Here I Go Writing

There are dogs in the sky and their barking has begun. Splat, splattering – water is splitting into smaller rounds as it splats. It stains the branches and buildings with a moistened, darker shade of whatever colour they were before. My mind is waning; the dogs are slowly fading and cease to accompany the splatting.

I grabbed my pen and keyboard keys when I first heard the dogs, but now I don’t bother to stick my ears out of the window. The rain has passed as quickly as it broke in -to my head. A passage about rain is not easy when the metaphors usually associated with it are boring. Yet this is about rain and water – and splats and some common writer’s struggle.

My eyes dart between a charcoal keyboard and dripping trees outside the window . Back and forth I look, making this experience a report. Should I have waited, gone to get wet and then put fingers to keys? Should I have fed the dogs my full attention?

It all seems pointless now, there are no splats or even spits to be heard. I have written about rain, and that too barely. Maybe writing keeps me by the wayside to watch life pass by and— no that’s not the metaphor I’m going for.

I assume I should continue writing for it’s at least drizzling. But why talk about the experiences of a visiting husband; one who appears as fast as he disappears. Was he ever there? There are no crimson marks on my inner thoughts to serve as proof. What difference does it make to the rain? Why write at all?

And now comes a sickness washing over me, as I hear the dogs return.

With a vengeance, their hungry barks demanded  wetness. It takes a moment and a giggle to realise my gross underestimation about the rain and the word. Lesser are the feelings to enjoy one over the other. Here I am, converted to optimism and watching raindrops splat harder, fast but with grace. Here I go writing even after this fullstop.

 

© 2018 Pia Krishnankutty & springtidevoice. wordpress.com All Rights Reserved

She Comes To Visit

This time of the year is when I usually meet a dear friend; she visits me to accompany the abundance of space between four blank walls. Solitude, how are you so consistent? How do you overcome and override time and time again?

Most misconstrue your presence as the beginning of turmoil or something sad or pitiful, but to me, you have been good. To me, you are a guide or a pedagog who has shoved me into growth and besides, I like you. It makes me think that no matter how good a swimmer I am, the tide is something I continually fail to fathom.

Perhaps you condemned me on our first meeting; perhaps you didn’t. But we are much past that now; there is little time for dilly dallying and dicking around. With Solitude, I see clearer even if a film of tears clouds my vision. To make peace with an enemy, is to gain a friend, I assume, but despite the time we spend together and learn from each other, you are too unpredictable to trust. As much as I dwell in you in order to comprehend your ways, you evade me. I expect nothing different; you are mine till the very end. The thought of losing you leaves a bitter taste in my mouth like the first bite of uncooked karela; I can munch all I want but a sweetness will never avail.

That is what makes it okay for my dear friend to come and make a place in my being from time to time. It’s quite alright for I know, that her visits to me are but visits and maybe, she sees me as a mirrored visitor too. Maybe I’m okay with her skulking around in nooks and crannies of my shoebox-sized dorm room because I’m skulking around in hers simultaneously. If I get closer I’ll love her more, and so the only appropriate approach during this lonely time of year, is gratitude. So thank you.

 

© 2017 Pia Krishnankutty & springtidevoice. wordpress.com All Rights Reserved

OQ #43

Could non-violence stem from a violent mentality? Doesn’t the effort of suppressing instinctive aggressions or striking them down seem like a protest against a physical body, be it your own?

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OQ #42

Does your moral compass point toward good tendencies or good intentions?

© 2016 Pia Krishnankutty & springtidevoice. wordpress.com All Rights Reserved

OQ #41

Being a reader makes you less of an open book.

© 2016 Pia Krishnankutty & springtidevoice. wordpress.com All Rights Reserved

OQ #40

Less is more, more or less.

© 2016 Pia Krishnankutty & springtidevoice. wordpress.com All Rights Reserved