Dedication- To my beautiful best friend Geetha Nair Passam

We know each other since freshman year in school. She became my best friend the next year and we were each others shadow. I relied on her with everything, as she did with me. I can honestly say we're like sisters. We understand each other perfectly and always know what to say to make each others lives bearable. Both of us went through rough times, but were always there for each other so we were not alone ever. There are so many memories I could list that I have with her that are just stuck in my head and shape our relationship and what we are. Memories of those days are still fresh when we used to have lots of fun, outings, and used to be awaken till late nights listening to FM channel and completing all my projects and dessertation.  She always used to help me in all my project works and thesis. I miss calling her up early in the morning and disturbing her from her sleep. Though we stayed far after few years in same city but then too the habit was still the same till she got married and shifted to UAE to call her up and disturb her from her sleep.  We really had a lot of gossiping sessions and lot to tell each other. After she got married this sessions continued and her husband one of a very good friend of us used to get irritated and jealous but still these long chats continued and it continued till the day she shifted to UAE. Though we stayed in a same city in Mumbai but in different places we meet 5 – 6 times in a year and now it is so difficult to talk to her due to our hectic schedules but still we don’t forget to ping each other whether be on a GTalk or a Facebook chat. Even though she moved to UAE; we still have that bond that will never be broken by anything or anyone. I miss her dearly and I hope we can visit one another soon and celebrate all the holidays, birthdays and parties that we missed in each others lives. She's a married woman now, and has grown so much. But when we meet each other we are back to our old memories and we back to our childhood fun and mastis I am very proud of everything she accomplished and what she will achieve in the future. She's a simple person, but has a huge heart and an amazing personality and she will always be special to me no matter where she is today. She is always been an inspiration and a motivator in my life. She is one of the pillars of my life. For me she is a very special friend and an angel who makes my life very cheerful.

If you get to read this I hope you can come visit me soon so we can go crazy like I promised you LOL! You are my best friend. Always were, always will be. No matter what happens, where life takes us, you are with me and I am with you always. I love you always dearly and I really Miss you so much.

                       

                          Never Feel Rejected

 Once, there was this guy, who was in love with a girl. She wasn’t the most beautiful and gorgeous but for him, she was everything. He used to dream about her, about spending the rest of life with her. His friends told him, “why do you dream so much about her, when you don’t even know if she loves you or not? First tell her your feelings, and get to know if she likes you or not”. He felt that was the right way.

The girl knew from the beginning, that this guy loves her. One day when he proposed, she rejected him. His friends thought he would take alcohol; drugs etc. and ruin his life. To their surprise, he was not depressed. When they asked him how was it that he is not sad, he replied, “‘why should I feel bad? I lost one who never loved me and she lost the one who really loved and cared for her.”

Moral: True Love is hard to get. Love is all about giving to other person without greed of gaining anything in return, if other person rejects it, its him/her who will be losing most important thing in life. So never feel rejected.

                  

A short story based on Hindu mythology regarding creation of Earth

Before the world, Sky or stars were made, there was darkness. It was everywhere, and it was empty; but for all its emptiness it was neither dead nor cold. It was warm, damp and lively, endless ripping and eddying throughout the universe. If people had existed and been able to see it, it would have seemed like a giant creature without shape, breathing softly as it slept. And if they had been able to listen, they would have heard its ripples gradually transform themselves to sound. A word began. At first it was no more than a whisper, but it swelled and grew to a billow of sound, a gentle syllable endlessly repeating itself, folding back on itself, coiling and twisting till it filled all space. OM ... OM ... OM... .

As the word unfolded and speared, calm as a heartbeat, it turned the rippling universe into an endless, unfathomable ocean. Deep in the water bobbed a seed as the ocean currents ebbed and flowed, they carried it to the surface to become a glowing golden egg. The egg rocked on the water, and wave tips reflected its radiance to every corner of the darkness round about. As it rocked, the sacred word “OM” went on cradling it, enfolding it the way rose-petals enfold the flower-heart deep inside. The sound was in and out and roundabout, and inside the eggshell, it formed itself into Brahma, the First Father, Creator of Worlds.

When Brahma was ready to be born, he hatched like a chick from the golden egg. From half the shell he made the sky; from the other he made the earth; he set air between them to keep them apart. The sky-shell twinkled in the smoke of space like a myriad stars, or life water-drops glistening in an upturned bowl. The earth-shell bobbed on the sea, until Brahma anchored it with rocks and mountain-peaks. The air between the shells sometimes took its form the golden light above, and was clear and pure; at other times it gathered dampness from the sea below, and blanketed the earth with storms.

