Excerpts..part 2

He lay on his back on the soft moist grass, enjoying Kavitha’s animated gestures. She was still sitting and the moon projected its full light on her face, enhancing her beauty even more. Nothing she spoke made any sense to him. It was her animated expressions and restless eyes that were holding him captive. The tide was picking up in the river, and the soft waves added music to her already musical voice. Suddenly, Kavitha stopped. She understood he was not listening to a single word of hers, but even though she stopped her chatter, he kept looking at her, as if he was listening to a voice from deep inside her. She felt as if he was pulling her towards him. The moon slowly crept behind some dark clouds, knowing very well that the young lovers needed to be alone. Kavitha leaned back, and he felt her soft lips on his. It was slow, unhurried, almost musical as their eyes closed and a soft, cool breeze made her hair graze his face. He did not know how long it lasted, but he knew that this was the moment for which he had known her for years. As if the moon knew it was time, he slowly crept out of his hiding throwing a wake up light to the unconcerned lovers. Their first kiss.  Then a second, and a third. A lightning burst from the corner of the sky, as if nature had had enough of the romance. “Have you been practicing? Doesn’t feel like you are kissing for the first time.”, he chided her, in a playful tone. “How do you know about an experienced kiss?”, she retorted, in an annoyed tone. “Like this”, he said, and kissed her as she melted in his arms. She felt like nature had created this scene, preparing the setting with a diamond studded sky, cool silky breeze and soft caressing waves that made a light musical tone as it reached the banks. They lay there for a while, as he played with her tiny fingers, rubbing them as if it belonged to a new born baby. There was something in his touch that made her heart beat faster. He used to do this every time she started talking, so that she would stop. She could not talk when he played with her hands. She wondered if there was magic in his fingers. Just when it seemed they could live their life like this forever, she heard Kalpana shouting her name. As if awakened from a dream that should never end, she hugged him tight for a few seconds and shouted back to her sister, “I am coming!!! You don’t have to shout. I am not lost!!”.With a sad look on her face she tried to pull her hands away from his, and as he reluctantly loosened his grip he watched her as she jumped along the tiny path leading to her house, holding her skirt with two fingers and balancing herself with the other hand. What would he do without her, he wondered. As he looked at the sky, it had suddenly turned dark, and then, as if to wake him up from the dream, a tiny drop landed on his eyelids.  He lay there, as the rain came pouring down,  reliving the moment that passed by, wondering if he was blessed enough to live through those moments again. After a while the rain stopped, accepting defeat and night wove its magic as sleep seduced him, but Kavitha’s kiss and her moist lips stayed with him.

Finding my Muse..

Here I am, staring at this blank white screen, wondering what to type. A few things flash in my mashed up mind, but nothing interesting. I am sure every one who has written something feels there is a writer hiding deep inside, and no matter how bad we write, its still beautiful for us. That's when i wondered if I am experiencing a "writer's block". Now before you sneer, I sneered upon myself. Considering I have published three best sellers and one that was panned by the critics, its natural that I go through this phase. Ha!! How I wish all these were true!! Unfortunately, I happen to be just one of those blokes who feel they can write, but never give it a try. There are a hundred excuses; too much work, hanging out with friends, I feel sleepy, I had to kill mosquitoes and what not. Finally, when you have all the time to scribble, we realise those were just excuses.At least that's what I felt. This is not any classic writer's block and I am no Shakespeare. Still, considering I am a writer, what does everyone of us need to write? A story? No. Characters? No.A setting? No. Any clue???.....

Now stop thinking and ask me what the hell is it. Well, its a muse. I am sure every single writer, at some point of writing has had a muse. Now don't jump into conclusions. Having a muse doesn't mean it should be a girl or a guy..or both. It can be anything, but there has to be a story behind it, a personal attachment. Something about which you can lose yourself in its thoughts. The way Kemal builds a museum of every single object he collected that reminded him of Fusun , or the city that gave Karla to Shantaram, or the way my neighbourhood shopkeeper lives inside his tiny shop, listening to the radio all day and night, immune to the madness surrounding him. So there it is, I need a muse. Now I start wondering who or what my muse is. I need something or someone apart from all the beautiful women who cross my life every single day. Something that brings back fond memories. How long can I keep musing about the monsoon? And since its given me a bad cold (I cannot blame the beer you know), I should refrain from patronising it. I need something that is close to my heart, which I don't have with me now, something I long for, and a lot of memories attached to it... Hmmm, now what could it be?? think think think think think think think think...tun tun tun tun tun tun (sing it in the tune of Come As You Are by Nirvana)....

Eurekaaaaaaaaaa!!!! ( NO, am not running around naked :-D ).

Why the bloody hell did I not think about you? All through my life, I have spent most of my life dreaming about you, at your ethereal beauty and charm, longing to be with you, hurt when people talk bad about you(although some of it is true), the very meaning of my existence and who I am. Although I have spent most of my life away from you, the love has only grown deeper and stronger. There you are, my muse, and I, an estranged lover longing to get back to you. So my dear,starting now I dedicate my writings to you.

Also a special thanks to someone really special, for getting me back to the world of letters and dreams :-)

excerpts..part 1

He sat on the old country boat by the river. The high tide was slowly picking up, as the sedate waves caressed the edge of the rotten boat, making soft ripples around it. The moon was in full bloom and it added a shimmer to the ripples around him. The bright end of the lighted beedi shone as he took a deep drag, but the fire in his heart could put that to shame. As he looked around the old river, he remembered the night when she was with him, beside him, on the same boat, 5 years back. A lot had changed, the village, Kavitha, Mahesh, Madhavan Ammaman, even the big demonic tree looked tired. But the river was still the same.  He wondered how many like him the wise river had seen. How many souls lay deep in its warm bed. Are they calling him? No. Its not time to go yet. This is not how he wanted to go. At that very moment, he felt somebody crying from the middle of the river. Somebody was fighting against the river, as if it was taking her to the warm bed. He jumped out of the boat and swam in swift strokes towards her. He knew the river would not resist him. They have known each other since he was a kid. Just as he reached to the place he saw the splashing, the water was still. Was he mistaken? No, he was sure that he heard the splashing noise and the desperate cries. He dove deep to see if she had drowned. The moon light gave him some visibility, but he did not need it. All of a sudden he felt a soft, warm hand reach his shoulders. As he turned around, he say her looking straight into his eyes, tiny droplets on her eyelashes shining like tiny pearls. She had a thin sharp nose, tiny ears, thick lips, thicker than most girls he had known, as if kissed by someone who doesn’t know how. She had a long pear shaped face, ending in a pointed chin which gave a sense of symmetry to her uncharacteristic features. She was beautiful, but what tranquilised him was her gaze. For a long time he was floating, enchanted by her gaze, and unknowingly being led by her. He could feel her fragile hands holding his wrist, but he could not resist. He could not control his senses, for her eyes were controlling him, taking him farther and across the river. Another splashing noise! This time a dried coconut from the palm tree leaning to the river came diving. It had bid its time on the top, until he had  no strength to stay on top. Disturbed by the uninvited coconut he suddenly came out of his trance, and she was not there anymore. He looked around again, splashing the water around and diving deep in search of those eyes. He again came to the top, only to be dejected. He was angry. He looked around to see if someone was playing a prank on him. But who would dare to play around with him in Thuruthambalam? Even his worst enemies would not, leave alone some girl. He wondered what a girl would be doing in the river, that too in the middle of the night. He swam back slowly to the shore, all the while thinking of those big eyes and swollen lips. Was it a dream, or was it not?