Celebrating life!

Yup, that’s what I want to write about today. But I’m not referring to my ideal guy. I’m talking about an actual male that I know quite well. And yes he is the perfect husband and I think his wife is the luckiest woman on earth. Let me tell you a little about this fella’. He is an absolute charm, so much that I think about him almost everyday since I usually meet him in the mornings. Now don’t get me wrong here – I’m not in love with him. But I still think he is too good to be true. Let me explain why I think he is so esteemed in mine and mom’s eyes. He is first and foremost a perfect gentleman. He lets his wife have her way, most often. Being a gentleman, he always allows her to have the first and best of everything, ladies first being his policy. The other perfect thing about this guy is the way he cares so much about his lady love. Sigh! He completely adores her and thinks the world of her. He doesn’t even want her a second out of his sight- that’s how much he adores her. If s...

Today I will be attending Dr. Elizabeth Kurien aka Ms. Prema’a farewell lunch (for those of you who don’t know her she’s my former teacher at B.C.M., former H.O.D. & much more). I just thought it would be appropriate to pen down (or rather type) some of my reflections on her. For the past six months or more, she’s been the only person persistently insisting I return to B.C.M. again as faculty. Nobody else even seems to think about such a prospect. Perhaps she realized how much some of the girls meant to me. Or maybe she realized that nobody else was bringing in the dramatic changes that I had somehow managed to bring in. Whatever it is, she has been doggedly persistent that I return no matter what, and firmly believes I will be back next year to take the college head on. That’s faith for you. My student recollections though of this persistent person are of a rather different sort. She was one of the quietest people in the department, so quiet that you may not have even noticed sh...

Such a tiny little word only 4 letters, well-balanced – 2 vowels, 2 consonants one syllable that can tear you apart and leave scars that never heal sounding like the wings of a moth at my window as dusk sets in yet with none of the lightness. Fire that scorches as it travels the veins. Scorching memories stab into the wounds a fine mess of feelings and nerves. Tears-> Bruffen to keep the pain down Will time heal? or will it spread like my aunt’s bone cancer? leaving behind a shell coloured pink with streaks of red. (Signalling the return of my poetry)