AuthorSuryalaxmi

In Alleppey, I was not the only wanderer. There were many like me seeking information about the place and it’s tourist spots with or without a planned itinerary. Most of them were from across the seas since the place is so popular among international tourists. In fact, I found more international tourists than national even inside the city. It was not exactly the tourist season. It was hot March. The beaches were throbbing with aliens speaking Malayalam in bits and pieces. The locals too brush up their English and Hindi for the encounter with non-Malayalam speakers.  I was not a tourist there not even a complete alien. I say Alappuzha instead of Alleppey and I am familiar with Kerala culture thanks to my Malayali roots. Kerala was always a home away from home. Sometimes in my childhood, I had been to Alappuzha but I only remember in bits. So this was my chance to press the refresh button. Plunge in the sea and feel the wetness of the land which I had heard so much about m...

While others followed their ambitions She walked an aimless path She sought the lightest happiness in each day Sang her loveliest songs, admired the untimely rain They looked down upon her a little "How can someone not have ambitions in today's world?" But inside they mumbled in envy.. "Look at her, how happy she is!"

So what is your darkest secret? Tonight, we both are bare.

Her laughter has a Music That sounds like that of your own It lights up your dark moments  And the light stays with you..

A s soon as she would begin humming the lullaby,  I would see a mysterious story unfolding before my eyes.  It was a world as real as mine and the creatures were somewhat familiar..  The shadows on the walls looked little different. My imagination got active.  Was it my silly mind that loved to dream? Or was there a magic in mother's lullaby?

I carry a little bag wherever I go to stuff all my vain feelings, for all the futile fancies,  And the hopeless dreams.. They say one day I'll be grown up enough  To dump the bag away..

Stop. It's Okay. JUST BE.

Look back into your prayers Much of what you have today Is what you prayed for In the past.

“The Waves of the Beach Get Me Back to Me” Beaches! Can someone really define them? The colours of the waves, the music of life reverberating through sand grains, the sun rays splashing itself on water.. what all beach can be for someone who has the eyes to see beyond the usual!

You don't just pack and set out to travel, In fact,  Your journeys are the ones you are destined to have.

I cling to a fanciful dream  And call it Love.

The Kites flew in race. The race to escape. They all wanted to escape to another land.  Not knowing where. But they soared high.  I held on to one string. Then jumped to another. Perhaps the other one was stronger.  I clung to it, the third one. Take me with you, for I have been waiting since long.  I clung to them blind in hope. Did I trust the strings?  Perhaps, I don’t know. I just allowed myself to fly.

He came like the rain Filled me up And left me all drenched...

I was okay tucking all pain inside Until the rain came.. there's something about the rain. I was okay hiding my tears  Until the rain came.. there's something about the rain. I was okay keeping my words to myself and then came the rain.. There's something about it.

Why do I write? I get a canvas to paint the structure of the threads tangled between the branches and among the twigs of a tree that I call MIND. But..Why do I write again? I can pull out the little weeds trapped in the slush that got on my mind after walking all day. So, why do I write again? I will experience less bumps in my bed that bother me in the darkness of sleep.. there will be less twitching in the mind.

By Suryalaxmi R. It is time I open my old closet again It is time I check whether the skeletons are still there They may have walked away their own path Since it’s been long time I haven’t checked But all the time I have been thinking of them Protecting them and hoping they are safe Pretending that I have changed And that I am okay As if there was never the existence of those skeletons But the more I tried to deny The more troubled I was Finally I am going to check again My old closet which I had locked up before I turned on a new leaf I opened the closet and groped in the darkness of secrecy My hands pulled out … a dress ! A frock from my childhood or old self The past … Where are the skeletons ? Did they walk away? I groped again and again in the deep There they were … and where would they go..?

By Suryalaxmi R. Empty terraces, vacant rooftops Lonely yards , that is the city they made Pigeons crowding up on a roof distant in sight I long for the sound, thank God for it, The rest is noise. Traffic bangs on doors, even at night I wander how people see the route in darkness And why they trust the headlights When even the moon is known to cheat, Flowers in my native died in loneliness The first tiny flowers of the city I saw When it brushed against the street dog Windows were to offer a sight But here they open up to another window I long for the kites flying sky But alas not even an urchin around.