Before the next flight

I had a turbulent landing a while ago – almost like a free fall for a few seconds – a woman was crying, the couple next to me were holding each other tightly, and to bring a finality to the pending doom the air hostess began speaking in an urgent, disturbed voice.

I was thinking “So this is what it feels like!” I thought what if this was it? Me alone on a plane, middle of nowhere – that’s it. How long before my family would know? Would they find me? I know it has happened with many, the missing Malaysian airlines being the most recent example, but there is a difference between when it happens on the news and when it happens to you.

I was wondering if I had said a proper goodbye to my husband before leaving in the morning, and calling out to God, since I have heard that if your final thoughts are about God you go to heaven(and I still maintain I’m not overtly religious). I also realized how much I love being alive. I am grateful that I lived to write this, and hopefully there will be more.

This also made me aware of the fact that I haven’t written about my marriage yet, and it has been exactly 7 months today. I got married in December last year and am in the “happily ever after” phase of my life. It has been the most interesting part of my life so far, has made me acutely aware of myself than anything else ever has. My husband stays as far away from books as I cling on to them. The only exception he makes to reading anything except news is my blog. He is practical while I am dreamy; I am thoughtful while he is impulsive. Together, we are making each other better people with every passing day.

I don’t have my wedding picture handy, but this is a picture of us from last weekend.


Crossing the Rubicon… Almost…

I never thought this day would ever come but I forgot my blog’s password today.

For a very long time, I have been flirting with the idea of blogging again… On and off, I would keep visualizing my post, I would think of the title, what theme it would be, would it be a fiction, or a personal account giving an excuse for my long absence (I roll my eyes on that one. Who would be waiting on my blog for an excuse really? And how many times have I been excused already?)

But I crossed the Rubicon today… well almost. I read someone’s post and wanted to like it which prompted me to login and I drew a blank at the password. I tried and tried, nudging my fingers into typing on memory, and regretfully clicked on the dreaded ‘Forgot Password’ and I thought to myself – if this didn’t stir me into action, nothing would.

I will write something good another day, maybe throw in an excuse or two for this post also. But today I just write. I sit on a chair, boot up my laptop, login to my blog and just write.

I don’t want to cross this Rubicon, not yet… for I write, therefore I am.

Getting Back

He walked with nervous anticipation… his hands hanging awkwardly by his sides… his fingers felt like forgotten acquaintance – their movements a vague memory of a subconscious past. He trudged slowly to the farthest room of the house – the place he called his haven amidst madness. Did he still belong? Would he still match up with the sanctity of his refuge? The thought had held him back for weeks. But he had to try, or what was he but another mortal drowning in the sea of life? He had to try… he took a long breath and walked towards the closed door.

One step after another, the door got closer. He held the knob and gave it a twist. It felt like before, but as the tiny dark room showed itself, the hesitation resurfaced. At the centre sat a chair and his violin lay on it, just like he had left it a few months ago, before the accident, before the physiotherapy. He stepped in the room, the door clicked shut behind him. The dwindling light of an impending dusk filtered through the curtains making the shadow of the chair longer, beckoning him.

He held the violin in his hands and sat on the chair, adjusting his spine to its curves. The grip of the violin evoked a flood of memories; his fingers found their purpose again. Holding it in one hand, he strummed a few strings – the awkward spurts of sound brought a smile to his face. Arching his back, he held the violin between his left shoulder and chin and lifted the bow to playfully draw a few strings. The resulting clumsy sound, made him laugh like a child. Nervous, anxious wave of energy ran through him… he had not lost his way after all… It would take a while, but he still belonged… and that’s all that mattered.


This is a tribute to my blog; I am getting back to writing with the same trepidation as my MC.

It feels so good to write something again! It’s like finding my equilibrium in a way no form of meditation ever can.

Love to all!




“We need to take a Lean Trace across to assess the system performance; right now it looks like we are making too many expensive hits on the database.”


And my heart wanders again. It’s almost a year since I last saw her, almost a year since I met her the first time. I have lost count of how often I have thought of her since. It’s not just the pretext of a dragging work meeting that took me to her today, I have thought of her on happy days, busy days, days nothing was going right. My mind doesn’t need a reason to surge past the immediate, down the dusty memory lanes and alleys to see her again, to feel her like I felt her that day.

I just need to close my eyes and she is wrapped in my arms like that day – her warm cuddle spreading through my body, her nails digging in my shoulders, I taking in her slow and rhythmic musky breath, staring in her eyes…  those big black emeralds looking at me with complete understanding. It seemed like I knew her since eternity, like she knew me the way no one else ever did or would.

I would never see her again perhaps, I could ask around but I could never be sure. But it’s alright, as in a place no one can touch or mar, I meet her every other day. She is still the scared babe who clung to me like her life depended on it. I still see her staring at me, reassuring me. I will never forget that, even if Trace never remembers.


As is self evident, Trace was a 2 month old female Koala I hugged at Lone Pines Sanctuary in Brisbane last year. She was so adorable that I miss her almost every day! I wish I could rewind and replay that moment over and over again!

