Malaysia's Not Too Bad Actually....

My Appa...

As a kid, I lived in a close knit community where every household knew each member of the other by name. Men and women grew old watching their own kids or that of their neighbours marry, have kids, and even grandchildren of their own. They would then die, and their children would take over the home, responsibilities and yeah sometimes even jobs that their fathers or mothers held. Now, you must understand one thing here. Mine was not a community where variations in professions existed. If monotony of profession ever existed anywhere, it was at the place where I grew up. All men ( and some women too, for they believed in joint income even then) worked in the garbage collection industry - my dad included. Of course there were different levels of positions just like any other organisation - some were drivers of garbage trucks and those who never got round to getting their driving licenses ended up as manual workers.

Just the other day, a colleague sitting in my car as I drove her to lunch complained (as we passed by a garbage truck) of the stench garbage trucks leave behind when they do their rounds. I still remember running up to my father (when I was no more than 6 or 7) as he would come back from his work . I don't remember having ever smelled anything stench-like on him - the man must have sat for hours at end in a garbage truck much like the one my colleague complained about.

Probably I was so overcome by my love for him that I could not (even if I tried) see or smell anything unpleasant on him. Come to think of it, I must have silently admired the man even from those days when I hardly knew what admiration really meant. This I say because I can still recollect how I would anxiously wait for him to shower, and sit right opposite him on the cool cement floor of our old house, within arm's length and watch adoringly as he ate - each handful of food that went into his mouth, the way he deboned his fish, how he he would pour fiery-coloured fish curry onto the rice and the beautiful (absolutely beautiful) way he would mix both thoroughly without creating any unsightly mess (like some people who eat with their hands do). And when he ate, he ate with such peace and joy that spoke well for the hard earned money that helped put his food on his plate. He was "the man" of my life then....probably he was much more than that..perhaps he was to me this superhero or god who put up with all my silliness and weird questions and still loved me to no end.

Yeah, my dad was a beautiful man with many beautiful ways and mannerisms. He had a fiery temper no doubt (sometimes) and I can still remember the sting I felt on my skin when he slapped my face when I was a little girl (the only time he ever hit me). And yes, he had absolutely no regard for liars or hypocrites and would openly reprimand them and put them to shame. True, my father was no Mr. Popularity among hypocrites. But he was the most sincere, disciplined man I have ever met.

Today, or the first time in 7 years since he passed on, I am missing him terribly....My heart feels heavy, and tears are fighting against the controls of dignity to push themselves through. I cannot explain why.

Appa, I wish the world had more men like you...and wherever you are now, please know that a part of you is always in me though I have never really openly addressed it till now. I cannot ask for the mundane wish most women make, that their loved ones who had passed on get reborn through their own wombs. Perhaps the word mundane is unfair - let's just say it's another way of me addressing my incapability - not in a bitter way but in a less dramatic manner. I may never have the opportunity to pay you back for what you gave me Appa...but please know that my love for you is there within me...deeply embedded where noone else can see it or attempt to replace it in the guise of love...

Exhale...

Everyone falls, in love sometimes
Sometimes it's wrong, and sometimes it's right
For every win, someone must fail
But there comes a point when...
When we exhale, yeah yeah

Say, shoop, shoop, shoop...
All you gotta do is say shoop, shoop, shoop...
My Lord now, shoop, shoop...

Sometimes you laugh, sometimes you cry
Life never tells us, the whens and whys
When you've got friends, to wish you well
You'll find a point when, you will exhale

Yeah, yeah
Say, shoop, shoop, shoop..
Say shoobedoo...

Oh, hearts are often broken
When there are words unspoken
In your soul there's, answers to your prayers
If you're searching for, a place you know
A familiar face, somewhere to go
You should look inside your soul
And you're half way there

I say shoop, shoop...
Feels all right, you can say shoop...

Truly Inspirational. Totally lifts you up to rise above it all...

A Quote To Live Our Lives By...

"People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the huge waves of the seas, at the long course of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and yet they pass by themselves without wondering."

St. Augustine,
Early Christian Priest, Author

Help Me Fly Away...

I wish to disappear
to a faraway island
where everyone I meet
knows me not and sees me not.

I wish to capture them
in thoughts and images
while they carry on
unaffected by me and without affecting me.

I wish to love them
in my heart and soul
while they love among themselves
and loves not the 'me' they don't even see.