When the earth was ready, Brahma drew out of himself six elements: thought, hearing, sight, touch, taste and smell. He blended the element to make living things of every kind. He sowed the earth with plants, and gave them two gifts; the sense of touch and the power to remark themselves with seeds and fruits. He stocked the land with animals and the sea with fish, and set the air whirring with birds and insects-and to each of them he gave seven gifts: the sense of touch, taste, hearing, sight, and smell, the power to reproduce themselves and the power of movement. The world throbbed with life, as its new creatures squawked, hissed, chattered, buzzed, yelped, whistled and barked on every side.

So Brahma created all living things, and gave them gifts. One thing only he kept from them: though. The world was their playground, and they had senses to enjoy it-why should they need thought as well? Until the time came when he made a creature worthy of possessing intelligence, Brahma locked it inside himself. Many age passed, and he spent them roaming the world delighting in his own creation. Sometimes he rode a lotus-boat. With his hands he picked up all kinds of objects and carried them: a pink lotus-flower, a string of prayer, a sacred book, golden pot.

After a time, Brahma divided himself and made another being, Saraswati. As soon as she existed, Brahma fell passionately in love with her. He gazed fondly at her, and she lowered her eyes and modestly stepped to one side, out of his gaze. At once a second head appeared on Brahma’s neck, gazing at her lovingly as before. She stepped behind him, and a third head grew; she stepped to his other side, and a fourth head grew; she soared into the air above him, and a fifth head grew, looking up. Brahma said, “Come down, Saraswati. Help me make angles to live in light, demons to live in darkness, and the human race to live on earth.” Saraswati swooped back down to earth and married him.

Saraswati is the goddess of knowledge and of all the arts, especially music. She holds: Flowers, prayer-beads, finger-drum or palm-leaf book; she plays a wire-stringed veena, and her music fills the world with sweetness of the gods.

The Saraswati Vandana which is sung in some schools is a most beautiful and melodious composition in praise, basically, of the idea of education.

Whenever it rains.....

Even though I am so mad at the rains for flooding the city and ruining the organized chaos it contains, I still love it to the core. It brings back such beautiful memories, blemish free. I remember when we were young the monsoon used to be unerringly punctual, always arriving on the 1st of June like clockwork. I remember the first day of school, 15th of June, and everyone used to arrive soaking wet, damaging all the new shoes, uniforms, books, bags, covers and everything else on the very first day. I remember we used to lay out our soaking books with their transparent wet page on the floor at home under the ceiling fan so that they would get dry till the next day and we may be able to use them.

I met my friend after a month of literally not seeing each other which a rare thing is for us. We decided to go for a walk because the weather was all misty and dreamy and seldom is it so quite than it is right after it rains. It was drizzling a little, very lightly, hardly touching surfaces at all. It was beautiful. I am not going to talk about the freshness of the air, the smell of the soil or the greenness of the leaves or even the patter of raindrops on the window panes, because when a season as divine as monsoon is a part of your life, there are little things of beauty that you take for granted.

I was reading Night train to Lisbon at around 2 am last night and the book is so beautiful I was scared and during one of the more pensive parts when everything was quite as a murder scene and the darkness outside was complete and I felt like I was alone in the world at last and then suddenly it had started raining heavily, the silence destroyed but yet the solitude remained intact. The rain fell heavily and very noisily but still no one woke up and I switched off the lights and came up and sat at the window admiring the wetness being consumed by the ground and already little rivulets forming in the parched ground and then there was the smell of the wet soil, so precious and rare Probably it was the unruly clouds playing mischief that day, but does anything smell as heavenly as the first rain? They should bottle this stuff and sell it.

And there when the wanton clouds were pouring out in their mischief, as I sat in complete darkness on the window sill and I reached out my hand and raindrops kissed my fingertips, there was a poetry in that moment, a longing, I couldn’t stretch too far and could only get my fingertips wet but still the little sprays were brushing my face, the wind too strong to be stopped by our heavy brocade curtains and there in that moment my life was bliss. There are very few moments in my life when I can remember being so happy and so alive, so blissful it was almost like the world didn’t matter and the universe was acknowledging my presence.  Thank You God for a wonderful Monsoon ..........I just love it! :)