Showing posts with label Poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poems. Show all posts

Monday, August 26, 2019

Psychedelic art

Looking out through the window
Her mind draws a blank
She’s overwhelmed
Time is the most precious gift, she knows

You were bent on this for hours
Using your precious tools
Thinking it through
Shaping it one chip at a time

She’s over the moon
Just cannot comprehend
How you could spend so much time
Creating a masterpiece from scratch

Covered in wood shavings
toiling in the confines of an artroom
you put them all back every time
to take it out another day

Numbing her rationale
She’s on a constant high
Like the clean one you get when you smoke pot
That she once heard of

Days after days, for months together
Marking, snipping, shaving, buffing, drilling,
Embossing, painting, carving, shedding blood
But most importantly, thinking it through

And the fancy wood chime blew her away
You could sweep her off her feet
Completely hypnotize her
And you leave her with this one question

What has she done to deserve this?
To be made to feel so special
And while floating up in the clouds
She wonders how to repay this destiny’s debt.

Vincy Joseph

Monday, March 25, 2019

What does Love feel like?


Love feels like
Those twinkling eyes
Full of mischief
Waiting to receive me

Love feels like
The bags of medication
You pick up 
When you get to know, am ill

Love feels like
Taste of Betadine
That is used to gargle 
When my throat is sore

Love feels like
All those little white lies
Which you utter
and we both know what they are

Love feels like
Sitting beside you
And looking out of that window
Into nothing specific, may be just a dump yard

Love feels like
That soft call in the middle of the night
When I have slowly gathered
The entire bedspread to my side

Love feels like
That voice that tells me
You snored but I am okay with it
When I know how you hate it

Love feels like
You waking up
At the slightest noise
When I come into the room

Love feels like
The gleam on your face
When you see the sparkle of my pendant
at the breakfast table

Love feels like
That touch of your palms
On my aching back
When I complain of pain

Love feels like
All the little things you do
To put a smile on my face
Without expecting anything in return

Saturday, March 23, 2019

The final blow


You drew memories in my mind
I could never erase
You painted colors in my heart
I could never replace

I didn’t see this coming
But you knew all along
Nudging me to get there
Inch by inch

How could you roll up all those little punches
Into one massive blow
Tossing me into infinite numbness
Breathless, Worthless

Our pacts forgotten
Winning hands down
Willing to let go
Tumbling the crazy hormones out of control

Well timed, well aimed
Murderous, monstrous
Lethal
The final blow.

Wednesday, January 23, 2019

Magic


The mesmerizing voice slowly
Builds up the adrenaline rush and
Gets her heady
Burst of magic comes alive in her

The walls built over a period of time
Sluggishly cease to exist
And she pours out all that is in her heart and soul
Working up the charm of a little girl that once she was

The voice has dwindled
She only has the letters now, and scarce
Pieces of her heart tucked into words
That she could never say out aloud

The summery perfumes of March pained her
Made her feel like an infinitesimal being
Drunk with a starry void
Dark and tormented, furor of passion.

Ray was what she was called
She was a ray of sunshine with a radiating smile
Her love was pure, golden, but limited
Always doomed, to expire

Vincy Joseph

Friday, January 11, 2019

Grief


After the initial brutal shock of loss
It creeps in slowly
In waves, maybe
And in the most unsuspecting ways

Ambushes while driving alone in the car
While in the shower engulfing the soul 
While getting ready to work
Amidst all the people around you

A picture, a place, a scent and some memories
Or a voice
All of a sudden hits you
How so very much you miss someone

Your breath catches
Tears roll down the cheeks
The sadness is so humungous
That its almost physically painful

Grief is living two lives
On the outside you pretend all is well
In the other, in solitude
the heart screams in pain

Vincy Joseph
5th Jan 2019

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Elixir


As she  closed her eyes
She soared to the heavens
Like a midnights’ dream
And It altered everything forever

Something in her perished and
Something else came alive
Could it still have been a dream?
That she conjured up in blazing fever

She is petrified one moment
Exhilaration takes over the next
It stirs and surges through her
And she asks herself - Am I insane?

The ghosts in her head wake up
Dance around triumphantly
And relentlessly torment her being
The once clear mind now held captive in quagmire

Fear and confusion mucks her thoughts
Monologues in her head continue to frighten
And she teeters aimlessly with no end in sight
Did she  give you the power to destroy her?

