Love Sense

"I didn't know. I couldn't tell."
"Why not? You always know - You have always been able to tell"
"Oh, but don't you see, I couldn't?"
"You should have!"
"Oh, but how could I make sense, when all I could do was love!"

Clouds

I understand the cloud. It's pure-white brightness, brimming in sunshine, swaying and gliding in fluffy delight. And in a moment it is brooding - heavy, a pit full of black bursting into a torrential storm!

Sticky Date Pudding

"I'm sweet on you"
"I see."
"Is that all you are going to say?"
"No."
"I'm waiting..."
"Stick with me...."

The Tree's Lament

Preserve me:
I have the wisdom of years
Nurture me:
I am the essence of life
Honour me:
I am the will behind growth

Strong are my roots,
Robust my trunk,
flexible are my branches,
Numerous my leaves,
Delicate my flowers

I grant you shade,
I offer you sustenance,
I deliver you aesthetic rapture,
I give you life -

I watch as you tear down my kith and kin
And I cry for them; I cry for myself,
Mostly, I cry for you and the ignorance you display.

Nature's grace

Grant me this -
That I can wake up to the golden sun
as it kisses the blue skies;
That I can hear the wind's seducing whispers
as it caresses the dancing trees;
That I can see the besotted dew drop
resting rapturously on blushing petals;
That I can glorify in the beautiful night
as the silver moon embraces it's heart.

Park moments

As you drive into the Nairobi National Park (NNP) from the Main gate, the Hippo Pools is found at the far end of the park. We usually drive a full circuit of the park, and Hippo Pools is a regular pit stop. As you drive out of Hippo Pools, you can opt to go towards the Athi dam - further away from the main gate, or drive down to the East and Maasai gates and onwards, to the park forest and the Main gate.

If you drive towards Maasai gate, the road gets a bit hilly. There is one particular spot where the road dips and forks into a stunning plethora of acacias and a small riverine (one of the numerous seasonal rivers and tributaries within the park) flows across the road, adding the touch of perfection to the scene. The bridge over these, sometimes tiny, streams are tarmacked and fairly straight forward to drive over. The one at this spot, however, is a bit notorious because the "bridge - back to road" drop is uneven and shoddy.

This spot is one of those places where I, and I'm sure other park and wildlife enthusiasts, dream of sighting leopards, or something rare. It simply speaks of magic sightings: the perfect place for an animal. Oh, the visions I've seen there...But of course the places we seem to think are ideal for viewing animals are probably not that ideal, and merely the effects of our brains fantasising. The animals themselves seem to frown upon the "perfect" locations, and we usually end up sighting the more common impala, other grazers, or monkeys rather than what we expect - spectacular maybe, but not exactly singular.

Being the dreamers that we are, we persistently search deep and hard as we pass by our magic spots. What if we do chance upon a spotted creature, lurking in the acacias, or near the stream? What if there is a flap of a white and black fluffy tail hanging from a branch. What if? Oh, the possibilities!

And a few weeks ago, we had our what if moment.

It all began with our pursuit of happiness which in our case is the unmatchable pleasure of sighting some lions. The drive at the park was getting a bit frustrating for us as we are rarely satiated unless we have a visual of our beloved lions. Do not get me wrong we were thrilled to have seen 7 rhinos, 2 jackals, and numerous giraffe, zebra, impala and related folk. Yet, the lion sighting beckoned us.

We left Athi damn happy. We had seen a crocodile - it's snout peeking out of the waters - still and deceptive, zebras were traipsing gaily into the water, drinking up, and then walking away, three hippos frequently popped in and out of the water, as if unsure about whether they wanted to hide or not. We were also fortunate to see a number of white rhinos as we drove towards the Hippo Pools.

Once we arrived there, we heard a few reports of a big maned lion at number 29 and hastened to search for it. Our thorough search was fruitless and we proceeded again to number 6, and the lone tree areas - a haunt preferred, these days, by the park lions. Still no luck. Once again there were rumours of 2 lions at number 18 near some murram pits. Typical of insane park fanatics, we drove back to the other end of the park only to see two rhinos, definitely not lions, at the said pits.

