Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Friday, October 21, 2016

The Smell of Good Times

 
Ah! The whiff of freshly brewed coffee while lazing in bed.
Hmm…the aroma of oven fresh cake.
Oof! The stink of garbage as you cross the garbage dump.
Oh no! The odour of leaking gas!

The olfactory sense is not one that gets much attention. It may not even be considered an important one, in comparison to the rest. Yet, think about it…lack of the smelling sense could take the fragrance out of our lives, literally!
We can learn a lot by the smell of things, probably more than by the visual or textural experience. Smells allow us an experience – both pleasant and otherwise, before it becomes concrete and tangible. For e.g., a red-coloured powder could be anything. But a single sniff will warn you that it’s chilli powder, without having to suffer its sting on your tongue. Colourless toxic gases that have a smell can be sniffed out even by a layman, in the absence of scientific tools. It’s not uncommon to have people smell something burning, much before they spot the source.

Often, we are led by our nose to sniff out danger before we see or feel it. What a catastrophe it would be, if we couldn’t smell the gas leaking in our kitchen! Or the bread burning in the oven! Or… (eeew!) the queer smell of food gone bad before we take a bite! Recent research studies show that fear reactions can occur at the sensory level, even before the brain has had the opportunity to interpret that the odour could mean trouble. No wonder that the English language has an idiom, ‘to smell out danger’.

Let’s think of our childhood. Most of our memories are accompanied by a particular smell. My first thoughts are full of the light floral fragrance of my mum’s Yardley talcum powder as I rested my head on her shoulder, the Old Spice cologne when I snuggled up with my Dad, the peculiar comforting smell of my nanny, the smell of earth as we entered my mother’s village… Sigh… the sweet scent of memories. On the flip side, smells can bring back painful, fearful memories too! For instance, the smell of diesel fumes for a soldier or the smell of smoke for a burns victim. Would memories be as intense, in the absence of smells?

Kumar chetta, the cook at Chinmaya Heritage Centre in Chennai, knows just by the aroma, whether the coffee has enough sugar or not! Unbelievable but true! My favourite Aunt Rekha, was such a skilled cook, she could rattle out the ingredients of a dish with just a sniff. Knowing whether a dish is ready by the aroma is one thing, but to guess all the ingredients? Mind-blowing!

Observe shoppers in the marketplace. Many will sniff a fruit to know whether it is ready for consumption. My Dad knows the variety of a mango and its ripeness with a whiff. Now that’s one skill I have kind of developed by sniffing around with him! Does that mean this is a skill that can be refined with practice? Certainly. In the movie ‘The Hundred-Foot Journey’, it is interesting to watch how the protagonist’s mother trains him to cook, with much focus on the olfactory sense, more than any other.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Blue


Blue, blue, blue
Vast, infinite, mesmerising
No beginning, no end
Here, there and everywhere.
All embracing, all encompassing
Ever so inviting, deliciously cool.
Love pours forth in every way
Drenched in his love, I swoon, I sway
The smile on my face, gives me away.
Shades of blue, dark and bright
Lighter, at times almost white
So inviting, I cannot fight.
I soar up high, oh so high
Lighter than cotton, no effort required.
To merge and be one is my heart’s desire.

The twinkling eyes, the dazzling smile
Features so fine, face shining bright
The curls dance framing the face
Long shapely fingers beckon me ahead.
The swish of the silk, the gurgling laugh
Silent footsteps falling so soft.
Lost in the moment, no mind to confuse
One single thought, “It is you.”
A long wait, painful and tough
Shedding tears, yearning for your touch
Worth it after all, for you have come
To take me along...
Where no more will there be a you and I.
Just blue, blue, blue… vast, infinite.






- Rukma

Saturday, May 30, 2009

What Differentiates Dogs from Humans?

With all due apologies to the humble dog for having brought him down to the same platform as a human…

Well, for one dogs are faithful.
Dogs love in spite of, not because of.
Dogs love you even if you don’t really serve any purpose in their lives.
Dogs are, well, they’re simply dogs. They are not this, that and the other, atleast not in their eyes. (Though we humans tend to classify them as mongrels, pedigree etc.)
Dogs live by their innocent instinct with no devious thinking and scheming of how to and what to and who to and when to.

