Of Romance, Hemingway and Padmarajan.

Somehow the thought of romance came up today and I ended up defining romance, for me. And I think romance, for me is wanting; wanting more out of everything - out of life, out of time.

Letting go, wanting the next step in everything, to expect a turn in the road, and not knowing what lies ahead AND wanting to know it;

and going ahead to know it; its that feeling, its the same with love, sex, reading a book, going to a strange place - anything that can capture my mind.

Calling it a thrill would make it sound cheap. It's that feeling that one cannot put into words.

It's also that feeling of letting one thing go to get another; like sleeping the night to wake up fresh; leaving a city for another.

It's that continuous need to move, to evolve, to be infinite.

Thats romance for me - and inherently it's impossible to achieve; like finding a corner of a circle; like finding infinity.

If someone asks me to name one romantic book which I loved - I would say "For whom the bell tolls" by Hemingway. No, it doesn't have a happily ever after.

As for a romantic movie - that would be "Namukku Parkkan Munthirithoppukal" by Padmarajan. Now, that one has a happily ever after.

Vestibule.

At times you bleed,

like a thorn kissed by a finger;

like the knife dipped in ink.

At times you bleed,

like a heart fit for surrender.

Your mind is a shallow pit,

inconspicuous,

yet,

many a thought has tripped over you.

At times you bleed,

like you have always been bleeding.

Dreams.

They came for his dreams that night. He tried to be inconspicuous but they got through his defense. His eyes flashed for a second and then they were gone. And they left him - like a boat anchored in the middle of the sea, with no compass and no wind on its sail.

Pinafore.

That day, she wore a beautiful dress to the church, with red floral patterns. Everyone stared at her; it was not because she was stunningly beautiful, but because it was the first time anyone saw her in anything other than a pinafore dress; and she was sixty three years of age.

Maggie was so happy that day, Mama bought her a new frock. Needless to say, little Angela was furious, she still got her pinafore dress. Mama said - “Angie, you will also get a nice frock from Mama, when you turn sixteen too.”

However, Maggie’s happiness didn’t last much long, they found her body near the woods and she had been brutally raped. Everyone knew who did it, but he was untouchable.

Forty nine years later Angie wore her first frock to the church - for the funeral of the richest and most hated man in town.

Sulphur

How can they do that? How can they destroy an old house to build a newer one, which they think is gonna be better than the old one? How can they be so foolishly ignorant? How can they answer to the pull of nostalgia years later? How can they ever bring down a house only to raise a hoard of bitter sweet memories that is gonna haunt them years down the lane?

Condoms.

All the little babies in the town once decided to go on strike. No more tantrums, no more giggles, no more of those cute baby things. That’s when they invented condoms.

Abracadabra.

Stuck inside a magician’s hat, once lived a little white bunny. All the kids loved him, but he hated it in there. IT was a clumsy place, but what he hated most was that he had to co-exist with a dozen doves, couple of thorny rose bushes and an egg or two among many other knick-knacks. He wanted to be surprised, like those kids were when they saw him. He wanted to run into those lovely looking bushes. He wanted to breathe fresh air.

He waited for his chance to escape. He was very patient and one day he escaped.

And off he ran and ran and ran. Then suddenly an even bigger hand picked him up - and he found himself slowly being raised out of an even bigger hat.