I'm Shifting!

Am shifting.. Its like moving into a house I have been dreaming for years.. Yes; but ti isn't actually a home shifting that am talking about, but a shift from blogosphere. 6 blogs were gettign a bit too handful to maintain and to read (as reported by trusted sources). So, here is the solution. am moving all my blogs under a single roof; where as desired before by me, you could choose which section you'd want to read or not ( From the Menu) and if you aren't particular, I'd be really happy if you go through all. Its just created today. So, the site-warming (if there exists a term like that) is today.. Like when we move home, we still expect our friends to visit us and be friends.. All my friends here are requested to come and be a part of my new site Banter Battery.

 Can't tell you how glad I am to be a domain owner. So, Meenakshi Nair is the official owner / Boss at www.banterbattery.com .Waiting to meet you all there !!!

P.S : A big big bear hug to Raghu ji for making this suppressed dream a reality. I was so very excited and moved by the kind of initiative and trouble he went through for this, I don't even remember saying as much as a thank you to him. Maybe am not that good at mouthing my emotions verbally. But really, from the bottom of my heart; Thanks a ton!!!

Blooming in the Rain !

It fell on my hand first. I looked up. The next one fell on my cheek. I opened my mouth a bit; to let out a gasp of unexpected happiness or to quench my thirst - I don't know, it was just involuntary. By the time the raindrops fell rapidly on me, the hills in the distance seemed blurred with curtains of thick rain drops. I opened my arms wide to welcome the cool downpour. The raindrops hit quite harshly on my face, yet my smile grew; 'cos I knew it would eventually soften up. It ain't strange how it reminded me of you. Yeah, your thought have become so forceful, am unable to push them to the back of my mind. But strangely enough, the thoughts are not of how much I miss you, but how much I feel you close to me, at this very moment. Maybe the reason is this enchanting rain or the murmuring songs of these birds. Strange, how the bird chirping seems so much like human voices as I pay more attention.. I sway around in the breeze to ... Gasp! The bus stop near my office is jam- packed & all eyes are stuck on me. Oh and me, I have never wished more that I could vanish. Drenched from head to toe, I fumble within my handbag for the umbrella and pompously open it. Not that I could get any more wet than I already was; but it did help me hide my face from all those staring, amused, jeering, inquisitive stares.

Why did this rain choose to fall now and spin me into my dream world??

Huh! Less than ten minutes and my reverie gloriously turns to a nightmare. Hmm…Wondering which bus stop I shall be using from tomorrow…

My First Blog Award !

I received the "Super Scribbler Award " from Janice of My Diary . It surely is a dream come true, but the compartmentalization freak in me won't le tme do the post here, so you can find the post on my blog Pondering here .

Don't forget to check it, to know the 5 bloggers who were passed over this award by me, and if possible do take out time to read them too..

Check the award widget on the left panel. :) I just can't stop grinning.

The Dustbin

Every time I got scolded by my Mom or Dad or had a lost fight with my sister, I would run to the window of our bedroom and cry gazing out of it. Till we changed that house when I was about 6 years old.


I wasn't looking at the sky or the vehicles passing by on the road, but the huge municipal dustbin right across the street.There was a bond I shared with it that no one knew...


I don't remember much from that period of time, but there are a few I shall never forget. When I was about 3 year old, my sister told me something that affected me the way she would never have dreamed of. She told me how they got me...


My mom and my sister were going to the temple when they heard a wail from the dustbin. At first they decided to ignore and keep walking, but the cries were heart wrenching and they couldn't help but walk over to the huge dustbin (It was about 5 feet tall and very wide -supposed to hold the garbage for the whole neighborhood). There they saw a small baby lying over the garbage heap. My parents surely din't want another kid - they had their brilliant daughter and what else could they want (of course my sister was the one telling me- she won't belittle herself). But the child was plump, fair and the way it looked at my Mom and sister with those big eyes & pleading cries made them to pick her up. And guess what, that was me.


Now, if you believed this story, am not surprised. I did, for a long long time, till I had solid proof that it was not true. If you din't believe, you are the smart ones like my sister. Most of my friends have heard stories like these, like having to buy them from the market, getting them in exchange for a kilo of tomato and stuff. But the way my sister told me and my Mom's silence when I went to confirm did the trick for me. (My mom had told a story to my sister like this when she was young, so my Mom had to support this prank of my dear sister).


However ridiculous it seems now, it din't feel so back then. I kept yearning to find my real parents, wondering who would they be, why they left me in the dustbin, what would have made them abandon me. If passer-bys couldn't resist taking me up, how could my real parents leave me just like that; and that too on top of rotting pile of garbage?


There was this sense of self worth that crumpled somewhere within ; me- the one my own parents din't want. Anything and everything my parents did for me, I saw it as if a favor to me - a debt I shall repay when am able enough to. I never dared to ask my parents for money (sure my parents were quite fine with it and never really knew why, except that they thought am a person who values money at such a young age) as I felt they were spending enough for my education, food and all. 


Not that I wasn't naughty or din't enjoy my childhood, but there was a nagging pain that always gnawed within. By the time I was 12-13 I had finally believed that the story was just a cook-up , but by then it was too late to wipe off the attachment I felt for that particular dustbin (I am least interested in other dustbins). There was a bond I felt with the dustbin the way one feels with the cradle you slept in as a child.


I miss my Dustbin !!! (Now, that was just a dramatic over reaction)

The First Post

Now, this wasn't an easy step. There were so many events , so many memories, so many experiences (pleasant & not so pleasant) which I shall never let go. Tried puting them in a diary before, but never found it safe enough.. But now when I think of a lot of things, they seem to evoke an amused smile, sometimes an unbearable pain. But the stuff I want to blurt out would not fit into any of the blogs yet. Not because of anything except that they are so meaningful for me, might be of interest to people whose life I trod on in the future, the people in whose lives I have been a part yet never really knew me.....

Or maybe am just a case of uncontrollable severe blogobsession mania.

Whatever it is, hope its a good read!!!