Ah! Now about the superior human race…well, the less said the better!!

PS - All posts in this blog are a fiction of my wild imagination. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Friday, November 14, 2008

The Touch of Love

The stroke of the fingers…the warmth of the palm…the caressing touch…the love is evident in the touch of the hands. The touch of the hands is enough to lift my sagging spirit and heal my wounded soul, not forgetting the magic it creates in mending my battered and pain ridden body. I call this the healing touch. It’s not in the hands, nor in the massage, and neither in the balm being used. It’s simply love.

I’m talking about the touch of my parents’ hands. (What did you think??!!)

Whenever I’m down and out, be it fever or headache or something worse what provides instant relief is the touch of my parents’ hand. Be it my mother or my father, the moment they lay their hand on my forehead I feel a surge of energy. The sense of wellbeing returns. Be it the lightness of my Mother’s hand or the heaviness of my Father’s hand…what’s common is the experience of love. As she strokes my forehead to relieve me of a headache…as he places his palm on my forehead to check whether I’m running a temperature. Yes, it’s the touch of love.

No medicine, no balm, no counselling, no doctor can do what the touch of love can. It heals, it mends, its cures, it binds, it strengthens us. I almost wish to fall ill more often in order to experience this healing touch. Believe it or not, you have to experience it to know the healing touch. In the expression of love the physical connection is a must. Often, in the process of growing up we drift apart, not emotionally, but physically. The instances of touch reduce. It is only on rare occasions that the physical connect happens. But when it does, it’s one immense experience. Trust me…I’m still basking in the last one.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

What More Can I Ask For

A lot of people come into our lives but there are those few who touch deep within. They come and leave an indelible mark on our life. They are the ones who touch deep within, one way or the other. They are the ones we call friends.

Here's a poem I wrote years ago for my friend Sonali, but the same stands true for all my other friends. Today I re-dedicate the poem to all my dearest friends, the stars in the night sky that is my life.

What More Can I Ask For...

Someone…
To lean on
To listen to your woes
To comfort you, to hold you close
What more can one ask for?

Someone…
To count on when times are tough
To share dreams, hopes, aspirations
Even the wildest ones
What more can one ask for?

Someone…
To correct, to reprimand you
To teach, to guide you
To heal, to nurture you
What more can one ask for?

Someone…
Who loves you the way you are
Despite your follies, your faults, your idiosyncrasies
Accepts you unconditionally
What more can one ask for?

Ti’s but a miracle…
To get without asking
To find without looking
That ‘someone’ we call a friend
So true, so fine, so dear

I don’t remember asking
But God gave you to me
What I did to deserve you,
Well, don’t ask me!
What more can I ask for?

-Rukma

'He'

There are teachers, and there Teachers. Some teach, some help us learn. Some teach, some touch our lives to change them forever. Here's a poem I wrote some years back, a humble tribute to my (spiritual) Teacher.

He

He is love,
He is peace,
He is the ocean, so vast, so deep.

He is a smile,
He is laughter,
He is tears of joy and surrender.

He is a friend,
He is a neighbour,
He is a parent, nourishing forever.

He praises,
He admonishes,
He pampers and spoils.

H lifts and soars our spirits high,
He instills faith and boosts our pride.

He is a whip which keeps us in check,
He is a magic wand that casts on us a spell.

He is a teacher, who loves and reprimands,
He is a harness that keeps our feet on the ground.

He is the light,
He is the pointer,
He is the way too.

He points out the road less travelled by
Urging us to go on, walk in your own light.

- Rukma

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Without Him

With all due respect to Feminists (well, I too qualify to be one, but not an extreme case. At least I hope I'm not. Only friends n fly would be able to confirm that) here's a poem on what it is to be without Him. Yes, you can also say Her, or even It for that matter; for now lets go beyond the grammar & punctuation and focus on the essence of the poem.

Who is 'Him' you ask? Well, you are free to relate to the 'Him' in way you like. It can be God, father, mother, friend, lover, brother, sister..... the choice is yours!

Without Him

The night without its stars
The morning without the sun
The brook without its gurgle
Like the snow in the sun.

The bird without its chirp
The flower without its scent
The grass without its colour
Like a spider without its web.

