When Life Gives You Surprise!!!!

It was back in 2015. I was assigned to coordinate a fashion shoot in Bangalore. We wanted ordinary girls from Bangalore without a modeling background to pose in different locations in the city. It was challenging for me, as it was an entirely new experience. The huge task involved everything from the high-headed beautician working in a small parlor of a gali to college-going girls showing off in English and low-budget shopping from local vendors. Somehow, we managed two shoots. We wanted one more. Sreekanth Kalarikkal, our photographer, decided to contact a friend of his to get the third model, Sreenidhi, but she was a professional. After a few minutes of interaction, I realized that this girl was different from all the others. I felt at ease in her company. While we were talking, my poor English began to improve. Her level of enthusiasm was different. She came in jeans and a shirt, if I remember. I told her we needed her to wear something Indo-Western, but she had nothing at that time in her hand. All the other models had already donned their outfits, leaving us to concentrate solely on their makeup. To avoid wasting time and light, we went to the immediate clothing store next to the place where we were standing. We visited a Reliance store, where we saw a display featuring a woman wearing a skirt and tank top. I told her that was on my mind. I got to pick out her outfit—a red skirt, a black tank top, and a shawl—and she let me. She proposed a jacket as a possible option. Additionally, Sreekanth chettan was okay with our decision. Metro was the setting. The first set of photos in the jacket went well. The metro was crowded. She had to remove her jacket for the next set of pictures and to wear the shawl. Some men in the metro start to tease her verbally. For a brief moment, her confidence crumbled. The next moment she came back with vibrancy. I loved her attitude, and when we parted ways, she took a selfie of us together. I thanked her for being kind and cooperative. She told me that she also found it to be a wonderful experience. We talked pretty well during that shoot. She mentioned she had a wonderful friend in Kerala, whom she met during a beauty pageant. She added the girl was first runner-up in the competition, and even her academics were impressive—it was about actress Gayathri Suresh. She was happy for Gayathri, as her "Jamna Pyari" was a HIT. She said she was just waiting for her chance. I wished her good luck. And yesterday when I watched HIT3, I felt I knew the girl. Not watching KGF, I googled her name, and her name was Sreenidhi Shetty.

When you wish not to make a wish but still wish because it is a wish!

As most girls do, I wanted to marry someone like my dad. When I met my husband for the first time, he said his uniform meant everything to him. Knowing my dad, a soldier turned police officer, I understood exactly what he meant. I replied, 'I know.' I always admired my dad's well-ironed khaki uniform and spotless shoes. Whether 2 a.m. or 12 p.m., he was always ready. I hated when his phone rang on festivals and holidays; I knew he'd leave immediately. My dad was a family man who loved us, but he valued his uniform. I admired his courage and was a fan of his stories. Meanwhile, my mom spent hours in temples and prayer rooms, praying for Dad's health and long life. Her favorite offering to God for him was Mrithyunjayarchana and Dehamutt. She believed her prayers protected him, even during challenging situations like protests, raids, lathi charges or stone pelting. Dad never disagreed, though he never explicitly agreed. When I said 'I know,' to Sanjeev I really knew. God blessed me with a husband like Dad – passionate and sincere towards his uniform. On our first Onam, I traveled from Kerala to Jodhpur to have our first onasadya together with my husband, but he was busy on some sports ground. On my first Vishu, I prepared a proper vishu sadya with over 10 side dishes, but my soldier husband had to leave for a suicide spot. By our second anniversary, I learned that 'red' no longer stands for love, it meant he'd wear his BP jacket and be away for two days. During my pregnancy I was sleepless more because of his "rounds" aka night patrols than pregnancy hormones. My baby listened to his Motorola's creaky whispering than the lullabies when she was inside me. Years passed by.. The reasons varied, but the words we exchange remained the same... :He says 'Sorry,' sometimes firm, sometimes sad or disappointed, or empathetic. And I reply, 'I understand,' in various tones – proud, empathetic, sarcastic, or sad. I know and I hope you know you are my favorite blue, with all its nuances.

