life... sleep... and death.

can i live as peacefully as i sleep? can i sleep as peacfully as people die? written a long, long, long time ago - maybe about 5 to 6 years...

Life is beautiful.

My Credits: Meera’s lists

The distant church chimes, the day’s first tune that you hum, the locked hair in between a hook, the pink tint on the clouds after a sunset, the sweet body ache after a tiring workout, trembling of the hand, the subtle hints in a budding relationship, the creak from a sheave, usefulness of an aglet, lint on washed clothes, the non-committal conversation with a long forgotten friend, the innumerous shades of green in plants and trees, the neatly trimmed coconut leaves,

a supple one year old kid, the moments after a sobbing child sleeps on your shoulder, the comfort in hugging a kid, an awe-inspiring nimble five year old child, the naïve questions of an eight year old, the shyness in an adolescent,

the soothing berceuse in an Ilayaraja’s song, the privacy provided by the headphones, the distinct clarity in the guitar tunes, the mellifluent music from a saxophone, the continuity in flute melodies, the divinity attached to a veenai, the tremor produced by the thumping of drums, the impulsive hum of the next song in your favorite play list,

the million questions after an eerie dream, aroma from the first jasmine flower in the garden, the fine early morning dew on a parked vehicle, the reverberations from a speeding bus felt by the foot, water sprinkled on hot tiles,

the crispness of starched cotton, water droplets on an unused dress, the coziness in a thoroughly used cotton saree, the hand that tries to grip the elusive satin, the firm grip of your terrified friend, the solace of a good friend, unkempt hair after a hair wash, the reminiscences arising after finding a long-forgotten written memoirs of a train trip, the dry dead leaf placed in a book that brings to life the memories related to it,

the hum that arises after hitting a half-filled metal container, the lull after placing your hand on the vessel, agility of water, firmness of ice, the thinness of watermelon juice, the thickness of mango milkshake, the quick moving beach sands under your feet, the hardness of the rocks on a hill,

the neatly arranged toes of the foot, a pen that makes your handwriting legible, the graphite that wanes, the decisiveness arising out of just a few eye glances, the rocking of a train, the straining conversations exchanged on a speeding two wheeler, validating a stranger’s lip movement to the song played in the bus, the rubble from a freshly laid tar road that hits your mudguard,

the discreetness in a mason while mixing cement, sand and water, splitting of bricks with his instrument, the pleasure in curing a constructed wall, the scent and the sound arising while curing, the neatly arranged scaffolds of a building, the evenness indicated by the bubble in a spirit-level, the arranging of the bricks while they are unloaded from the truck, the entire act of transferring the bricks stone by stone,

the serenity of early mornings, the hurried breakfast, the briskness in the later hours of a morning, the essential lunch after starvation, the lazy afternoons, the vibrant evenings, the detached dinner, the peaceful sleep.

How does it feel...

when, you see the crisp leaves of a checkbook that bears your name, you just created an excellent piece of writing, you see a pretty lady and... she takes a really long time to walk past you, you lose your ear to a humorous jingle amidst cacophony, you see a date associated with you that stands as a proof of an enduring relationship, you are acknowledged for an extremely brilliant joke, you understand the intricate meaning behind a word that you mindlessly use everyday, you see something very simple in design that captivates you and fills your senses, you set tears in your friends’ eyes with your joke, you used your discretion to avoid yourself getting into a disaster that was threateningly appealing, you kick a small object that you threw in the air, in your first attempt, you realized that you served yourself the right quantum of side dish, you find an answer to the ‘why-me?’ in your life and prevent it from happening to others, you spot something that others are desperately trying to find, after 15 years of schooling, you tend to choose lighter shades for your work, on a Monday, you see a distress-call mail from your friend 13 hours too late, you look forward for the peaceful sleep, sans the nightmare that has been stinging you for days?

memories...

my headgear lies somewhere on top of a stand, unused and covered up with layers of dust - the smaller specks neatly and comfortably juxtaposed, among the bigger blotches...