I wish to live among them
In the truest form that I can ever be
while they walk on with their lives
totally comfortable with the sides of me they do not see.

And when the time comes...

I wish to die amidst them
unseen and unknown
and only too naturally
unloved and untouched.
Sparing myself of the miseries of a commoner's life
which thrives on binding me within a system
belittling me into submission
using as a reason this human form that I am in.

O God of All Gods...

Help me fly away to that faraway land
The whereabouts of which
Only one as invisible as You
will know the way to...

Playing the Game of Life...

One step at a time I took,
In this hopscotch of a life,
that I started playing some time ago.
A shaky manipulation of one foot,
A careful balance of the other,
Both I managed cleverly,
So as not to fall and give the game away.
So as to reach the end and declare myself the winner.

But little did I know then as I know now,
that a game it is after all,
and like games will, and must be,
life too must be played with the right mix,
of shaky manipulation,and careful balance.
Till we reach the end to discover,
that the trick of the game is not to not fall,
But to merely learn to balance the probabilities,
And manipulate the improbabilities.

Spare Me Please...O Powerful One...

We sometimes live in a daze,
Gazing at vague visions of love and life,
Believing them to be the only thing that's real,
Forgetting all else that had (in fractions) made us what we were.

True, isn't it?
Insanity hits even the sanest of us all,
And when it comes,
it comes not alone,
it comes not in its original guise.

If only we knew,
Insanity is what it is,
As it comes enticing us into its arms.
Would we then have given ourselves to it blindly?

I bow to you in awed obeisance, O Insanity,
How powerful you must really be,
To have all of me choking in your hands,
Even without the slightest tightening of your grip.

Indeed, you are the greatest god of all gods,
I will now learn to appease,
Just so that in all compassion,
You will spare me ...
(for as long as I move about in this world as this physical being that I am now)

...of even the glimpse of your existence.

As I Am Meant To Be...

Noone would see me here,
Noone would judge or be judged here.

Here - I am my own world
Here - I am my own hell,
Here - I alone will hurt and be hurt.

Finally -
I am as I am meant to be.

One Straight Path...

When you cry,
And minutes later lie alone,
Your hand wiping your own tears.
Know then,
That you had just hit upon,
The grim truth of what life is.

Realise then,
That as you came alone,
so shall you go alone.
And that,
Relief does lie in-between,
For everyone else -
but the likes of you.

Know then -
That you are among the "blessed" ones.
For whom HE gives it " real easy".
(No fuss. No frills. No surprises. No novelties)

For the likes of you HE sets,
One straight path.
That's as predictable as it is monotonous,
That too -
From birth till death.

Bangalore A.R. Ramani Ammal - A Legend In Her Own Right

A slip of my hand while driving and I ended up playing a CD I have not heard for a long time. Bangalore Ramani Ammal. I was said to have sung her songs when I was about 3 or 4, when I could hardly speak well. I suppose she must have had quite an impact on me then - at that age when vibes are at their strongest and are accepted wholeheartedly without interference of the ever analytical human mind.

Even till today, the woman's songs send an unexplainable sensation into my being (and no, I don't go into a trance as a result, just in case anyone is wondering :) ). She had this amazing voice - almost genderless I would say (not that I know what I mean exactly by that) and had the facial expression of a no-nonsense saree-clad headmistress.

(To slightly sidetrack, let me tell you that the "saree-clad" bit is necessary seeing where I come from - here in Malaysia, saree-clad teachers or headmistresses are always a sight to behold...most (being Chinese or Malays) would be in a dress or the "malay baju kurung/kebaya". In fact, teachers teaching in non-Thamizh schools hardly ever use saree to work these days. But when I was a kid, an indian teacher almost always wore a saree...complete with their bare midriff inviting the constant popping-out of eyes of the non-Indian students. Of course after a while, the Chinese and Malay students became used to the bare flesh and made less fuss...)

The one in the video was the older Ramani Ammal, I presume...she seemed to have lost some weight compared to the plump, glowing Ramani Ammal I knew (not in person of course) when I was a little kid.

All said and done, what an amazing singer she was. Classic to the core, and almost irreplaceable I must say.

A Hint Would Suffice You Know...

If You're out there listening to me,
Pray tell me which part of my misery excites You?

So I ignore You sometimes - so what?
That gives You the excuse to ignore me too?
So who is the wiser of us two - I wonder?
I am stupid and I make mistakes.
And You - the wise one - let me?
I fall, You laugh and then You help me up.
And when I am not watching,
You push me again?

