My First Quote!

"Life is often like a Poem; when you begin to perceive it, it ends. But the lucky thing is, every end is a new beginning!" - My First Quote Ever
"Life is too precious to be just hanging around in it, too good to be just sleeping through most of it, and too passionate to be just thinking about it...... So, I WRITE..." ~ Sana Rose

October 29, 2010

The Surprise Gift ~ A Story

Cat’s urine had the worst smell in the world, as far as little Anna was concerned. She had discovered it by accident. That was what she claimed. And that was what she told at least five times a day. About that, she was adamant than about anything. And she thought she felt older when she voiced it. Her eloquence was such when she narrated her accident.

“Mama…. Mama….” she began.
No response.
“MAMA!” she cried impatiently.
“Yes, Anna,” her mother sighed, equally impatient. “Isn’t it bedtime for you yet?”
Anna nodded pouting at her mother.
“Yes, Mama, but you know, Mama, there was a lot of that in the cupboard under the stairs!” She at once became enthusiastic and animated. “I accidentally had it on my hand when I took my old shoes. I vomited throughout the day!” She said for the umpteenth time.
Anna’s mother rolled her eyes in disbelief. Anna!
“Mama, when will Papa come?”
“He’ll be late, honey,” Mother said. “You can tell him tomorrow about it.”
“Yes,” Anna nodded, “Tomorrow is good.”
“Now, off to bed, Anna,” her mother gestured.

Anna looked beseechingly at her mother. But then she left to her tiny bedroom.
Anna was lonely. Too lonely than a five year old should be. Her mother’s works were never-ending. Her father was always late. And Jerry was her only friend, whom she hadn’t allowed near her after her ‘accident’. She viewed him from a safe distance, though she knew he missed her. And she also knew Jerry was a mouse. Tom was the cat. But she thought Jerry was clever. Tom was stupid. But her cat was clever. So she had to call him “Jerry”. She wouldn’t let anyone change it.

Tomorrow proved to be no good. Anna fiddled with her spoon in the cereal bowl at the breakfast table.
“Papa, I want to tell you something,” she said hoping he wouldn’t say she could tell him the next day.
He didn’t of course. He didn’t say, “Tomorrow, Anna.”
Instead he smiled and glanced at his watch.
“Next Sunday, my little girl,” he said.
Anna’s face fell.
“I am not a little girl,” she said. She wanted to reject everything he said. She jumped down from her high chair and strode out of the dining room.
“Anna, finish this!” Her mother’s voice followed her.
“Jerry will like it!” she called out back.
She felt betrayed. Mama and Papa didn’t agree that cat’s urine had the worst smell in the world, she thought. But that was the truth! She was sure of that.
But anyway, she waited for the next Sunday. Because she had to tell it to Papa anyway. And she bounced out to the dining room early on Sunday morning.
“Mama! Where is Papa?” She asked in her sing-song squealing girlish voice.
“Happy Birthday, Anna!” Her mother smiled and gave a peck on her cheek.
“Happy Birthday?” Anna asked.
“Yeah, you turned five today”.
“I forgot”, said Anna.
“But you didn’t know!” her mother laughed. Anna had never cared to count the days and dates till now.
“I know!” Anna said. “I’m a big girl now.”
“Okay, here comes Papa.”
Papa was carrying a large package wrapped in Anna’s favorite color, Pink. He wished her and said he was going to give her the gift. She stared with wide eyes, hoping it wasn’t a big cat.
She tore the wrappers and found a big box. Suddenly she remembered something else and smiled up at her father.
“Papa, I want to tell you something,” she said. “You said next Sunday and I waited.”
Her mother rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time. Papa sat down on a chair and raised Anna to his lap.
“Papa, I was looking for my old pink shoes in the cupboard under the stairs. And then -”
But she was interrupted by her mother.
“Look, Anna, what Papa bought you!”
“What?” she asked sharply looking at her mother.

Her mother held a large pink teddy bear that was just as big as Anna herself. She hopped down from her Papa’s lap and squinted at the teddy bear.
It was light pink in color and had black round eyes that looked beadily at her. Its fur was shining and she reached out and touched it gingerly and drew back at once. It was really soft. Softer than Jerry’s fur. It had a round nose, also black. Its belly was white. Its ears were round and had white at the center. Yes, she liked its ears.