Amidst all this pandemonium
In the deepest, darkest, most naked corner of her soul
There’s a sweet melody, like the energising elixir of universe
A fairy tale lie, more than love, a muse.

Vincy Joseph

Glad tidings


No I haven’t forgotten my blog-space.  Always been there in the back of my head.  So many stuff I wanted to share in this space.  I took on more than I could chew and had my fingers in many pies.   Oh, I should admit, Life has been interesting after all.

There have been great milestones I have crossed, ticked off items in my bucket list, done stuff I never thought I would ever ever do and I am on a roll.

I want to actually start off from November where I got into Theatre – yesssss.. you heard it right.  I participated in a Theatre workshop that was conducted by EVAM, (My friend TMK is part of this Theatre company and it suited my schedules).  The workshop itself was 2 days long and the batch had to work on  putting up a public show, and the participants had to do everything right from booking an auditorium, arranging light and sound, stage set up, marketing and PR, sales and of course act in the play.  We had audience who paid for our show, and we had a full house at Alliance Francaise theater hall at Chennai.  Our group called ourselves Theatre brats and our play was titled “ 7 Tales at 7”.   We as a group put up 7 short plays at 7 pm on 9th of December last year.  Woo- Woo!!!  Today when I look back it sounds like outlandish dream. Ahh that reminds me there were some more dream come true moments.

If my life was not already hectic, this whole thing just complicated it further.  With a full time job, managing a house, and a whole lot of commitments including  catechism classes at church and other volunteering activities I am into, going for play rehearsals every day, was a challenge.   Looking back, I guess I could manage it, and we had a magnificent  show day. 

I want to tell you all the little things I enjoyed during the workshop, the rehearsals and the show day.  One day I will. 

The babes, my girlfriends and I had a nice trip this year to the mesmerizing land of gods, Bali.  We all fell heavily for Bali, the temples, the Gods, the unsophisticated loving people, the serene village settings,  the vast blue oceans and even the ghastly looking  Ogoh-Ogoh’s.  I know you wont know what an Ogoh Ogoh is, but I promise to explain.

But before I tell you my unending stories, let me wish you all a happy new year and good tidings for the rest of the year. ( I must be the only crazy soul, who wishes people happy new year mid April  :-) )

Friday, March 10, 2017

Letting go, yet again

 In the earlier post I mentioned about letting go off the land beneath my foot and armed with that confidence, and overwhelmed with what I had just accomplished, we were herded to the next stop into yet another motor boat by our guide Lilly.
 
It took another 30 minutes to reach the next boat close to a small patch of reef that fringes Coral Island called the Koh-Lam in Thai. We all had signed up for the underwater sea walk, purely intrigued by the idea and Lilly handed us over to our new guide, an Indian who was multilingual. A well-built Indian who could speak in broken English, Hindi and Thai language (for the benefit of few south Asians who were with us).
 
He assumed all of us can understand Hindi, and though not very versatile with the language (shame on me), I managed to figure out the instructions he gave. Jay, having been brought in the north chipped in and helped. With all seriousness he gave us the instructions and with all our might we listened to him. I listened out of sheer fear. I was not comfortable with water and the awesome looking blue blue aquamarinish water didn’t look all that great, the moment he was saying you will all go under water and remember you cannot speak under water, so you need to know how to communicate.

We were given black gloves and he explained the whole process of communicating with our hands. He also assured that we need not necessarily know swimming for this activity. Quite a breather that one was. He further assured, all the better if you didn’t know swimming. You only have to sink in the water. Made a note to myself, Learn Swimming.
 
Communication.. Sounds pretty simple for someone who does that for a living. (Me) But under water communication?? the few butterflies that I had when I went for parasailing, multiplied manifold suddenly that they didn’t have space in my tummy to fly. I was desperately trying to hide my fear. The breeze that was blowing was making us feel cold and I found myself trembling. Difficult to say if it was the chillness or if it was the fear. But company the of four helped. We laughed and joked and took pictures (yeah we never missed that one).
 
Here we had to climb down from a platform on the boat, to metal stairs that went into seawater, like the ones that you see in swimming pools. When water is at your chest level, they instruct you to walk on one strip of metal to the guy who holds a heavy white coloured astronaut like bubble helmet. The bubble helmet is connected to a tube that in turn is connected to the oxygen tank, so that we get a constant supply of oxygen and also stops the seawater ingressing into the helmet.
 