Some Father You are...

Whatever happened to unconditional love, I wonder?
I love you, don't I, despite my tantrums?
I greet you every morning from my car, don't I?
That ain't enough for You?
So what is it that You really want from me?
Me all prostrated in front of You?

Do You not know that deep inside me,
I never rose from the last time I fell at Your feet...
Do You not know,
That it is in Your hands alone I believe my life to be...

How then can You watch me suffer thus?
How then can You let me fall yet again and again..
and not do anything about it?
A hint would suffice You know...

...could You not spare me even that?

A Game Piece in HIS Hands...

I could use a dose of wisdom now :)

It's that time of my life again (happens quite consistently I must admit) when I take a good look at myself and say, "hey, I don't know you anymore." Looking back at the way I had been behaving lately, I realise that I am losing track of the path I started heading towards some years back.

Distractions? I wouldn't exactly call them that. For one, I am a person who believes that every single incident in life is for some good - eventually. So nahhh...they can't possibly be distractions. Lessons perhaps? I know for a fact that the man above does have a tendency to send them in all shapes and sizes into my life. They'd come splashing into my life drowning me in ecstasy which often blinds me in the process of the reality of their identities. And while HE snugly sits up there watching me with a mocking smile, I would sheepishly fall for the "let's trick her first and teach her later" plan of HIS. Like a perfect fool that I can sometimes be, I would believe HIM, then question HIM, and then believe HIM while not wanting to, and eventually present myself as yet another win in HIS bet of my life.

Sighhhhh. Does HE not have anything better to do, I wonder?

Of course there are times when I am smarter than HE is. :) Times when I quickly pick up the signs of one of HIS games coming up, and stop myself from being dragged into it as a game piece - times when I pull myself back from the temptations with a quick slap in the face . Yeah I do that, literally. Watch me when I drive and you'd be surprised at how many times I do that :) Of course, since it's my own cheek I slap, I do go gentle on them. Not painless-kinda-gentle. But gentle nevertheless :)

But I have not been slapping myself much these days. And that's HIS victory, I suppose.

But I'll have my day soon, my good man...did YOU think that I'd fall every time? Give me more credit than that, will YOU? Did YOU not think that I'd probably have at least one percent of YOUR quick-wittedness? Can a child not have a part of the one who made her?

I'll get YOU some day...YOU can bet my life on it :)

Who Is There?

Someone knocked at the door of the Beloved and a voice from within inquired: "Who is there?" He answered, "It is I." And the voice said, "This house will not hold me and thee." So the door remained closed.

Then the lover sped away into the wilderness and fasted and prayed. After a year he returned and knocked again at the door and the voice again demanded: "Who is there?" And the lover said, "It is thou."

The door was opened.

Jalal ad-Din Rumi

The Little Girl God...

There's God in all of us, I used to think.
Not for a moment realising,
How cynical a statement that was.

That was till I saw,
God hopping before me in shining innocence one hot afternoon.
With an upturned silver plate shielding her head.
And infectious joy dancing in her eyes.

Yes, a girl god she was.
Common in your country, you say?
Should I add then,
That she looked pretty poor too.
And of course,
perfectly grubby as well, without a single doubt.
And if she weren't a god despite all those add-ons,
Then I dare say,
No god except that which appears bare in your country,
can rightly be god from now on.

Ah bliss she seemed to carry in her heart - this little girl god,
And the cheeky innocence with which she looked at people,
As she went about hopping -
Onto the steps,
Into the hearts,
Of those who cared enough to smile at her.
(not that many did)

But did the little girl god care?
No sir.
In the wisdom that's known to belong to gods alone (size notwithstanding),
She pranced away in a mocking smile,
At the people gathered there,
climbing the steps in religious fervour,
People who believed in their belief of god,
And that there was god in them.

Keep climbing, losers - her smile said
Keep climbing to that peak of falsehood,
you believe to be faith.
But mark my words, you aimless climbers.
Till the day you stop to look -
at the little gods who pass your lives,
Till then -
Neither will you be in me.
Nor me in you.

The Madman Speaks...

I bequeathe myself to the dirt, to grow from the grass I love;
If you want me again, look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am, or what I mean;
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged;
Missing me one place, search another;
I stop somewhere, waiting for you.

Walt Whitman