Ever optimistic, or perhaps ever stubborn, we continued to journey towards the Hippo Pools, and onwards towards the cheetah gate where a fellow visitor had told us they had sighted, briefly, Athi (an identified and famous NNP lioness) and her cubs. It was another dry run for us and we didn't get to see Athi or her elusive cubs.

However, that drive will be etched in our memories forever - another one of those incredible wildlife moments that happen fleetingly, but are so vivid and unique they leave a glorious feeling of awe in your life.

On our way to find Athi, we drove towards the Hippo Pools and used the same route where we dream of sighting a leopard. And for a change we drove extra slowly over the bridge. In that precious moment, a movement caught my eye and I screamed, "Shalini! Crocodile!" And, there it was in the relatively shallow riverine, barely 5 metres away from us - a crocodile, snout and eyes visible, gliding away from the bridge as though we had surprised it into life. Oh, it was so thrilling! I could see its round, beady eyes looking at us warily, and then before we could click a photo or capture a video, the miracle crocodile had slunk into the depths of the brown water.

I can see it even now. What a rare sighting! The crocodiles we have seen at the park are usually at the Hippo pools, Athi river, or at the dams. This visual led to so many questions - why was this crocodile here? How did it get here? Why was it brownish? What would happen when the water dried up? Were the unaware grazers around us aware of the danger lurking so close? How wonderful! How exciting!

Words, love & dreams

For my muse, Harish Kavirajan and my inspiration, heroine & sister, Shalini Srivatsan

If you are the moon, then I am that imperfect impression nested in the heart of your golden-silver light. Together we create a faultless moon glade

There was a firm, but gentle wind: A zephyr where I carefully planted my dreams, and watched as the wind glided away. Skies beyond, the wind slowed down at your door, and the wind chimes tinkled in delight as you opened the doors, and let my dreams flower at your side.

Your love is like the snow on a mountain top, melting into life when you kiss my warm lips.
Your love is like a summer breeze settling under the shade of a tree when your hand weaves into mine.
Your love is like autumn leaves, full of hues, filling my eyes with the colours of desire.
Your love is like the green of spring, wholesome and sweet, serenading me with sacred promises.

I wish I was the rain, so you would look at me with the dream filled eyes that gaze endlessly into the storm.

I'll smile today, and laugh heartily. And, if I cannot, then I will smile and laugh through you.

I would like to be loved the way the morning dew kisses the soft petals of a blossoming rose.

Your eyes mesmerise me. I look into their depths and see the missing pieces of my own heart.

When my hand rests against your heart, I feel my soul sing in it's every beat.
And when our lips meet, then, oh, I know I am complete.

A sister's hold is like none other. It will steady you forever and swathe you in love.
A sister's hold is like a protective seal of gentle perfection.
A sister's hold is an intimate conversation promising love, eternal.

I am the wind that flies with you as you ride into the sunset,
I am the sparkling river that bends with you towards the sunset,
I am the warmth lighting the road that you ride on,
I am the heart that stays with you, always, as you ride on

At the end of a long, tiring day, coming home is warm and reassuring. Finding you there - that is magic.

Weird....

I find myself inching away from living. It is, at times, a terrifying experience, but in the spaces between the scary moments, it is liberating.

When I am not bound by anxiety or panic, I love this feeling of obtuse indifference - like I am in the calm before the storm. And somehow, everyday more blandness and blankness pushes the storm farther and farther away.

It is an interesting experience, this: to not think, or feel. The downside is that I am walled up against experiencing the good things too. The upside, well now that is out of this world - like a caged animal on display that is sitting sedately in a corner of it's prison, unmoved by passers by - by their jibes, or by their awe. I carry on with life, unmoved and unfazed by the rashness or judgement of others

Love by choice

A few words inspired by a quote I read today!

It's about choice isn't it? Everything boils down to choice. No matter what I say or do, or don't say and don't do, choice is what matters. My choice lays the foundation for every further action, inaction, or next choice.

I choose to love you. And I am glad I have the ability to make that choice. I choose to love you despite the fact that many times, I am flummoxed by your choices; your decisions; your actions.

I choose to love you. I also chose to tell you how I feel. I chose to acknowledge that shunning you from my thoughts and feelings leaves me feeling incomplete and alone. I choose to share all my hopes and dreams and my trials and tribulations.

