The Balancing Act

Hanging by a thread Dangling , swaying Tipping over and drowning dead Coming to life again ,  splaying Huge octopus hands , Loneliness creeping along Making lines on sands Criss cross and oblong A thin slice of moonlight shriveled, Huddled under the oblong shadow The night, damp, warm , disheveled  Awaited day, on a dark  green  meadow

Veins grey and ashen, Eyes watery and red rimmed, Heaving and struggling for breath. Reminding of struggles and scratches, Heaving breathless out of fear, Ears scalded with abuse, Years tortured with neglect, But the immemorial chord, The duty, the emotion Blurs it all …………………. Wishing for sanity, Wishing for easy departure, Another realm, Another lifetime, Wishing emotions, bonding and love .

This is not a work of fiction, but it seems so, even to me who is the one who has experienced it all.  My memory of all that is being written here seems to have happened in some other life time, but all of it happened when I was 4 or 5 years old, but still the pictures are so vivid and so real in my mind like I am watching a techni colour HD movie or as if I am still there when I am writing it all down.  I say it is not fiction because of the tremendous  nature’s bounty and beauty and companionship that I experienced at that time  seems so unreal even to me. Let me start with the morning, yes, so the morning started with me the 5 year old running from bed straight to the verandah and sitting on the steps of the verandah (of my house which was in a small town of Kerala), the steps leading to the courtyard, it looking all clean  with fresh marks of broom which looked like half circles made over and over again on the brown earth. Sitting on the steps I l...