“Do you like it?”
“Not much,” she replied, studying it carefully. “Does it talk?”
“No, but you talk enough for two people,” her mother replied.
But Anna didn’t understand what her mother meant and nodded seriously. “But it listens,” her mother added.
“I like its ears,” she said. “It’s round and cute.”
Her father chortled. “Yes, yes…”
“I like its ears,” she repeated. “So I must like it, if I want to like its ears.”
Her parents exchanged a glance, wondering how they had managed to make such a rebelliously thinking daughter.
“I am glad you like it,” her father said getting up.

She nodded as she pulled its fluffy arm and she lifted the pink teddy bear in her arms. She sniffed its fur. It smelled new. “I like its ears,” she said again.
Then on, Teddy bears had the cutest ears in the world and she was adamant about it.
***
As Anna sat in the waiting lobby at the arrivals section in the airport, she thought of Cyril with a dreamy smile. She couldn’t think of Cyril without thinking about his ears. They were cute and round. She didn’t know anything that was cuter than Cyril’s ears. She tapped her high heeled foot on the floor and anticipated the moments when she would tell him the happy news that was going to make him practically twirl on his toes after three months away from her. She had been saving the news.
Anna had counted the days for three months and a week exactly.
One night when Cyril had called, she had said:

“I’ve a surprise gift for you, my Teddy bear.”
“What?” he asked.
“That’s a surprise, Teddy bear,” she chuckled.
“Okay, there’s a surprise gift for you, too, then,” Cyril said lovingly.
“Hmmm…” she hummed in delight.
***
That night, as Anna sat cuddling in Cyril’s arms, she couldn’t stop smiling.
“Give me my surprise gift,” Cyril whispered.
“You have to wait,” she said. “Give me mine.”
He pulled out a large box from under the bed and placed it beside her. “You told me first.”
“Okay,” she took a deep breath, “We are going to have a little Teddy bear.”
Cyril wrapped his arms around her at a loss for words. Anna tore open the wrappers but was stopped.
“Wait,” Cyril said. “Why do you call me a teddy bear?” he asked.
“Because you have cute round ears,” she said. The answer was quick.
“Open it,” he urged.

She did so and gasped before laughing. A pink teddy bear stared innocently at her. Teddy bears still had the cutest ears in the world. And so did Cyril.

First Prize, English Story Writing
Interzone Arts Fest ’10

I'm Back!

Hi guys...


I have been away for a few days - well, quite terrible days. Was ill, with bad cough and sinusitis. May be the weather. I just dropped buy to say hi, nothing much to say, but I am writing good again... And yeah, thought of sharing a short story with you.

It was written for the University level competitions, that we call the Interzone Competition. And the topic was Surprise Gift.

Let me post it and it's upto you to tell me whether it deserves the First Prize it got... :)

Love
Sana xo

October 24, 2010

The Twilight - A Poem in Colour Pencils

The Twilight is a beautiful part of the day. The Sun goes to bed leaving some faint brush strokes of rose and lavender and yellow and purple... Instead of a poem, I tried to capture the essence of the Twilight with my colour pencils. Here it is...


This picture is in my drawing book and I photographed it from it. It's clear from the imperfection of the pic.
But thought it would be good to share it.
The Picture was completely done with three color pencils - Purple, Dark blue (Ultramarine) and Yellow. :)

Like it???

Love Always...
...S.R.

(Photo and Content: All rights reserved by the Author)

The Rose - A Signature

The Rose is a Pencil Drawing - or more accurately put - the Pencil Drawing I do in ten minutes (when there are no other distractions, of course!). I am sharing a snap of it here taken from my wall in my hostel room.
I drew it first when I was fifteen. :)


So here's it, thought you would like to see something more than my writing... :)

Hope you like it, friends... :)
Any comments welcome here... :)

With Lots of Love...xo
....S.R.

(Photo and Content: All rights reserved by the Author)

October 23, 2010

On Trust...
















Let me begin today's thoughts with a Senryu I wrote. It is titled Tissue Paper.

