The Lost Voice

I can hear a voice. Calling out to me from a distance. The voice seems familiar. I recognize it. The unbridled passion. The unadulterated happiness. The absolute contentment.

The distance. That is something I cannot judge. It seems easy to reach out to. But nearly impossible to cross that distance. A few years probably. A decade, maybe.

The voice is drawing me closer to it, showing me a world that once used to be. The things I used to do. The hours I spent pouring myself into the things I absolutely loved. The moments that consumed me.

I see flickers of that passion now. But mostly embers of what it used to be. How did it come to be this?
Where did I lose myself? At what point did I leave that side of me behind? What am I now? Do I recognize this version of me? What does my passion stand for now? What would you remember me for if you knew me today?

That voice calls out to me again. Shakes me out of my contemplation. I must take action. I must take the first step towards it. What built me once, will build me again. I must create. It does not matter what. As long as I keep creating. And in this process, I shall find me again.


Earth, calling Lucille!

There have been a million times I have felt guilty for letting this blog stay dormant, for the pages to stay barren, for my thoughts – yearning for a chance to be penned down- die a slow, painful, silent death.

What’s my excuse to be away from the one thing that truly drives me?

Busyness. (eeks!)

Maybe the intensity of my desire to write wasn’t strong enough to draw me here.
But today, something, or rather – someone did.

I’m back, and I’m here to stay.

Hello, Lucille!
Welcome back :)
You have been missed, terribly.

A different time!

I’d just clocked in 30 working hours, back to back. Working overnight to meet another impossible Friday deadline. Advertising. That’s all I needed to say, and that sympathetic look would come my way, where people wonder what kind of a lunatic I am to indulge in self-torture of this kind. (I mean, aren’t there other reasons worth killing your sleep for?)

Anyway, I reached home… groggy, smelly, grouchy… mentally, physically and emotionally tired. I took a nice long scented bath, got into a comfortable pair of shorts and tees, and embraced my blankie as the sound of the raindrops outside my window soothed me to sleep!

I knew I was dreaming, I just couldn’t see anything. I heard someone calling my name and woke up with a start! It was my younger sis, all of 2 years, crawling all over my face. I opened my eyes to see her smiling at me. The 5 year old me. My dad was calling out to me. She loved our early morning sessions, where I would tell dad to wake me up at 6.30 am (that’s when TNT would magically transform into Cartoon Network once again!;)
And then, I’d watch all my favourite cartoons, back to back. The Jetsons. The Simpsons. Captain Planet. Tom and Jerry. The Road Runners. The Flintstones. Courage the Cowardly Dog. And slowly, she’d been getting up early with me too.

I smiled at her, rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, uber happy that it was a non-school Saturday. My dad took both of us in his arms and placed us both on the sofa, and switched on the TV. The room was filled with giggles and gurgles, claps and laughs. Dad kept checking on us as he made breakfast. Our ‘cartoon marathon’ was soon over. Dad must’ve realised cos he hadn’t heard out voices for quite some time. He came to the hall and saw the TV on, but our eyes shut. I had rolled over and was resting on the bolster, while she was sleeping right next to me, with her hand over me. Dad smiled, clicked a photo of this moment, and carried us to our beds.

I could feel myself being lifted out of that sofa, and the warmth of my dad’s arms was the best feeling in the whole wide world.

I went back to my dream land. And after what felt like eternity, I heard my name being called out again. I woke up to my reality. My mom was waking me up for a good Saturday lunch. And after that, I sunk into my bean bag and watched an Emmy Marathon of Mad Men, season 7 with my elder sister!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
Topic: ‘Back in Time’. Imagine, one fine day, you wake up as a 5-year-old child and not as a grown up! What will you do then?


BF: do we have to pick between best friend or boyfriend?

I didn’t think there was any truth in the belief that ‘a girl and a guy can never be JUST friends’.

We were inseparable.
We always had something to talk about.
The incessant chatter, the never ending gossip sessions… that zoned out the entire group.
Only we understood each other jokes, completed each other’s sentences.

We were happy in our little world.
Even though the world wanted to label this as something ‘special’

To me, and to his parents,
I was always like the daughter they yearned for.

We happily laughed at how the world was so petty and shallow.
How our friendship was special, because it didn’t follow the typical pattern.

