Mosquitoes moonlight in the night
Feasting on their elixir,night after night,
Aren’t we all nocturnals feasting voices


When the clock strikes inspiration

Lately,I’ve been toiling with ideas in my head to write something for the blog.

Thoughts were racing with the beats of my heart and I could do nothing but lie still.As I listened to the countless voices meandering inside the head,I almost had a gag reflex.  AAH!!.Sometimes the voices were so loud that I could hear them outside,like a pack of wolves howling together.The cacophony became so intense as if it would rip apart my brains and eat them raw all the while drinking my brain juices.The futile attempts to silence the noise went in vain.

I experimented with reading,music,talking and almost all the other things I do including popping a handful of pain killers which I always kept handy to soothe the nerves that were working over time in double shifts.

When the clock striked four on the dot I woke up from a half awake sleep and went out to the street looking for inspiration.My eyes scanned every detail that it could see.

I had a feeling that all the people were looking at me.I saw myself in their eyes.All of them were holding mirrors against me. Soon,I became the child clinging to his mother’s shoulder,the vagabond who was walking the road of uncertainty,the unemployed youth who always hurried and the blind man who made his moves by sensing the vibrations of the earth with a stick.I never felt so unreal and stagnant. It was like having a panic attack and a very bad episode of depression at the same time.I thought I was dying.I ran down my hand along the region of my chest to make sure that my heart was still there. Hurrying back to my desk I took a pen and started to recycle the same old thoughts.

The clock striked inspiration.

The Curator

It was a sunny April morning, the clouds were brighter than the spotlights that lit the grimace paintings kept on the corners of the museum.Her nose nuzzled to her bosoms hoping to escape the wind.In the futile attempt she collected some dust in her beautifully woven red dress and swiftly rushed to the musuem.

The musuem was dimly lit except near the exhibits which were weird expressions on all the despicable things one could imagine on a bad day.

Now she has to select and interpret these works by various artists both well known and unknown and rate them.Thoughts came from nowhere as she rested her heavy head on the desk unable to curate her weird thoughts just like the art works.

Children of our Fathers

We still live
on the brink of nothingness,

between the north and south of the seasons

We still sleep

on stone pillows,

like our fathers

We still follow the same clouds,

resting in the shadows of thorn trees

We still drink down our tea while swallowing fire

and we walk barefoot not to frighten the silence

And in the distance

at the edge of the mirage

we still watch, every evening the sun fall into the sea.


An old woman with a wrinkled face and a quirky smile camped near the shore is not something that catches the hold of your eyes every other Saturday. Awaiting the tides won’t bring anything new.  Selvi, a 72-year-old woman is an exception. An avid collector of sea shells Selvi sells it to the tourists who visits the beach. One can find her camped near the shore on a typical day in Tranquebar beach, Tamil Nadu.

1.What do you know about sea shells?

I don’t know much about the biology of sea shells but I’ve heard that it holds life inside it. When I listen closely to a shell I can feel the warmth of life that echoes in my ear.

2.Since when did you start collecting sea shells?

I’ve been travelling from beaches to rivers to collect shells ever since I was a little child, this is the only trade I know.

3.Anybody can collect sea shells. So what makes people come to you and buy from your collection?

My grandmother used to tell me that I had the blessing of ‘Kadalamma’ (referring to the sea). Kadalamma has miraculously saved me once in my life. When I was six years old, I was drowning and luckily got saved as I was not taken away by the sea. So she brings me the best shells in this vast sea.

4.How’s your typical day like?

I wake up every morning and collect the sea shells using my fish net and then go to sleep again. Later during the day, I sort and separate them. Tourists visiting Tranquebar beach will buy it from me.

5.Do you go for some other work apart from this?

No, my husband and two sons go to the sea for fishing. We are basically fisher folk and sea is a part of our life. The sea goddess (kadalamma) is the giver and destroyer of our lives.


With nothing to spare,

You robbed my life with your charm

From hair and  tooth,

To thoughts and ideas

The love of my life 

And the long lost memories

With nothing to spare you –

drained my life 

You are time still

Can’t hold on to yourself.