I was second in the line, and as per instructions given, after the first person goes down, the divers on board would place the bubble on my head. And that moment I have to let go of my hands from the steel bars that I was holding onto. My biggest doubt was, if I will let go. I told myself, its too late now to back off, all others are doing it, none of them know swimming and there are scuba divers down there to help.
 
Then it happened. The bubble was placed on my head and I just let go. Yeah I did. First time ever I went underwater, followed the instruction of the Indian guide who told us to swallow saliva to maintain the air pressure and I was kind of fine. I kept going down until my feet touched the fine coral of the sea bed. I could see the first guy who was the only guy with our four member team, down there and I frantically held on to his hand. Tightly. I was floating and my feet would not stay firm on the sea bed. 

Have I made a wrong choice of opting into this adventure sport?
Did I pay for my own funeral in Thai bhats?
Will I die under water? Will I make it back home?
What if the water gets above the chin, after all, the distance between the chin and the nose is just a couple of inches.
If I am struggling for breath and what if none of scuba divers see?

Questions to myself and my initial thoughts under water.

By then a scuba diver held my legs and steadied it on the sea bed. The water pressure makes it unable to stand still and gives a feeling of floating. Like air pressure, realised the prowess of water pressure too. I repeatedly try and steady myself. In a few minutes all seems well.
 
I saw Jay coming down and holding my left hand. Relief writ large on my eyes, we could see eye to eye. A diver came in front of me and checked if all was okay. I communicated correctly, remembered my sign language and showed him the correct sign.
 
I could see Jay had some trouble with the air pressure and the body guard helping her. She is being steadied too. I didn’t let go of the grip of my right hand. Jay was holding my left hand. Things were falling in place. I could see a reef in the sea bed, fishes swimming a little far away. I could see the sea bed, and the divers clearly and a lot of organisms which I could not identify. We have seen these so many times in Discovery channel and didn’t give two hoots about what grit it involves.

Then the show begins. One of the divers comes close to me and pulls my hand and saves the first guy from my vice-like grip. He must have felt so relieved. He handed all of us a piece of bread and almost magically, a huge school of fish comes to feed from our hands. The fishes are just inches away from the helmets. Some are small, some big and all are colourful.
 
The fishes are cautious, hesitant but like us they are driven by the strength of a group. They are also smart and sometimes peck my fingers and it all feels so good. Some fishes are touching my legs too. I dare not look down as we were instructed not to bend down or look up. We can only look sideways through the bubble helmet. For the time being I enjoy the tingling feeling when the fishes brush past you. We are allowed to touch pieces of live coral and the whole thing is a fine display.
 
I cannot believe myself. I am amazed at what I am doing underwater walking on the south Asian sea bed. Fear takes a back seat (not completely vanished though) and I take in all that I can see through my helmet. The divers are hovering around.
 
We should have been there for 20 minutes. And we hear a long tap on metal from up above. The divers come for us and help us go up to the stairway that seems to hang in water. As I come out, the bubble is removed from my head and not a drop of water above my chin.
 
Four of us laugh, dance, chatter and rejoice – this was the best experience of our trip. The waters looked Cobalt blue now, fear replaced with ecstasy and the magic returns.

Letting go helped.

Post Script:
We had paid up for under water photographs, but particular day, there was some technical snag with the camera and they couldn’t give us our photographs under water.

Thursday, December 01, 2016

Emotional Chaos


When the sky is gloomy, dark with thunderclouds
Simple conversations with you were my solace
You were my sky full of stars
And a heart full of hope

Like a bird clipped of its wings
Land devastated after a Tsunami
Dense bushes after a forest fire
You have left me with a tattered soul

Memories surprise me with their lightning bolts
Hiding in the shadows and pouncing unexpected
They knock me out and stop the world around me
And shatters the rhythm of my ordinary life’s magic

Lyrics have a completely different meaning now
Shards of glass pierce and shred me
I cannot fathom which I am missing the most
the best friend in you or my solace of a rainy day?

How could we harm our friendship?
Head bowed in shame, I know not what to do
Unable to look at my eyes in the mirror
I loathe myself.

Breaking inside every moment
burying myself in guilt, Insanity grips me tight
In the confines of my loneliness, I scream in silence
While images of a happy decade fade into oblivion.

Vincy Joseph

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Stalker


You hover around silently but deliberately
Rarely making your presence felt
This is certain though
That you will get to me some day. 