COMPASSIONATE MEN

I never found a compassionate man! I used to feel, "Are they even humans?!" "Why do they act like providers all the time?" "Why are they so aggressive?" Or "Why can't they simply cry?" When I found compassionate men, they turned out to be flirtatious or dramatic at some point. So in my mind I made two rating scales: from aggressive to compassionate and friendly to flirtatious. In my 33 years of life, I only saw four men who weren't afraid of crying. The first one cried to me over the phone, shaking my 23-year-old system of beliefs that men don't cry. It echoes still in my ears, as I hold myself responsible for his tears. He trusted me with life, and I acted more as a woman, and it failed me as a friend. We were thick friends; at times I doubted we had a bit more than that. Since we weren't mature enough to save our friendship, it couldn't become romantic either; we lost both. I value us and cherish us. I don't regret it, but I'm sorry, and I will be sorry until my death as a friend who betrayed you but will stay proud for doing the right thing. The second man is the most compassionate human being I met in my life, and I called him "Angel.". I saw him as soft, sensitive, sentimental, empathetic, protective… and whatnot! He proved to me that a young lady can feel secure both emotionally and physically around a man in his late 20s, even at midnight all alone. I respect him to the core, and I admire him as a true gentleman. I never faced any inappropriate gesture from him, and rarely do men make women feel like humans or more for their physical bodies. I saw him cry many times as his sister was going through an ugly divorce, and it was he who advocated for her to marry his friend, her then-boyfriend, who turned out to be her husband. I I observed a man shedding tears while he was speaking; I witnessed him weeping and sobbing. I shared my first cigarette and witnessed the most beautiful sunrise with him. And I realised a broken man is much better than a gutsy one. The third man I saw crying was facing a difficult term in his academics. He was holding back his tears, but I could feel his sob and pain. He came from a not-so-privileged background. He worked very hard and made his own house even before he was getting a regular job. He had issues with his mentor, and on the work front, luck wasn't favouring him. He was vulnerable. I felt it was an honour when he opened up about his worries and fears. I always found him aggressive, opinionated, and manly. I never knew men were equally afraid of life and concerned about family before that. In many instances I felt he loved me, but he never disrespected the boundaries and took all my "Nos" in a dignified manner. I wondered how a man can apologise just because I didn't like something he had done and that too in front of his friends. He didn't argue, say he was right, or question my "sensitivity.". For a moment I felt he wasn't real. How can an earthly man resist showing off his ego? .. Why did he value our friendship and manage it for years with a lot of respect and dignity? .. I was much more conservative and introspective about all his actions through zooming lenses, but he understood my traditional mindset and concerns and never acted like a "man," as portrayed in movies or in my surroundings. I will be admiring you until my last breath will hold you close to my heart. You deserve it! The last man, whom I call a semi-compassionate human, is my husband. He cries over silly things more than I do, but he makes me cry more during our fights, hence the word semi-compassionate. I love him because he was my bystander at the time of my delivery. He changed my bloody napkins, took me to the toilet, and tolerated all my pre- and post-delivery dramas. I often tell him I couldn't afford to divorce him. But there are 100+ things I don't like about him. However, his record exceeds that of many men I know. And why do we need a man full of muscle if he doesn't have a heart to feel us? Why do we need a man with a longer penis if he doesn't know how many moles his partner has on her body and fails to kiss them at least once?! From Christ to Krishna, all the men who caught a woman's heart were feminine in their nature. They were not flirtatious, but genuinely compassionate.After this revelation, I skipped watching hero-centric movies where men twist their moustaches and show their aggression on and off. I began searching for more nuanced love stories. Finally, Desi me ended up with English movies. From Meghamalhar to The Japanese Wife to Mr and Mrs Iyer... Recently, it was 'Purple Hearts'. I was searching for military movies, and one of the best romantic movies popped up. The hero was a soldier but a human more. I loved the subtle emotions on his face and his deep eyes. The tremors in his voice melted me, and I declared myself to be his fan. I immersed myself in his character; I played him in my mind nonstop. And I searched for his name, Nicholas Galitzine; it led me to "The Idea of You" and then "Red, White, and Royal Blue." Seriously, I've no idea how 2 men in love act. I haven't seen any of them. I was expecting a bromance, but it was a gay romance. I have seen gay porn long before out of curiosity, and it made me uncomfortable. It was violent and made me puke. Hindi serials interest me more than 50 shades of grey. It's a different topic, so let's set it aside for now. But this one, this movie, made me perceive men in a totally different light. There was not just physical intimacy, but there were fears and dreams. And without knowing one's fears and dreams, how can you make love?! Having sex is physical, but making love is divine. loved the way they used the vocabulary too… Both men played it so beautifully, which made me long for them. Both were powerful yet emotional men. Kudos to the team, and I want you to see this movie with your teens. Highly recommended

