Pretty Little Things…

It was raining, the window is open, the curtains swaying along.  There is no power, quite common here, but then to be honest, it is the best feeling. It is dark both inside and outside. The outdoors slightly lit up, the soothing sound of the raindrops elegantly dropping on the leaves, and gently flowing onto the ground. Once it reaches the ground, the ecstatic pleasant odour that emanates from the fertile soil. In all its magnificence, the rain, it hits us, it pulls us into our past, it fast-forwards into our future and it blooms in our present. The power to hold time, to pull it all together.

I see it as the disposition of nature, its affection towards her children.

The tiny plant outside, newly arrived, in its new home, feeling satiated, the rain having quenched its thirst and the familiar smell.

The kitten sitting on top of the slightly discoloured sofa, with one paw on the net that keeps the mosquitoes away, slightly moving her tail, from left to right at a particular time interval, staring straight into the night. Wondering what the sound is, why the long stick like figures outside are dancing like her tail. Or maybe they are calling her out, we are all nature’s children after all!




She took one step at a time… carefully, looking around she saw that it no longer seems like her home. This is not where she was born, the ground below her tiny feet didn’t feel the same. It is cold, yet she walks quite oblivious to the unsympathetic conditions. Her tiny eye scanned for familiarity. She cried out loud, stared blankly at the white walls. It seems like a whole different world.  Life would no longer be the same for her.

It could be for good or bad, her future echoed.  Then came those warm hands, lifted her slowly, embraced her imparting a sense of security. She curled into those arms, perfectly fitting into them, making a home in its warmth.


Dessert love!! Kerala style

Picture this!!

A white ceramic bowl, with pretty blue flowers , leaves on either side, they are quite the green. Supple, raw yet bright.

Stove is on, flame is dancing with the wind, small drops of water left on the pan is slowly blending in with the air around.

Ghee, lavish on that one. The aroma tickling my senses. A few whiffs….. kiki on my shoulder….while busy eating my hair, takes a few whiffs of it too..

Ripe banana, boiled, soft, into the hot ghee.

Wooden spatula, gently mixing in the ghee with the ripe banana , a few cardamoms, gently crushed….. sprinkle all over..

Inhale it…

Breathe in….

My mouth slowly watering, the thought of that beauty in my mouth

Jaggery….. make ‘pani’ out of it….

Watch the jaggery boil, the small bubbles…

Take the bowl, carefully fill it with the above ingredients and savour it…..


Kiki’s tryst with destiny.. (pretty big for a kitten who weighs less than a kilo :D )

I was born on the roadside….. and dumped along with my siblings on the road, right next to a Pani poori waala. He was a nice man because he did tell my rescuer that my mommy hadn’t returned to feed us or take care of us. The three of us were being attacked by little ants ( we were really tiny too, we were really hungry too)one fine morning a “hooman” finally came to take us home. We were so happy, that we squeaked and squealed and assured each other that we are going to survive and that we have been given a second chance.


We were safe in our little cardboard boxes (we were as tiny as our “hooman’s” tiny palms). We were fed milk and cleaned up with saline water. We did miss our mommy but our “hooman” friend took really good care of us.

Now, this was new!! There was a lot of space to run around (obviously because we were very tiny), we had a cozy box to snuggle in, I and my two siblings had food delivered to our door steps everytime we cried. We were living the life.

In a few days I was sucking milk out of my feeding bottle, I noticed that my “hooman” friend had made a separate box for me and had given me a pink ribbon. She closed the box, gave me a soft cloth to cuddle in and gave me off to another “hooman”. I was mad at her!!! She had abandoned me too.  Upset and heart broke I went to my new home. This “hooman” looked and smelled different but she fed me some milk and that made all the difference. She wasn’t going to eat me!! I was reassured!!!


