Okay – so one of the best getaway places in everyone’s bucket list, Kerala is going through the worst of its times now. Hundreds lost their lives, lakhs lost their homes and the hard-earned savings of a lifetime. But yes, we never did and never will give up. It doesn’t matter if we live in Kerala, or for that matter, in India or not. We will stand up during times of need and fight for our brothers. This is exactly what we demonstrated in a span of just 5 days. Trust me, we come from a land which has seen a lot of rains, and I genuinely feel that, even though we suffered a lot, we managed to scrape through much better than probably how other places would have. We did manage to fight death back with minimal national media coverage and with all the dirty politics that hovered on. Yes, we are very thankful to a lot of our Non-Malayalee friends who came forward for helping us out. This short stretch of time witnessed lakhs of people uniting together to help the state in whatever little way that they can and today, as we look back through the fire, or rather water,😉 that we came through, I am proud to say that I come from Kerala, a place, where we do not discriminate people on the basis of religion, festivals, or even the food we eat. The door of every religious institution was open for the needy. It is definitely God’s own country, where we actually saw the hands of God in every common man, be it from a fisherman to a techie. We promise you we’ll be back with a bang and this will remain as your favourite holiday destination forever!!!
A big shout out to everyone who stood by us understanding our dire needs!! We love you with all our open hearts!! ❤️ ❤️
My first enemy. The one who pulled my hair and as defence, I dug my teeth into. The one who influenced me most often by defining himself as not being me. Probably the only one towards whom my resentment and fist fights reduced over the number of years. The one who unknowingly taught me that love and affection exists amidst all the differences. Childhood was a constant power struggle to seek the maximal attention. Little did I know that home is never fun if he is not there to snatch it away from me. We have always been the definition of opposite – I am loud, he is quiet. I’m social, he is private. We never were best friends and have always been different from each other to be super close. But no matter what, I know that he will always have my back. The considerable age difference that we have never quantified the fights we had. But even at the age of 12, he gave me paternal and protective vibes. Over the period of years, I realised that he is my confidante and he became the first person to whom I rush to when I am clueless. He is my longest lifelong memory bank, my shared history, the person who knows me better than anyone else. He is such a deep part of my identity that he cannot be erased, even by his absence. This is the perfect love hate relationship that I’ve ever had. Happy birthday Manu!!
I long for days like these. Days of unconventional living. Wake up to the rich aroma of coffee and old books after the late night Netflix marathons. Eat pizza and ice-cream for breakfast. Listen to the songs humming on the radio. Breathe in the fragrance of the garden. Take hot bubble baths. Wear oversized shirts. Savour the comfort in hot soup. Seek art. Write letters. Feel poetry. Lose myself somewhere between sunrise and sunset. Grab a bottle of wine, climb on the roof and catch the stars. Drunk dance at midnight. Talk all night and sleep under the velvety sky. I long to be a wildflower and soak in the days of adventure and magic. I don’t want to feel the hurt. I want everything to feel right and happy. In a city that feels love like none other.
Let’s talk about love, shall we? Love is in the small and big things of life. It is the compassion with which a mother spends sleepless nights taking care of the child. It is the comfortable silence you share with the folks. It is the effort with which you break the quiet after a fight. It is opening up the wall you’ve built and freeing yourself from pain. It is the meal you buy for a less fortunate soul. It is the last scoop of ice cream that you are willing to give up for the other. It is about fulfilling midnight cravings. It is the peck on the cheek after a long day at work. It is cooking your unfavourite dinner just because the other favours it. It is about accepting wrinkles, stretch marks and grey hair. Love is the choice you make every single day. It is not always merry, bright and euphoric. Love is imperfect and messy, but still you choose not to give up. Love is discovering more of each other every day. It is about accepting flaws and staying placid. Love is the raging fire that flutters in you during the moment of a day. Gradually, it becomes the steady burning ember that lights your life. Love is a beautiful paradox. It is graceful and wild. Love can rip you apart and put the pieces in you together. It is painful and healing. It makes you resilient and vulnerable. It is kind and tender. Love is growth. It instils better versions of you. Love, first the self and second the other. Remember, all you need is love. And yet it is never enough.
The war raged in her head,
The one for love,
Which ebbed and flowed.
The scars of imperfection shined brilliantly,
Drowning her in relentless melancholy,
“Flow” , she breathed to herself,
She embarked on the quest for light,
To the land far beyond.
Some days, she loathed silence. It echoed pain, the resonance of the broken heart. Time stood still, and the world around her went numb. Years of thoughts cornered the bits of her soul and all she wanted was to scream out aloud and seek help. Her world was on an uproar and she needed her thoughts to be heard, her soul to be felt. She longed to know nothing, by letting go of everything. Silence, she realised, was not for the faint-hearted. In the stillness of the shadows, love broke in through the clouds and cast its way into the quintessence of calm.
Once upon a time, there was a little girl who fantasised herself to be Cindrella, longed to be friends with Snow White and the dwarves, and craved to be the Gretel to a brother like Hansel. Pink was her obsession and tulle and tiaras made her a princess.
However, one day, the little one was cursed by a witch to grow up in the world of torment and misery, and her dreams about living in the castle along with her favourite dolls, awaiting her Prince Charming went in vain. Blackened were her visions and decayed were her dreams. Happiness was replaced with sustenance and love was overthrown by hate. The witch, the cruel stepmother and the demon in the stories entered her life.
She lost count of time and grew up to be a young maiden with a doleful and sullen face. One day, she met a sorcerer who had magic in his eyes. They fell in love with each other and he freed her from the witch’s spell. As she walked down the streets, she sees a parade which had ostentatious and outlandish accessories befitting as Princess merchandise. It brought her back to warm childhood obsessions. She rummaged through the heap, found her crown and cape, handpicked a magnificent frock for herself and adorned into the most beautiful lady the town had ever seen.
She was known from then as the Disney Princess with her beaded, rhinestone-studded mermaid ballgown, and together, with the sorcerer and her plush dolls, lived her life happily ever after.