The best thing of course is that I choose to love you - time and time again

Bike hard, Bike far

I could hear it,
the sound was guttural - deep.

It was growing louder still,
The nuances of the biker's movements
Clear from the sounds

Again, I heard the throttle,
There was a distinct sound,
The rider would have carved
The bend in the road.

Then, there was a sudden pull,
I could see the beacons of yellow light
Illuminating the road ahead

And then, I could see it,
Rider and bike,
Twisting the wick,
Approaching at full throttle

A beatific beast
Powerful and sure.
Triumph - the name suited
both rider and bike.

It slowed down, next to me,
Eager to journey on,
I waved it off,
Watched as they rode into the sun,
Ready to move the soul

A place of escape

There is a scene in The Lion King, where Mufasa and Simba are overlooking a beautiful landscape. This scene has been used and misused world over to express a variety of emotions. To me, that view and looking at it is what my heart yearns for now, and time and time again.
There is a gentle breeze and my hair finds freedom in the wind. I breathe in freshness and a sense of life. I see the savannah grasslands for miles on end, lone trees scatter the land beyond, and even further - at the end of everything - the distinct, crisp horizon.

It is a pleasant day. The African sun shines gently on my arms and then pleasantly moves behind the almost grey (is it almost white?) clouds. It is weather that appeals - not hot and stark, not cold and bereft, but just pleasant.

There is a wholesome quietness around me. It awakens my senses. I can smell the rain soaked mud from yonder. I see the golden light fall between the shadows of the blades of dancing grass. I hear the lilting melodies of birds - some that I can see, some lost in the surrounding fauna. A stark vulnerability and humility exudes from me as I stand here alone - exposing my soul to the universe.

And then I see it. At first it is just an inconsequential movement. My eyes anticipate the flicker of a dark tail, my heart beat has picked up in excitement. Possibility is turning into a silhouette and has gradually formed an existence. She is beautiful: A graceful yellow matching the play of light on the wheat-like carpet of savannah. I can see her stride confidently, queen of camouflage; queen of the savannah; queen of everywhere. She lifts her head now and looks about her. The air brings her news of my presence. She turns slowly and sits back on her haunches. Her golden eyes scanning her surroundings, stopping at me for a few minutes, capturing my soul with her gaze and then she is gone: into the grass, and far beyond my sight: from lioness to a shadow, to movement, to a flickering, to quiet, and an imprinted memory.

Around me the wind blows on, the birds sing, things I cannot see live on. The sun plays with the clouds and I feel the tears pour down my face, cleansing the anguish in my heart, purging the daily worries in my mind. The cares have vanished with my tears, and laughter gurgles out of me. I smile, content. This is my moment of peace and acceptance. It is my place of complete escape.

A Magical Friend

We had the strangest feeling as we looked to the North. It was as if the whole forest was moving and coming towards us. Slowly, we could make out the comical figure of a harried man, with a top hat befitting a wizard, running in front of the blackness, dashing madly as if death itself was behind him. A minute later we spied the sprightly shadow of a cat and it was soon evident that the magician was pursued not by an onerous monster, but a wee cat!

Winter Fairy and I were grappling with a fit of laughter as the man in a wizard hat dashed past us, into the comforting circle of trees that was doused in the golden light of sunset. Soon the cat, in it's black fur, and startling blue eyes was in front of us, paused as if considering something, and then stopped down.

Convinced that the cat was harmless, I approached her cautiously. She sat on her haunches, watching me with an air of confidence that belied the trembling fur on her body. She purred frightfully as I bent down and reached for her, but slowly snuggled into my arms.

For a few minutes I was paralysed and surprised that I did not throw her out of my hands in fright. This little cat had just spoken to me, as a human would. As if in a daze, I found myself listening to her tiny voice. She was not pursuing the wizard out of malice, but simply trying to explain to him that she was not some evil manifestation. She explained to us how one of the wizards experiments had given her speech. She had kept this a secret for ever so long and had finally taken a chance and spoken to the startled old man a few minutes earlier. I couldn't help smiling as she described how the wizard had burst out of his hut, running like the wind, stark fear evident in his every stride. I sobered down as I noticed the pearl sized tears filling the cats eyes.