Do you spare anyone at all?
But alas like everyone else, I move on
Flouting you in my ignorance
Even when you take hold of others 

You can touch me anytime
As time speeds on as usual
Every day is a step closer to you
Do I even fathom  this ? 

I think of you, my friend
Often these days
I don’t know why
Making me pray for an easy transition 

Your cover now is intact, the mask in place
The quiet predator is on the prowl
An universal truth, yet a mystery
But one day, the cover will be blown!!
 
Vincy Joseph

Tuesday, February 03, 2015

Solitude

Serenity is thy name
you provide companionship with my own insignificant self
helping me to cherish my own company
an opportunity to belong to myself
with my own thoughts
I exist in the depths of my solitude
dreaming awake
truly living the moments that I want
 
Thy name is bliss
Strength is what I derive to go on in life
when I get time to spend in perfect solitude
million conversations with myself
with no fear of being judged
contemplating the known and the unknown of my mind
Solitude, I submit myself
unto you, and Implore to seek me often.

Thursday, May 02, 2013

Six Months!!!

I close my eyes every evening for prayer
Your face comes to my mind
especially when I say the prayers for dear departed
I never miss to tell God about you.

The pain is still fresh, the wounds are raw
and I miss you ever more each passing day
The lump in my throat, when I think of you
does seem to choke me somedays.

You loom large in my best childhood memories
and I feel not many can fathom my loss
the love is deep, the yearning to hold your hands even more
but with you, these are buried.

Why didnt I spend a week with you,
during all those summers when you were alone?
What stopped me from pushing everything else
and coming to you to watch  that wondrous glee?

I hate to step into that house, that I once loved dearly.
Coz when I run in screaming  "Ammmaame..."
you will not be there to ask me " Ethiyo?"
and I wont have anyone to hug and kiss.

Its six months today that you left us
and when I reach there, an empty house will welcome me
but I have a different place to go now.
I will see you at your new home - your Cemetry.

Love you Ammama,
Vincy.

Sunday, February 03, 2013

When did you grow up?


School bag slinging on your shoulders
You call out “Bye ma, Bye Pa”, every busy morning
I feel my heart walk out of me
Behind you, to make sure you are protected.

I see time slipping through my fingers
My little one stands taller than me today
A fine young man in the making
Like his father, maybe.

Your smiles welcomed me home as a toddler
Hugs and kisses and the need to be in my arms
Talking dime a dozen and wrecking havoc
With all the hyperactivity of a dynamite

It broke my heart to let you sleep alone
And it shattered me when you told nightmares
About the dark man in the corner of your room
Dragging your Pink Panther along in the middle of the night.

Homework, projects, studies, exams
Tennis, swimming, Karate, Cricket, falls from bicycles
Cuts, bruises, mischief, friends, crushes and our little conversations
I didn’t realize the years roll by

Today, I melt at the sight of you help me carry heavy stuff
Or when you put a protective hand around when we walk together
And when you ask, you want any help, Mamma?
Do you see me momentarily frozen in time?

In a couple of months’ from now
You will grow out of that school uniform too
And I am still wondering stupidly
When did you grow out of my arms?

Vincy Joseph

Saturday, February 02, 2013

Mindless Prattle

I cannot perceive with any certainty
The frequency of your calls
that you make erratically, once in a blue moon

While I want to squeal in childlike happiness, I act casual
As if its just another random call
Although, its the most important one of all

Your voice is invariably calming
Sound of your laughter, my best medicine
And I value you immensely.

I hang on to every word, every sound
Like a rappeller hanging onto the rope
For it makes the difference of his life and death

I am heedful of every word that escapes me
For you are one who’d catch the simplest nuance
And have the ability to get under my skin

It’s all in the mind
And I end up cherishing
Even the silence in our conversations.

In spite of all precautions,

I plunge into mindless prattle
Capitulating to my vulnerability
and you catch me at unexpected moments

Yet, I may not utter any of these in our conversations
Lest I may unleash the sprite in you
And your devilry would be too complex for me to handle.

Vincy Joseph

p.s This poem is dedicated to a close friend, who is a busy entreprenuer, a globe trotter, someone who is a online social networking recluse.  My telepathy with this friend, surprises me to no end. :-)

Friday, November 02, 2012

One last time

Finally,
I had to make that trip
that I had dreaded all along
to my beloved ancestral home
One last time.

To see you
Sans smile, Sans warmth
Sans movement,
Sans that rare flash of memory
A lifeless body.

Rest in Peace, Ammama
In your new abode.