Until one day, that nagging thought finally crept into his mind.
He wondered as to how the WHOLE world saw ‘something’, and we didn’t.
Were we closing our eyes to a possible romance that could be eternal?

He compelled me to think.
And I did, for his sake. For the sake of our friendship.
I was shattered, that he asked me to.
That it came down to this.

There was only one way to know.
I let my imagination come to my rescue.
I closed my eyes and imagined him closing in on my lips.
Just the thought of it repulsed me.
My lips expressed my disgust.

We decided to never talk about it again. And just be friends.
But that was the problem, we were just that. Could we now ever be friends?

An ounce of innocence!

It was Sunday. He wanted to cook his favourite Chicken Lonvas (an East Indian preparation). There, in the sweltering heat, he stood shirtless in his favourite nylon shorts, sweat trickling down his huge belly. Crushed garlic turning brown, onions turning translucent. His senses were indulging in the sights and scents of his culinary skills, it was easy to miss those tiny feet that tiptoed into the kitchen.

She looked on curiously as he stirred his dish with passion, and finally broke the silence.

“What you’re doing, dada?”

“I’m making food beta!”

“Dadaaaaa, I wanted to ask you something. Why is your stomach so big? You have babies inside?”, she asks… stifling her giggles.

He looks down at her, with a straight face. “Of course, you didn’t know?!?”

It was her turn to get serious now.

He nods his head, in a very matter-of-fact manner.

“What rubbish!!!”, she starts giggling again.

“Come here. Put your ears to my stomach. You will hear kittens going ‘meoowww meowww'”, he said.

“Kittens!??” It didn’t take her long to press her ears against his tummy. She giggled as she heard rumbling. And then the mewing.

“Meow… Meow… can you hear it? He asked, with a broad grin.

She knew he was making the sounds. She looked up at him, laughing heartily, amazed at all the crazy things her dad did for her. His eyes crinkle as he takes in the most real, most heart-warming moment he’s had all week.

A kiss to build a dream on!

Your soft kisses left a delicate trail against my skin, and my mind. When I brush my hand against those spots, I can vividly relive those tender moments. Especially that balmy afternoon, that showed me a side of you I’ll never forget!

I loved the way you looked at my neck longingly, like as if you were seeking its permission to conquer it, to consume it. It was yours to take anyway… all yours. Every inch of my flesh quivered under your touch…anxiously waiting to feel your sweet lips work its way on the nape of my neck. And as you began tracing your lovemarks there, your grizzly cheeks complimented your pursuit, as they etched a different story on my skin, sending little shots of delight down my spine!

You started off slowly, afraid that you might break me. Like how a gush of wind might destroy a delicate rose in one sweep. And that’s exactly how I wanted to feel… destroyed, yet secure, in your arms. Only you could make me feel that. Your kissing got stronger, your breathing got harder, creating sweet music in my ears… ah, such sweet music! You wanted more, I wanted more… and it was like you read my thoughts at that instant… cos you caught me by surprise with a slight growl and a quick grab of my flesh between your teeth! “Ouch”, I squealed . I felt your body tensing and that momentary guilty pause… but I egged you on. This could not stop… not now! I felt your smile on my skin, and then, a series of delicate kisses, just to make up for the last one.

You curled your palm around the nape of my neck. Your hands. They made me feel so safe, yet exposed. I couldn’t help but succumb to those unspoken commands. The other one slid down the length of my curvy frame, and settled down on the fleshiest part of my hip! Love handles, they call them. Somehow, even the slightest touch there made me giggle… albeit silently! ;)

I let you take your time on my neck, cos I knew that the best was yet to come. When you had your fill, you’d slowly make your way to my lips, who had been anxiously waiting their turn. And they were doing a number of their own… biting to stifle the moans that were a natural reaction to your touch. Yet, some slipped away and reached your ears, and I noticed how your passion intensified after that! It gave me pleasure to give you pleasure. My delicate moans, your jagged breathing! I completely lost track of myself, where I was! But all I could think about was the impending kiss… my eyes still closed, yet I could feel it. Finally. The moment I’d been waiting for. It was pure ecstasy, as you tugged at my lower lip and sucked on it, taking delight in my strawberry-glossed lips. They parted just for you, and you wasted no time in devouring them. I don’t know how long that lasted for… all I remember was taking a deep, long breath as soon as you set them free!

