ideas. "Why do you keep getting hurt?" "No woman is worth so much." "Your parents will find you a nice pretty girl anyways." "Maybe you are not cut out for it..." Sometimes sympathetic, sometimes indignant, sometime angry, sometimes sinister. I never could answer any of them. I listened as if I agreed and in a few months, it was the same old story again.

And then, one day, I had to travel, to Hyderabad, a pilgrimage. Even on the eve of that day, I heard the same old lines. "You should stay away from women, you tend to get hurt invariably. I'm telling you its nothing very great...in a woman." But I walked on.

And I never looked back. Today I can stand here, from this blog and say to each one of my friends, who with whatever intentions dissuaded me and to the few who are still skeptical - "I believed and was rewarded. and I shall be rewarded even more." Even as the bhattar's words were made true by Abhirami the night She threw Her ear-ring into the skies, my own faith shines true as the full moon on a new moon night. Defying logic and convention. Even as the rules were bent that day because of Her infinite love, so they are bent today.

For what I hold in my heart today is not a precious gem, but a pure and simple drop of the rain, the smell of the fresh earth, the life of the wild breeze, the light of a brazen sun. A single drop of life, fashioned by chance, crafted by time into a fire that burns in me, keeping me alive. What I hold in my heart today is not the stony, stiff, fixed idols that now lie broken in their false temples, but the Goddess of dust and sand and rain and life. A true Goddess, who does not sit in Her high throne, but instead dances and plays and sings and frolics. A Goddess who has no false bearing or grace but laughs at Her own faults and creates a new world of shimmering joy everyday.

Now I bow to you, my Goddess, my love. I offer to you all my thoughts, my heart, my life, my soul and blood in a single kiss that shall stretch from the beginning of time to eternity. I offer to you all that I have in this single simple kiss that is pure as a dew and is filled with nothing but the sunshine of your love. I seek no more knowledge, no more wisdom. I do not seek words or art or the ways of the wise. I seek no more absolution, no teacher, no path, no truth. For I have gained you now and here...and I shall gain you with every living moment of mine.

Life

Tiny plant in pot
Has two new yellow flowers
And dead leaves below.

P.S. First post from Hyderabad! :)

Varali

Dark convoluted locks reaching out like night's fingers. That is how she first appears. Utterly dark, dark like the shadow of a moonless night. Only hair, copious waves of it. They screech against the void like dark nails against a darker board. At the same time, the cascade of locks echoes the melody of a violent sea...noiselessly.

And then, a gentle hum, a drone of the bee - the kind of bee that occupied the imagination of Appar[1] and the Lord Sundareshwarar Himself [2]. A gentle hum, of a bee that is seeking the honey.

And then in a flash, the locks fall back and her face breaks out like a thousand suns. Its the face of a queen, a regal face with a royal nose. Her smile is like twin serpents - coiled in mercy and contempt at the same time. The forehead bears a mark, a dark crimson circle. It’s a spiral, the dark locks, then the refulgent face and then the dark kungumam. She mesmerizes, not by her living features but by the dead signs.

The hum again. Here the bee is a queen drinking from the divine lotus; there a dancer giving life to an imaginary bee with her hands and eyes. The hum dances wildly, one feet grounded in reality, the other raised to illusion. And yet, the grounded feet seem to hover and the raised feet firmly ensconced in the sky.

The lips now come to the center stage. They shine in the hypnotizing red of a bride's hand with too much marudhAni. Look now, they are repulsive, repulsive because of the desire that is worn ostentatiously. Now shut and open your eyes, they draw you, with their regal command to do their bidding.

The bee rises now, the queen bee. The queen of the honey bees, the dark ill-tempered blackbee. Say it now, slowly, roll your tongue over the words - karuvaNdu, ka-ru-vaNdu, an involuntary quiver just as you say vaNdu. That is how the queen rises, from the eyes of the brilliant face with a quiver when you least expect it.

She flutters near the eyelashes, takes a fancy to the dark locks and merges with them before being enticed by the dark lips. There is a quiver again, this time the quiver of desire, a tremble as the blood rushes through her body. In one flutter, before you could blink your eyes, she lands on the lip.

Then there is a gentle sigh, a sigh of relief, of satisfaction. And then, after she has been satiated, she unfurls her thin proboscis to drink the nectar. The queen bee drinking nectar from the lips of the queen... reality filling its void with illusion.

She can be seen here.

(Corrected after Viji's comment)

She can be seen here.

[1] - mAsil vInaiyum mAlai mathiyamum/vIsu thenRalum vInggiLavEnilum/mUsu vaNdaRaip poigaiyum pOnRathE/Isan enththai iNaiyadi nizalE - Appar's thEvAram
[2] - konggu thEr vAzkkai anciRaith thumbi - 1st song in kuRunthogai written by iRaiyanAr or God Himself.

P.S. I couldn't find a picture to go with this post...maybe I can get a sketch done someday, of a dark bee sitting on a darker lip.

Ever seen a prettier sight?

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இது ஒரு புது விடியல்!

A tamil BLOG upon Parvati's suggestion! Please update your links and give some publicity! :-)

கல்லொன்று தடுத்து காரிகையின் சாபம் கொன்று
வில்லொன்று ஒடித்து வைதேகி காதல்கரம் வென்று - மீட்டும்
வில்லொன்று ஒடித்து வன்முனிவன் தவம் வென்று - தந்தை
சொல்லொன்று எடுத்து சுடுகொடுங்காடு சென்றானே கதிநமக்குு

ஒன்றே சொல்லாகும் ஓடிவல்லவன் உயிர்குடிக்கும் அம்பும்
ஒன்றே வாசமலர் கொண்ட மார்பில் தான்கொண்ட அன்பும்
ஒன்றே அவன் பெயர் ஒன்றே அது இராம இராம இராம
என்றே சொன்னால் எழுபிறப்பும் அன்றே அற்றதே

Spiral

Gentle night comes in
Songs awaken from my desk
I write some silence

And then...

Morning walks through doors
Shadows sleep shrouded in light
My pen smiles dryly

And then...

Gentle night comes in
Songs awaken from my desk
I write some silence...