Yealikutty Augusty ( 1918 - 2012 )


P.S: My Mom's Mom, Ammama, passed away today, 2nd November 2012. Please do pray for her souls repose.

Saturday, October 06, 2012

Letting go!

I look at the vanishing moon
Amidst all the stars
In the night sky sprayed with them
And am reminded of our friendship

Do you realize it hurts
To remember there was a world
That was just ours
The conversations, fun, pranks and laughter

I know you are moving away
Slowly yet steadily
Intuitively I realise
I am allowing it to happen

Its not easy for me
To let go of you, my friend
You have given me so many memories
To cherish. But yet

I will continue to let the drift happen
Cos if you do not belong to me
Its better to let go
Than to pin you down.

Just want only the best for you
to be happy wherever you are
And if you really belonged to my world
I know you would be back.

Vincy Joseph

Friday, August 10, 2012

An ode to my Big Mamma

My mom’s mom, who is called Ammama by all the 13 grand children ( their spouses, wherever applicable) and 4 great grand children is a very important part of my life and is a central focus of my childhood memories.

She is 93 years old and lives with her son’s family. I dedicate this poem to her and her perseverance.

Holding on to your little finger
I have roamed around the ancestral home
I remember the strong hands, smell of soil,
the hugs, love, care, concern and
most of all the treats to my palate
with your simple yet amazing culinary abilities.

You gifted me my best childhood memories
of Joy, happiness, safety and warmth
in my truly nascent years
along with those countless happy
and carefree days of pure bliss
that’s an inseparable part of my Summer holidays.

You could understand my need, my worry
my happiness and all my myriad set of emotions
as a teenager, just from my voice and
you disciplined me in your old conservative ways.
Even when I rebelled against them
you loved me unconditionally.

When I grew up to my big day, my wedding,
you were there to bless me with the priceless
gift of your presence
never forgot to get back to me
to nurture me during my gestation
and for post natal care.

You embraced my better half
with a love that he had never experienced
making him part of your brood in no time.
When my son was growing up
you showered the same love,
you once smothered me with.

Today, I look into your eyes to draw a blank.
You do not recognize me, my voice.
I still hold your hands
I still talk to you,
silently cursing the demon Alzheimer’s
That is slowly but steadily devouring you

But then,

Just, once in a while,
I see a spark in your eyes
And I instinctively know for that split second
You know who I am
And I can go on for ages talking to you & waiting
for that one flash of a moment.

Love you Ammama, Loads and loads.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Tears

They threaten to peep out
Uncontrollably. Any moment.
Got to remind them relentlessly
They are precious expressions
Not to be wasted on inane stuff
 
They retreat without a trace
Leaving their sting of saltiness
on a open raw wound
I nurse the throbbing wound
In realization, its not easy to heal
 
Pain, now is soothing
‘cos it is better than dignity besmirched
One day in the future, a zillion stings later
The wound will begin to heal
Time, unmistakeably, is a great healer
 
Till then
Silent. Forlorn. Wounded.
I continue persistently
to give lessons in obedience
To my precious tears.

Vincy Joseph

Monday, July 02, 2012

Alone in the woods

The road is winding and long
And I see as far as my eye can see
I am alone with no one around
loneliness pricking into my bones.

I am still trying to enjoy the walk
Hoping someone ostensibly caring
And so full of love
Will come along the journey

Is it too much
to ask for kindness and care
Someone who would really
Be there for support

Every question has an answer
And every answer shreds the heart
Into a million pieces and
Its obvious you don’t care anymore.

Shrapnel of words
Destroying all that comes its way
Hits in disbelief, disdain
Leaving just an image without a soul

Wish you could see the pain
Behind every action and smile
Worser still is the fact that
You never look at my eyes

Makes me want to run for cover
Hide from the world
Close my eyes and get into a slumber
But I know

The road is winding and long
And I see as far as my eye can see
I am alone with no one around
loneliness pricking into my bones.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Wicked Joy of having women friends !

A TON is always special.  This is my 100th post and just as the number suggests a special one.

Having been brought up in a metro, (Chennai is definitely a metro, folks) as a person I do have as many men friends as women friends. I was raised in a suburb in Chennai where there was no dearth for families of my own community and having lived with a large set of second cousins and distant relatives only helped foster these friendships. Today some of my best friends are men with whom there is a bond that dates back to childhood and those growing up juvenile years and memories of those days still bring nostalgia. While I studied in an all Girls school and later all Women’s college and the first two years of work (what a ridiculous fate?) were with women, I never felt funny or inhibited to strike a conversation with a boy (those days) or men because of my background and upbringing. Though today I might not be in constant touch with all those so called “men” friends ( in my mind, I realize with these close friends there’s no such distinction) we all can just pick up conversations from wherever, and move along.