I finally opened my eyes, and caught you staring at me, enamoured by my aroused state. For a brief moment, you glanced at those lips you just seared your name into. I stared back at yours. They were red. Were mine too? Mine were throbbing. Were yours too? We gazed at each other, amazed at how we lost ourselves in the moment! How long did that last? Were we still on the terrace of the Kala Ghoda Art Gallery, with traffic and people possibly enjoying an art show of a different kind? Did this just happen? Did I really do that? Was this really our first intimate moment?

Your gaze melted my heart, and I just wanted you to grab me and do that all over again. I could do this as long my heart kept beating. Was I really feeling this? I didn’t know what to say. You took my face in your hands, and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead and said, “thank you!”. I let your hands envelop me, and sunk into the warm hug you offered me. I took it all in, all of you…your beautiful body. Your unforgettable scent. Your heart beating right out of your chest. And locked it away in a treasure trove of memories that even time couldn’t take away!

Thank you for crafting a beautiful poem on my body, and etching my soul with a haunting memory of our first kiss. I think I’m beautifully ruined, forever. (And I’m not complaining ;)

My post was selected for the Blogadda Spicy Saturday Picks

Secret Blog Review for Janaki Nagaraj

I love Secret Santa. And when Vinita Bahl announced a blogger version of this popular Christmas game, I was even more excited. But yes, my only regret is that I could not send in my entry before Christmas, and I deeply apologize for not keeping up with the rest of the group. (I am the last person to submit my secret blogger entry :/)

Anyway, we were given names alphabetically and I’m really glad that the name closest to me was someone I have always liked. She looks like Revathi, and writes like Yeats. She is none other Janaki Nagaraj, and she blogs at

She does not need much introduction at all – bloggers, budding poets and authors – everyone knows of her. From poetry to fiction to random musings, from book reviews to blogger meets, from prompts and contests to photo blogs, from guest posts to partnering the High Priestess with Indiblogeshwaris to getting featured in an anthology of poems; she has done it all! One google search on Janaki Nagaraj, and you know that you’re dealing with an online celebrity! Frankly, I was a little intimidated, but more excited to review her blog. Here it goes!

Being a sucker for designs, the first thing I did was judge the aesthetic value of her blog – and it was just like Janaki herself. Quiet, simple, understated yet beautiful, uncomplicated. What you see is what you get. The widgets at the left hand side were minimal and relevant… though I did think that social network plugins would help people connect with her beyond her blog too :)

She loves quotes and poems, and that is evident in almost every post… and the header of her blog too! (this one, I absolutely love!) 

(In case the print is too small:

“In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art.” ― Rumi)

I’ve noticed this about Janaki’s writing style is that she believes in creating intrigue throughout the post and the reveal leaves you craving for more. She does not fall into the trap of writing words that makes one dig out a dictionary after every sentence (ok, there are a few, but it’s worth the effort).  Her writing is simple yet evocative, and she knows how to tell a good story without any additional unnecessary drama that other writers usually resort to. Her settings are usually the ones she is familiar with and her random musings are pleasant and refreshing. Each one of them struck a chord with me! :)

Besides the articles in her archive, I clicked on this tab called Vithika – which states that it is Nidhi’s Photo Gallery. Curious to know more, I scrolled down and found some amazing posts here too. (PS: I figured that she documents her photo blogs under this tab ;)
This is something I am not clear about since I am new to it, but I do think that she features guest posts/ writers that she stumbles upon under the title of ‘inspirations’.
Here are some of my favourite posts from her blog:
With if-you-cannot-understand-my-silence, she manages to bring a sensitive topic out in the open and the conversations in the comments section of this post prove that she manages to connect with her audiences very well. Her writing voices a common sentiment and this is what sets her apart.
Indiblogger, Blogadda, Photokatha, Indiblogeshwaris, Poetry Jam (the list can go on and on…) – Janaki’s presence across blogging networks and other sites is very encouraging and makes me want to get off my lazy ass and be a lil more prompt with my posts (I’ve put that on my 2014 resolution checklist! ;)
Thank you BlogwatiG for this opportunity to review JanakiNagaraj ‘s blog and be her secret blogger elf…  and for reviving my love for poetry (since FYBA literature classes!) :P