Popcorn memories ...

A lazy afternoon was rolling up reluctantly into a warm & dusty evening. The sun sieved a delicate pattern of shadows through an Ashok tree canopy in the backyard under which Mangali & Budhwa had locked their horns in a friendly bout to shake off some ennui. In the front yard, a grumpy granny was losing her cool over a bunch of kids, still lost in their dreams.

Get up! She called out to them, but the little brats held on to their sleep steadfastly. ‘Are you going to get up or not?’, she hollered, but in vain. Finally, a splash of icy water on their faces got them to get up and sprint out for cover.

It was time to drag out the belaboured, carbon-clad earthen pot to the front yard and prepare the clay fireplace. With inherited skill and guard, she lit the fire in no time and the coveted pot was placed on top of it even as a pair of naked feet rushed to the storeroom to fetch the prized sack of golden corn kernels. Her age belied her agility.

The other children hunkered around the fire, watching their humped magician keenly. They couldn’t wait to catch the first explosion and inhale the warm aroma of the popcorn. Everyone was at their best behaviour now in the hope of getting a bigger share. The corn bits were passed along with great care to granny. She poured in a dry mix of black salt and sand and began to wait for the sand to heat up a bit. In between, she brushed it swiftly from side to side with the backside of a coconut broom. 

‘Why do you mix salt in the sand, granny?’ asked one curious mind.

‘Don’t you know? By doing this, the heat will spread out evenly. So, every kernel will get to pop, and nothing will be left behind', the older sister replied with a twinkle, hoping for a word of appreciation from the master.

‘Correct, Usha’, the granny replied with a faint smile and sprinkled the corn in the pot. 

In a few minutes, the first pop was heard and welcomed with a loud cheer and clap. Soon there was a barrage of pops and the air was filled with the happy, mouth-watering scent of popcorns. 

Years later, stepping out of my office, a subtle trail left me spellbound on the spot and I slowly realized that it was the similar fragrance that had elated me as a kid a lot. In a whiff, I relived those moments of childhood bursting with wonder and simplicity. I wish time could stay there forever. But it left me feeling wistful and forlorn as if I had woken up from a beautiful dream. There have been many afternoons since, but few come close to those with the magical popcorns!

Locked!

A landlocked country, 

Locked yet again …

Locked in terror

Locked in turmoil 

Locked in trepidation

Locked in its women

Locked in its children

Locked out humanity

Locked out education

Locked out dreams 

Locked out smiles

Locked out music

Locked out hope!

Gold is Gold!

Gold is Gold!

Let every muscle give its best

Let every step be full of zest

Let each breath fight for it

Let the mind be right on it

It is not over till it is over!

Let the final match be played

Let the last punch be thrown

Let that last meter be run

Let that last arrow be hit

It is ok if we lose

But it is important to fight

It is ok if we lose

But it is important to rise

It is ok if we lose

But it is important to learn

It is ok if we lose

But it is important to WIN!

Of Bangalore greys & rainbows

A grey sunrise and an even grey sunset
Most of the days, grey, is what you get

Dark clouds flying in from all directions

Fast or slow varying by their emotions

Hanging so low, it gives me butterflies 

Pouring so wild, it can cover up all lies

Millions of raindrops gossiping with flair

Is it petrichor or do I smell a love affair?

My attention towards my life heightens

As ears clog with a noise that quietens  

Then suddenly the clouds take a break

To me, it seems like a pleasant mistake

But out of the greys, the sun rays peep

Designing an arc that makes me weep

Look! It’s a rainbow! I shouted with joy

With all the colors & charm for convoy

There goes the pan!

A deep gash ran through its center, cutting open its skin 

My spirit fell, as I held it in my hand gently with a napkin

Bought after much research and reviews of the reviews 

It was top of the line non-stick pan with designer views

For months, we had cared for it in the best possible way 

Silicone spatulas, sponge scrubs, and gel soap to sway

But that day, it was picked up by the maid among others

And exposed to third-degree torture just like its brothers

No allowance was given for surface, stain, or sentiment

Every one bore the same share of drubbing and detergent

As it was left to dry itself in the tub, I grasped my goof-up 

and rushed to its rescue but I knew the grave was dug up

Guilty, I tried to heal the wound but it was a lost struggle

With moist eyes, it was time to sound the farewell bugle

You were a dear pan! I choked, unable to bear the drills 

It was time to put it into the joint drawer for all utensils!