A couple of months back, I was going for a funeral and wanted to know the exact location of the church, ( hubby dear gets worked up if he does not have the right directions, or worse still he will stress me out) and was wondering who would know and instantly this childhood friend flashed up in my mind and I knew he lived there. I didn’t even have to think twice, when I had to dial his number and imagine I had not spoken to him for more than 6 months and we could go ahead with a conversation as if we were talking to each other almost every day. Am making a mental note now to call him coz this reminds me I haven’t called him after that :-) The point is with close friends most of us are comfortable regardless of their gender – that’s why they are our best pals right?

Ever noticed I am writing something tangentially opposite to the blog topic that I start – its becoming a habit. Mental note two. Stick to your topic when you start one.

Okay folks this blog is about Women friends – the kind that I have befriended at my earlier workplace and today most of us work in good positions in different organisations. And that’s a pure “women only group” and does not deserve to be trivialized just because we are wicked to each other.

If I were to record our everyday lunch sessions those days that would be great fodder for interesting blog posts every single day and that would be like leading myself to the gallows straight - With all the information and fun going public in a virtual platform. One of the things that each one of us in the group miss these days in our current workplaces, is the lunch sessions laced with entertainment, torrents of laughter, liberal dose of movie dialogues, lots of sarcasm, pun and of course delicious home made lunch from many homes.

On days when there are no incidents that would bring in laughter from outside our group, or when we do not have enough “matter” to strip some of the folks with whom we used to work then, of their trousers, the group directs its energies on one its members and we do not even spare our spouses, children, relatives and even our extended support systems. I (in fact, almost everyone in the group) have been victim of this group-directed-humor many times and any attempts of mild disapproval to the comments will elicit more damage than before, leading to the group’s general sense of cheap gratification. We are so professional otherwise, the lunch room kind of transforms us, into these wicked avatars, squealing in laughter like school girls and unleashing our potential to tickle up our funny bones. I guess that was a great stress buster for all of us.

Another interesting part of our lunch then was the fact that we ate from any lunch box that anyone brings in and we do not stick to strictly our own boxes. It became such an habit that I ( and of course the others in the group) never feel complete when we do not dig our hands into someone else’s plate during a meal, be it at home, office or a five star restaurant. Not too late to pick some good habits(?) if you had not picked them when you were much younger, eh?

The funniest part was that a normal incident that anyone told will be subjected to an extremely wild outrageous imagination, surreptiously flavored with enough spice and will be narrated during the lunch time with so much deliberation, natural flow, and right amount of collateral damage that it sounds completely believable even for the person who narrated it in the first place and after a while everyone ( including the person who narrated it) remembers only the contrived version and not the original one.

One incident I remember dating back to 2005 was the one connecting me and my travel agent. Joe then was in Manila on an assignment and Dennu and I were to join him there for a month long holiday and I was working with this guy named “Salaam” I do not remember his full name or his travel agency’s name. There were a whole lot of issues in my travel because the Filipinos thought I am a potential settler there and were refusing my Visa and I had to interact with Salaam every day. Mind you I have not seen Salaam even once till date. Two of the women friends from the lunch group sit next to me and with the high decibel levels that I speak normally, there is no need for them to eavesdrop at all and after a month’s conversations with Salaam, this topic started surfacing in our lunch meetings – I got royally ragged along with Salaam, whom none of us have seen, and that poor chap was pulled into every conversation and the group came to a conclusion that even if I do not make it to Manila, I have become good enough to write a book titled “Njanum Ente Salaamum” (the title roughly translates to “Me and my Salaam” only that it sounds a little intimate in a regional language), which would easily be a best seller. I never ended up going to Manila, my Visa was rejected finally and we had to settle down for a shorter holiday at Singapore and Malaysia. The group still remembers this book ( see its as though I have written this book) and almost every incident around this after so many years.

There was one person in our group though, who was not very fluent in the regional language and she got lost many times during the conversations that we had, but nevertheless would pick up pieces and tag along with our conversations at right intervals. Sometimes she used to stop us and ask for translations and we realize her inability to follow supersonic speed delivery of regional language dialogues with various connotations from real life, imaginary and from movies and bring her to speed.