Patchy lam

Patchy lam    His voice was an ocean. Soothing and warm His eyes were shimmering. As the sun glitters on the whelm! His touch was rough and patchy.  Yet calm..  Sliding down my body as  A flowing light pslam!  He was brown, like the roots of the palm, The crown was perfect to make The home of my pixie charm   

The fee we pay

 Hey, you...

Adorned in silk sarees

Chilling at Parties

Having everything free

Seeing all the world around

What a life, they said!

Its his uniform makes my dress

Its the unheard war cry makes me chill

Its my life that pays the fee

And you know, nothing comes for free!!

Its a life that tough to feel..

And what I see is just the blue!

Going everywhere he goes and lives

Making home that doesn't break!

Being friends with unknown to known

Then saying goodbye at very unknown time.

Scorching, drenching,  shivering to live

The Nation's call is more than my plea..

He is adamant to serve and die

And its me burning all the time

And you say its all for free!

Its the life that pays the fee..

The lives of nightmares

Anytime come true!! 

But can't leave my soldier

Alone in the field..

It's my strength that makes him strong!

It's my home that saves our homes! 

Say that once more we don't pay the fee!

The fee we pay is all our lives! 

Moulted wings

 She dreamed to fly high

To touch the clouds and the heaven

She wanted to o climb till

She find the first ray of sun

She panted after the greeny bush

Thought once she would meet the deers

But...

She was caged!

Her broken heart kept weeping,

Her wings decided to fight.

She whacked the cage with her  beak,

Claws and those strong wings of light feathers!

And days passed by, cage tore apart.

She rushed to fly!

But her wings were no more there!

All the feathers moulted away..

Tears rolled down..

Yet she decided to take her wings

Touched the green,  brown then the blue!

New wings appeared to meet the clouds!

The late bloomer

Have you ever been in love? 

That bounding heart.. 

Those butterflies in the tummy..  

Those smile that hesitate to leave. . 

Those random checks on phone.. 

I fell.. 

Yes,  it was a fall!

From a cliff to the ocean

Not knowing the corals and whales

Who wouldn't want to be on air

Not to fly and to get wet!

Was it an age to be in love?  

I tied myself with the morales

I wasnt a brave witch,  and

Never wanted to be a bitch! 

I looked at him,  

The island he was.

Surrounded by the ocean,

Serene, blue  and tempting

The place where mermaids sunbathed, 

Roving birds nested, 

Perivinkles bloomed.

There I looked at my feet. 

The wrinkled skin was dry, and dirty.

The dull nails that lost its glow; 

The stink hangnails!

I was old,  old enough to let go of love.

However I wanted to be drenched.

I stepped by the shore

Gazed at the waves, 

Merging with the horizon.

Then it came,  a torrent of his love.

Touched my feet,  my knees and there.

It was warm and salty  ;

Just a lava from the core of his heart

Listen it in Varsha's mesmerizing voice!