Valley of Shepherds - Pahalgam

Lavender swayed gently at my feet, a quaint purple haze

gently pouring into my soul, spread as far as I could gaze 

Seizing the surreal shades of the sky & its surroundings

Brimming with stories about its gutsy glacial beginnings

A little ahead through the fields, a glacial river gushed 

Rolling over all the murmur around as my mind hushed

Spring swirled in every breath, scenting the dew drops

As trees shook off the last tufts of snow from their tops 

Snow peaked mountains rose around, sheathed in pine 

Blazing under the rising sun, as if an abode of the divine

Up among those hilltops was a gorgeous green meadow 

An eternal expanse of joy that only nature could bestow

A flock of sheep tumbled out in the open ready to graze

Their shepherd leaning by a walnut tree with a firm gaze

Suddenly it began to rain, leaving me without adjectives

A wooden bridge led me to a shelter used by the natives

Through the veil of raindrops, I saw a quaint little village

Absorbed, almost meditatively in its chores, like a sage

The bliss of boundless beauty; how could I ever surmise! 

Was I in the center of the universe? Was this ... paradise?

Return to the roots?

I stepped out of my room holding a lantern in one hand and a book in another. Slowly I squeezed myself through the gap between the doors. One extra movement and it would have roared like some giant.

Adjusting the wick to get just enough light, I tiptoed out into the courtyard. It was a clear night. The sheer number of stars I could see up in the sky overwhelmed me with myriad emotions. Quickly glancing through the courtyard, I found a straw mat lying towards one side. Quietly I went up to it. Putting the lantern on the mud floor, I sat down crossed-legged on the mat.

Not much had changed. It was just 8 pm but the world in this part of the earth was already in deep slumber. The breeze playing with the loose strands of my hair was still laden with the smell of corn and wheat.

 

It’s been almost eleven years since I last woke up early morning to pull out spinach from the field or tried to hit a mango hanging from the tree in the afternoons but it seems like only yesterday. All of us cousins grew up and went our ways chasing dreams and livelihood; leaving our village home in the hands of a caretaker. It has stood still since then comforting itself with the echoes of our childhood games and the aromas of wood fire and hand-ground spices while closely guarding the family recipes and gossips between its walls.

 

As the quietness suffused my heart I took out the bookmark and pulled the lantern closer. Eyes moist, I bent over the pages and tried to read. But I couldn’t. Someone was calling me back. Was I ready to return?

Between the Tides - Andaman & Nicobar Islands

There’s a mesmeric world between those tides
where the sun rules and yet the moon decides 

when to reveal the marine realm that flourishes

crabs, corals, sea cucumbers, and starfishes

Sailing and snorkeling into the wild blue yonder

How many more such wonders await? I wonder

On pure beaches beyond the tropical rainforests 

Baby turtles tumble out as they leave their nests

Tall palms, idyllic coves, and an ocean that glows

the wise mangrove creeks & the mud volcanoes

And to think amidst this was the gory cellular jail

Where each brick is a witness to trial and travail

What a human can do to another is unthinkable

And did we learn anything from it? It’s dubitable 

Oh! There are indigenous tribes on far-off islands 

Shielding their way of life like precious diamonds

Secluded from everyone for thousands of years

With no wish to be under our nosy eyes and ears

Accustomed to ways of the wind and the waves 

They make us ‘advanced’ look like digital slaves

Miles away from the lives we are running to build

Living with bare minimum, they are strong-willed 

Tons of thoughts tossed and turned in my mind

As I sank in my hammock to snooze and unwind

How much is too much and how less is lacking,

to live serenely in this world without cracking?

Survivor’s guilt

There are times I feel guilty for …

watching TV

feeling bored

watching movies

laughing over a joke 

having extra paneer

trying out a new recipe

ordering pizza for lunch

chatting with my friends

taking pictures of blue sky

taking a walk on my terrace

scrolling down my Insta page

.

.

.

Sometimes I feel guilty for ... this privilege called life

Enslaved by my mobile

I pick it up and put it back and I pick it up again

‘I will just take a second’ is my standard refrain

I had picked it up once and I picked it up twice

in less than two minutes, and that was not nice!

My eyes burnt, fingers hurt, neck felt awkward

Back bent double, as I check out every forward 

Seconds turned to minutes in a matter of time

Minutes became hours, sans reason or rhyme

WhatsApp or news, I scrolled down till the end 

And when it was done, I started it all over again!

At first, it was just a naïve way to keep in touch

Now my family says, ‘You are absent too much’

Milk spilled, meetings missed, insomnia looming 

As I watched another episode of ‘Homecoming’

Excited or bored, I just reach out for my phone

Having no track of the time I have spent alone

Is it the peer pressure of not being up-to-date?

Or is it the fear of having nothing to anticipate?

I blame it on the feel-good chemical in my brain

But it’s not going to help me from going insane

There has to be a way to change this skivvy fate

I need to reboot into reality before it is too late!