"Trust - so delicate
As a tissue - be gentle

To it, or it tears..."

A friend recently betrayed badly - and actually, it's when he confessed that I came to know it. I felt foolish, embarrassed. Still not out of it, yet... :-x




Trust - it's a common text message that circulates among us college kids - 

It's hard to make, 
  Easy to break...

And, I told him that. With some of my own additions, following his apology.

It's fine, I can forgive easily. God forgives, so why can't we simple humans do that? We shouldn't be that much arrogant, so as to not to forgive to those who confess and apologize. And I did forgive, but, I am a human. 

It is something I am trying to find out - Why is Love not the same always after Forgiveness?
Why isn't so easy to go back to the old state even after Forgiveness?

Often, things change - Forgiveness is just a play - sometimes...

And trust is so delicate - like a tissue paper, like a sprouting new leaf, like a tender flower bud...
Trust is a Baby as far as the aspects of Love are concerned - so tender - so vulnerable - so fragile - if you do not care...

And once the Trust is cracked, fissured, damaged, or collapsed, it's too hard to rebuild it.


Trust is not a building, so we do not get workers, even for a huge wage, to help us build or rebuild it...
(Photo and Content: All rights reserved by the Author)





October 22, 2010

A Downpour Altogether

It rained cats and dogs today. The rain began last night and I woke up with a strangely ended dream this morning. I was in a bus and was passing the place that I always longed to take a photograph of, when I come home every weekend. The river and scenery was great with the white clouds standing out softly against the blue blue sky. And I fished out my Digi-camera out of my handbag and focused...... and just when I clicked..... but just before the photo was captured..... I woke up!!! :-/ :-x

Or I would have got that snap.... (;->)

Anyway, it's this evening after I reached home for the weekend that it stopped. As I sat in the bus, looking forward to reaching home to start my work right away, I saw cars wading through the river the street had become. Calicut City is way too dirty when in it rains. I slept through most of the journey home. I was too tired of the routine at college.

So, I did the work anyway. My Print Manager, Suzanne Kelly had sent over the first Revision of the TEXT BLOCK/ GALLEY for my revision and proofing. There were errors still. But I found them faster than I thought as I was very much thorough with my poems. But over all, the layout looks great, thanks to Suze. She has done it well. There are two more Galley proofing remaining. Then it goes to print as soon as the Cover designing is over. I am just about to sign off the edited and proofed back cover blurb. 

All in all, it was a downpour today and yes....... I would LOVE to go to bed...

Goodnight everyone...

Love Always...
....SR

October 21, 2010

The Bird in the Water Tank, the 'Free' Time, the Back Cover Blurb for My Book!

When I started this blog, I had thought I will update it regularly. Well, I do wish to. But the (orderless) schedule doesn't let me keep the word as much as I want to.
Anyway, this morning I'm dropping by. I got some time (free or not, depends on what we do) as a bird died in the water tank at our Ladies' Hostel.

The water tank here is a beauty! The amount of dirt on it's periphery gives us an idea how much is there inside it. Besides, the water in the bathrooms show us even more. The longer time you bath, the dirtier you become. Well, that's the case...

So, a 'Mynah' died in it. The water in the tank was over by 8 a.m. And what? Each tap in the bathroom had a feather coming out of it!!! Can ya believe it?!
I decided not to take a bath in hurry today. So I bunked the IP clinical class and am going to bunk next hour, too.
So I have some 'free' time... ;)

At last, water did come, but (ironically), it smells sweet. Not very appealing. I'm afraid my new bathing soap might lose its exotic fragrance in the competition...

Now, let's leave the water tank. It's not going to be better than it is, ever...

Yesterday alone, I wrote 3 poems. Of course, as usual, I utilized the boring lectures.
The poems are posted in my page at Poetfreak. Check out 'My Linkzzz...'.

Another news to share is, I got the back cover blurb from my publisher. They made it from an interview I filled. And it gives an exciting feeling...! :)))
Sometimes, I feel I'm looking at someone else's book...

Love,
S.R.

October 17, 2010

Taking a Rest (I'm lying!)

I know that there's no rest for a writer, but I'm taking it anyway, after the long poem I wrote 3 days back. Technically, I'm tired but literally it's writer's block again. But I don't want to write about writer's block anymore. I will have to wait till the next pathology class.