Take for incidence a simple conversation that I had with my maid – she was at my flat then. I was instructing her in Tamil to bring down all the curtains and show the tailor, who would come home, for some rework. But later I realized I missed some vital points for my listeners in the next bays. And I was saying “Sulaiman varuvaaru, neenga ellathayum kazhattittu avarukku kaatidunga” which roughly translates to “Sulaiman will come, you remove everything and show him” – I cannot forget how I got blown to shreds for this piece of dialogue thoughtlessly said over phone. The maid understood what I had to say but this group of so called friends indulged in Distortion, disrespect and downright torture. They can be ruthless ( most of the times). And we laughed about it until it actually hurt..

The best part was we had nick names for most people with whom we interacted at office ( other than the group members ourselves) and we were so deft with these names, that anyone else in the room might not even understand the references let alone our sarcasm. We still continue to refer some people with those titles even today, though we do not work with them now.

The dramatization, humor, right references and the accompanied sound effects makes any conversation hilarious. One of the WW ( wicked women) was explaining something she saw at someone’s home or I don’t remember where.. the conversation went like this “ She has big big..” and there was a undue pregnant pause at the wrong moment. The entire group then came forward, all eyes popping out, and in chorus said “ hmm….. big, big whaaaaat” and the person explaining the actual thread of conversation looks very blank at the entire group and says “Ammies” (grindstones). The Chorus then says.. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…. We thought something else.. and there was this high pitched laughter…..whole conversation is dissected and references are made which we cannot forget even today.

One character which got crucified in our conversations those days was a person called CSN. He used to sit in the far end of our wing in the same floor as ours and in a cabin. In fact, he had the corner most cabin in our floor and we do not meet him at all. A very senior person both in age and in position.

Being a “women only group” we notify each other of any interesting “Sale ” that happens around town, at the most trivial opportunity we go out for lunches (our office was centrally located close to shopping malls and restaurants then), and we have even gone for a movie once.

A benevolent member of this group announced the sales at “Naidu hall” - NaiHaa as it is called now is famous for its lingerie collection. And there was a particular brand that a couple of them had picked up and was heavily recommended to the others in the group. I was the only one who could not make it to the sales and that day being the last day of the sales had to leave a little early to catch the sales. But as I was going out of my bay I realized I haven’t told my buddies that and I called out to them “ am going to pick Loveable Acoba”, knowing fully well that none sitting in the other bays will make out what it is. The next day’s lunch topic was how even CSN heard about the sale at Naidu hall (thanks to my decibel levels) and he picked up Loveable Acoba for his family. And our group had this special ability to build on imaginary conversations and make it sound so real… See, how people in no way connected to us, get pulled into our conversations and become an integral part of it?

Recently one of the WW happened to meet CSN in a train, and she couldn’t help laughing because the first thing that came to her mind was “Loveable Acoba”. CSN is a senior head within the organisation and he was very “ matter-of- fact” with this friend of ours and was a little suspicious about the overfriendliness of our friend and must be wondering the reason behind her extra dose of smile.

Today as I mentioned we are in different parts of the globe, in different organisations doing very well but can pick up wickedness where we left if only we can set our eyes on each other, with no less sarcasm and fun in all our conversations. We get to meet each other rarely these days, but if we meet it would be ruckus and fully loaded with fun. God save the souls around us then – we are completely oblivious to anything else.

I sent a picture of my session that I conducted recently announcing to my ex-lunch friends about it and look at the instant responses from three of them.. ( It is important to read it with all the background effects explained earlier)

Response 1: Objection your honor…. Naduvulae irukkara oru vella thols mattum unna paakkaamae vaera engayooo moraikkurraar… how dare…. I’m sure you would have taken some penalty from him… correettaaa… (translation of the regional language bit – the one white person in the centre is not looking at you and is staring elsewhere )
Response 2 : How many AICs ( L2 / L1 Heads ) “Bracketed” so far? Pl update the status :-) :-)
Also how dare to take this snap from long shot…..pl. publish another tight close up snap. :-)

Response 3 : Very impressive .... get them closer to you.. Warmer feel !!! :-)))

Needless to say, I had a mighty laugh and this post is a dedication to the wicked Joy of having women friends and the ethereal connect of our minds, pure fun and laughter that we evoke in each other :-) May our tribe increase !!