The guitar without its strings
The drum without its beat
The flute without its music
Like the trumpet without a peep.

The air without the wind
The thunder without its roar
The dog without its tail
Like a fish out of water.

Like a canvas without paint
Like a monsoon without the rains
Like a tree without roots
Like a dry leaf in the sun.

Monday, September 29, 2008

Kiss & make up

Mellow tiffs, cold wars, steamy fights, fiery arguments....form an uncanny part of any relationship. Be it parent & child, siblings, friends, colleagues, relatives, lovers or even enemies (yes! enemity too is a relationsip)...when two people are close there's bound to be some friction some time or the other. And there's nothing wrong in that. Its natural. It provides comic(if I may say so) relief. It adds spice to an otherwise sterotype relationship. And it keeps us on our toes. And it helps in honing our skill of apologising, appeasing, cajoling, convincing & making up. I think one of the best parts of a fight is the end of it...what is called 'kiss & make up'. Whether you kiss or hug or simply say sorry, getting back together with a smile is a different feeling. The saccharine sweetness mixed with the earlier bitterness and fiery anger gives a heady feeling. The sun is shining bright. The birds are singing again. The world is beautiful once more.

When love is in the air... - Poem

To continue what I said earlier about the connection of thoughts & feelings & mind set...here's another poem. Those in love would probably identify with what the poem says.

When love is in the air…

The sky is more blue
The sun is more bright
The mornings are so fresh
The night’s sublime

The flowers are sweeter
The butterflies more dazzling
The moon prettier
The evening’s velveteen.

The clouds are softer
The river more vibrant
The bees so much prettier
The rains so enchanting.

The stars in the sky have never shined so bright
The waves crashing on the shore are now a joyous sight.
The simple things in life have begun to have more life
I never realised it was such a joy just being alive.

But that is what love does to you
It changes your vision and uplifts your mood.
It adds a lilt to your voice and a skip to your step
Life begins and you never want it to end.

Each day is special, full of moments to cherish
Every minute is different, every hour unique.
There isn’t a moment when there’s no reason to smile
Life’s no more a drag but truly worthwhile.


- Rukma

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Ode to a Mother

It's Mother's day today. So ironic that we need to reserve a day to remember her. The very person who's spent the best years of her life taking care of us.Frankly, according to me this is not in sync with our Indian culture where we worship Mother. Mother is God, 'maatru devo bhavah'. Nevertheless in todays world I guess such a day is required. Anyways, even if we don't need it, the card and gift companies certainly do! Here's something I penned for my Mom...

A doctor at times, a nurse part-time
Healing cuts and mending broken hearts
With caressing kisses and tender embraces.

A teacher so oft, a guide and mentor too;
Helping us sail through the sea of life,
Be it rough seas or times sublime.

Holding my hand, leading me across the street
With her by my side the world seemed to be at my feet.

Staying up nights was a common occurrence-
As I grappled with fever she’d sit by my side
And soothe my frayed nerves with her sweet lullabies.

The lullabies she sang still echo in my heart
Oh, why did childhood have to go by so fast!

Though gentle and unassuming, weak she is not.
Her calmness belies her fortitude, her endurance
As she handles life’s crises’ with quiet forbearance.

The strength beneath the silence
I’ve oft failed to recognize;
Its only now that I’m beginning to see her in true light.

Mother my dearest I want you to know,
You’ve been a better mum than I could ever ask for.
If there’s anyone who’s lacking
It’s only me your daughter, only me your daughter…

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Sunny Sundays

I just love Sundays! And i'm sure most people do. Linger on in bed till late, no brain shattering alarm bells, late breakfast, an even later lunch, afternoon siesta, drive around town or meet up with friends, maybe a dinner out...
Basically relaxing. But what i like most about Sundays is the time with the family. Everyone's home with no hurry about getting anywhere. The kids, all 4 of them, creating a ruckus in unison, the TV vying for our attention...my bros and I lazing around doing..eh..nothing. Dad Mom busy doing..eh..nothing. My SILs hovering around the kids....the dogs doing their bit. All in all a perfectly lovely, noisy Sunny-day!

I wouldn't exchange a Homey Sunday for anything in the world. :) :)