Let me utilize the time by linking everything to everything.

There's a lot I still don't know about playing around on pages, as to how to customize my page.
I would love to add so many apps in my blog, but I have to figure it out first.
Any suggestions and help are welcome, friends...

There's one more thing that I'm confused to decide.
Should I give my picture to put on the back cover of my book?
The publisher says it is recommended. but I'm divided at that.


What do you think, guys? And gals?


Love
SR.



October 14, 2010

The Blue-Eyed Boy's Mother

When I began to write this poem, I did not know how long it would be... Or whether I'd finish it... But I wanted to write it... The sad story of a young single mother and her little boy... It happens too often... The mother divided between her honor as a woman and her little son's eyes...
Posting a long poem in Poetfreak, I thought there wouldn't be much attention to it due to it's length but it made me happy when it got 20 comments making it the 2nd most appreciated poem in my archives. I feel satisfied about writing it... About choosing the topic... And using free verse unlike my usual styles and formats.

Some stories need to be told...

With prayers for all striving, surviving mothers...
Love,
SR

October 8, 2010

Falling......

Quite a couple of months ago, I woke up hearing my cell phone click - there was a text message. It was a new friend - I think he never slept. He sadly told me he fell from the bed last night and sprained his neck and it hurt so much. I got out of bed wondering what to tell him, because he expected something wise from as I am a medical student.

I couldn't help smiling when a truth struck me - it was more of a realization. Kind of a Light - I knew I had a quote of my own (unless someone has already said it, but I am pretty sure no one has!).
I asked him the details and he said it just hurt. I suggested some pain relieving ointment but that wouldn't satisfy him. Then I felt it was better to create a digression. And philosophy was best with him.
So I texted him back.

"The two greatest unexpected falls in our life are:
One - Falling from the bed during sleep,
Two -  Falling in Love..."

Though it took all these years and four heart-breaks and several sleepless nights for me to realize this fact, I know it is just true...

So, I am home this weekend. The net had expired as the due date for the bill has passed, and I tried and tried to connect with my mobile. Failed and failed and at last did it. And here I am now - for a short time.
But it's worth coming - I want to talk to you guys - whoever passes this, because I had a thought to share today - about Falling............

Love you all!!!

S.R.

October 6, 2010

This Rain Brings Back To Me...


This morning is cloudy and there's a not-so-heavy rain. If I could just figure out what the numbness of my mind is related to, I'd have been fine. But this is so damn depressing...

The feeling that something is terribly missing in my life, haunts me. And not knowing what it is, depresses me.

I have to concentrate on something. I bunked college today with more than enough reasons. I'm not writing another poem yet. I'm not even eating my favorite chocolate chip cookies which usually helps me feel better. May be I don't want to feel better. But who doesn't want to feel better? Again?

This rain brings back to me a lot. This rain brings back memories of high school days. This rain brings back morning I craved to laze in the bed instead of rushing to school for the morning special classes. This rain brings back to me the seductive perfume of Revlon's 'Fire & Ice'... and the rush in the bus... and the silent romance...

There's no going back, I know, and that's why I miss it all. The lifetime this rain brings back is huge... The looking back at those vernal days makes me feel old...like an old writer who is already writing off all that...

He was my saviour. But now he says he's leaving me... Leaving me alone and oh, I would be so lonely without him... I wouldn't have his babies anymore... I'd be broken and blank if he left me... My life would suck if he left me...
Please don't leave me... I was lost in you... Now to find myself, I want more of our babies... The poems that were born when your soul mated with mine... When your eyes met my heart... When your gaze lifted my spirit... When your hands touched my thoughts...

Poetry, I am HOPELESSLY IN LOVE WITH YOU...

Love always,
S.R.

(Photo and content: Copyright reserved by the Author)

October 3, 2010

Why I Write Poetry

To find myself,
I wrote poetry...

When I found myself,

I still wrote poetry...

Now to find my old self,

I keep writing poetry...

-September 25th, 2010

"I Do Not Want To Be A Doctor Who Writes, But I Want To Be A Writer Who Heals..." - Sana Rose