I turned towards the trees where the wizard had taken refuge and I could see that he was listening to the cat's story. I made my way cautiously towards him, Winter fairy at my side, not wanting to frighten the quaint cat, or the fidgety wizard.

We were almost at arms length from him, when the wizard leapt out from behind his hiding place, and strode towards us mumbling and muttering, "That spell - always, always getting me into problems. Oh dear, oh dear. I shall never again alter it. But what a cat to give me a fright. A poor old wizard like me. And how they laughed. Oh, this cat." The rest of his soliloquy was obscure.

He was at our side now and he quickly took cat out of my arms and bowed down low to us. He continued walking towards the forest, holding cat gently, and muttering to her. I saw him look back once, a twinkle in his eye and a merry smile on his lips. And then he was lost in the dense greens of the forest.

I have learnt since then that the clumsy, comical wizard is more than that. He has a reputation of being one of the most powerful magicians of this land and beyond; perhaps of this time and beyond. Winter fairy narrates stories of great battles that have been won because of him. There is a desire now, deep in my heart, to meet the wizard and to be friends with him. I believe he will have the most interesting stories to tell. But more than that - I think of that twinkle in his eye and I know that we must be friends - I feel it in my bones. Winter fairy will have nothing to do with it and thinks I am unhinged. She says wizards are best left alone. I don't think so. I think the wizard and I will be the best of friends...

Today, I find myself walking into the Northern forest and approach a lopsided cottage. I am excited as I knock on the rickety door in front of me.

A familiar white hat and blue robe welcome me inside. Beyond at the tiny table laid out with scrumptious looking food is an old man.

"Welcome, child, " he lifted his goblet, "to happy times."

I walked in and gave him a hug. This was the start of a wonderful friendship"

Your love, my life.

You teach me to love what I know:
The was, is and what will always be.
You look at the things I know,
The things I have and treasure -
Brush it gently with colour
give it taste and flavour.
You let me love all that is mine.

You teach me to look deep within
And see the things I don't often see.
You show me beauty,
Outside of what I already know.
You show me that here and there,
now and later, old and new, can all come together.
You let me love all that can be.

You are my tree trunk with it's deep roots.
You are my branches dancing in the wind.
You are my eternal shade,
You are my hope for the sky.
You are who I am and all that I can be.

Why you should...

... spell my name the correct way.

For those of you who know me, you are well aware of the fact that my pet peeve (if it can be called that) is having my name spelled incorrectly. From when I was young, I have had people kill my name by pronouncing it in ridiculous ways. Whilst this is annoying, I often find myself understanding the difficulties associated with speaking foreign words. My sympathy, however, does not extend itself from phonetics to spelling.

It seems to me that people enjoy spelling my name wrong. And I can tell you here and now that that is the pinnacle of rubbish-like things to do. Why?

Well, let me tell you something. When I read my name spelt Shruti or Sruti or any thing that is not Shruthi- you have already dropped about 50 levels down into my moron - alert box. But being the nice person I am, I communicate and let you know that my name is spelt SHRUTHI. At this point I feel that anyone with half a brain will understand that I expect to be addressed correctly. Sadly, sense is really very uncommon, and many a times, I will have people communicate back and still use the incorrect spelling of my name.

Whoa! So, now you are not only at the bottom of my moron list, you have now told me you are a brainless git. Those who write to me in the professional sphere, and continually misspell my name - you have got to be kidding me! It tells me that you are a moron, with no brains, and no interest in actually paying attention to what you are doing, and what you are telling me. If I respond to you - it is simply me being professional. Kindly note that anything I do for you hence-forth is done because it has to be, and under duress... and as you continue misspelling my name, the number of curses you are accumulating grows at an alarming rate.

Then, there are the personal messages - from friends, uncles, aunts, cousins, acquaintances etcetera etcetera. So, I get all sorts of excuses - typos, default spell checker options, memory lapse, aggravation (aggravating me on purpose, that is) and bull shit and bull shit and more bull shit. So, there you have it. That is exactly what I am thinking. My reaction to you may vary - I may laugh it off, I may get mad, I may ignore it.... but remember the moron level always keeps note!

So let's do us all a favour and spell my name correctly - SHRUTHI!