Days passed, weeks passed….Initially, it was hard, I had a fungal infection, throat problems and so much more but I am a fighter. I and my “hooman” mommy and daddy fought them along with me and finally, I recovered ( I might have forgotten how to meow, but that’s okay!! I am their only child :D)


Now I am older, about 2 months, and I have gained weight (almost one kilogram), litter trained. I spend most of my time sleeping, rest of the time I explore my house, I bite my mommy’s ears and play with my daddy all night long. And my favourite part is sleeping on them whenever I can. I love them loads and I know that they do too…….


We are a happy family now.


With loads of love kiki 🙂



I am constantly in motion,  why? I know that it is absurd, but I know that this is how it should be!! My physical self is seated in front of a laptop typing away, the mind is constantly travelling. It is a little bit exhausted, a little bit exhilarated. The temperament of the mind does define my self. It can draw a map. A map that can help decipher my past, present and perhaps even future. Destiny is perhaps weaving a rather complex piece of art. Why weave?? Why not draw? One line at a time, one dot at a time even? Weaving is complex, so is drawing, some might argue. A dancing tree, the leaves that sway with the wind, it takes effort, nothing is simple in this world. But there is some simplicity that outshines the complexities found here.BeautyPlus_20170605173609_save

Why such thoughts?

I am picturing myself travelling in a car, quite a dilapidated sedan, through the desert. Why the desert? why the dilapidated car? How is it moving? why am I there? so many questions! I do feel the wind blowing against my face, hot, I am closing my eyes, a few wrinkles below my eyes, I am blinking, my eyes,  I am happy.



She does not resemble me. She is in no hurry to do anything. She lets the wheel take her, whenever, wherever.

She is not driving. Who is then? There is nobody else.

I opened my eyes, a few drops of sweat on my brows.  Still sitting in front of the laptop, typing away.  It is absurd I know! But so is the life that we are living.

Are we living?

She shut her laptop, took out her textbooks to study for the next test from the billion others that are waiting their turn. Someday when all of this is over her mind will still be young and in motion, maybe not her body.

Sips her cup of coffee. Silence.

Them…… dried mangoes

It was a busy street, there are mangoes ( it is mango season), stuffed toys of all my favourite things calling me from all four sides, a young child stared at me, quite a condescending stare I must admit while I was drooling over the sight of icecream and lassi (it was very hot outside in my defence) and ofcourse long line of cheap clothes (quite colourful I must say) and the deafening sound of salesmen yelling at the top of their lungs to get our attention, and last but not the least, the typical stares at everything except for our beautiful faces (we were a group of girls).  I was scanning the place, for something that would catch my attention, like a robot from the future scanning for explosives (I was scanning for food). It happened all on a sudden, I could hear a siren at the back of my head, it was warning, my mind was telling me not to pay any attention but my poor feeble heart could not resist, I ran towards it….. there it was, in all its glory, a white bag, filled with dried mangoes, adorned with salt and chilli (the amount of it used is lethal, it could kill you, it is not for the weak) just waiting there, calling me ….. my mouth was starting to water, it could not wait for the moment when it could taste the salty, sour, spicey taste of them mangoes. The nose could tell, this was going to be fun….. while the poor stomach knew that this was going to be a long night.

As I placed one piece on my tongue, it was like somebody had pressed a rewind button, I could taste the rice mixed with some curd and a small bite of this dried mango on my tongue, taste buds were having a party, I could see the little me trying to steal a few and devouring them while everybody else slept, sometimes muthukutty (my grandfather) would also accompany me. It was a dangerous mission, my grandmother was the head of securities there (both then and now) she was and still is pretty strict, if caught you could even lose your life.  But she cooks, and by that I mean she cooks like no other, there is something about her tiny hands, maybe the love. Anyways I came back home, tried to feed some to my cat, who refused (that imbecile). I made everybody taste it, they needed to know that such things exist, they are slowly disappearing, but I am not going to let that happen. I will learn (hopefully get it right) and pass it on. It is too precious to be forgotten.