Few pictures of me and Trace:


To God, With Love

Dear God,

We don’t speak a lot. I hardly every visit you or think of you or do any symbolic prayers/deeds like true believers. Honestly, I don’t even know what I believe. Despite my casual linkages with you, you have been very kind to me.

Thank you for the wonderful year. Like a fool that I am, I made mistakes, but it could have been worse had you not been there. Like a bigger fool that I proved to be, I repeated some mistakes, but it could have been even worse had you not been there.

Basically, I left no stone unturned in bringing distress and sorrow in my little, naïve world, but you always showed up at the right time before any permanent, irreparable damage could be done. There were times when I over-spoke and times when I didn’t say enough. There were times when I overanalyzed, and times when I didn’t think twice before jumping where it was bound to hurt the most. There were times when I overdid things and times when I didn’t do enough.

It’s been a year of big bloopers, big disappointments, and big misunderstandings. You were always there giving me hope, caressing my wounds, building my strength, showing me the light when everything else around was crumbling down.

You also brought some of the best gifts I’ve ever had wrapped in the finest of packages when I least expected them. You gave me a lot more than I deserved, or ever hoped for.

My life is a life of unspoken miracles if I look at it. You have been kind, you have shown your light even when I haven’t deserved it.

There are challenges; there are things that need your attention that I have been attending to in vain. I know it’s not going to be an easy road ahead. I hope to have you by my side, just like you have always been. I know I do a lousy job at acknowledging your presence, I hardly pray, my meditation routine has been erratic, almost non-existent. I regret not meditating the most. It’s just that it’s freezing! And it’s only getting colder. But I will get back to it, as soon as I can.

Thanks for the spectacular and exasperating 2012. See you around next year.

Best Always,


6 years…

6 years at WordPress

I joined the bandwagon that’s wordpress 6 years ago.

I had come from blogspot (or is it blogger now?), where for no fault of blogspot, I had made a mess of my blog. A teenager with a lot of nervous energy, I had made my earlier blog a place to rant about the unfairness of the little world I had seen till then. About the hardships a student faced in her Engineering College – assignments and college magazine publishing and general fest politics  (that’s how serious it was). I used to write when I was disappointed, or when I was angry or when I was plain bored.

Then one fine day I sat down to read my old posts and it dawned on me that they were not only pointless and nonsensical, but also for personal consumption on a rainy day. So I buried those old skeletons and fled the crime scene to reach the new and promising land of WordPress.

I called my blog “Austere Alacrity” – to constantly remind myself that I was not to repeat my old mistakes here. Besides, I love alliterations (who doesn’t?). This blog was to be strictly enthusiastic about writing. So there’s hardly anything personal on this blog. Of course it is a reflection of my personality and my experiences in life, but it’s not a personal journal of my life’s current affairs.

Fearing a mere blog title won’t be enough, I resorted to my limited french knowledge (and Google translation) to put a tagline to my blog – “Sang-Froid Est De Rigueur”, which I believe means ‘Calmness is very important’. ( If you know better, please don’t break my myth, because I won’t change my tagline. It’s way too cool and I really like it.)

So, that was that and now it’s been 6 years here! I won’t say it seems like yesterday, because it doesn’t. 6 years have felt very long. In fact, I don’t remember my lanky, careless blogspot days at all (it’s called selective memory ;)). This blog has become a deeply ingrained part of my being and it’s commendable that a person like me has kept up with it for 6 years without thinking even once “What the hell am I doing here?!!”.

It’s crazy to write fiction given the world I come from. Very few people know that I write, and fewer that I write fiction. Hardly anyone from my immediate family knows about/visits this place. Given the nature of my day job, it is inconceivable for most people to imagine I have a blog of this kind.

But crazy is good right? Right??

We’ll find out… Cheers!


And while you are at it

Dear God,

Can you give me some sunshine to soak in?

And while you are at it, can you please give me an umbrella so I don’t get too tanned?

And while you are at it, can you also give me a nice breeze so I don’t get too sweaty?

And while you are at it, can you also send some occasional clouds to keep it interesting?

And while you are at it, can you also bring some greenery and a waterfall somewhere closeby?

And while you are at it, can you also send some colorful birds chirruping in the sky?

And while you are at it, can you send the best of your people to give me company?

And after you do all of this, can you please give me some time to enjoy your blessings to my heart’s content? Even if you don’t give me everything, or not the exact same way as I wish, dear God, I beg of you, please don’t rush me!

On Life and Work…Well on Work…

Consulting is interesting. It engages you and indulges you and before you even realize, it sweeps you off your feet and into a whirlwind of unknown and untested. Never quite felt at home with what I was doing before.

There is no method to the madness and the comedy of errors has no end to it. It keeps you on the edge, makes you split your hair at times, and hits you where it hurts the most. But as you get used to the stink of the mess that’s around you, you do notice the faint sweet smell that lingers in the vicinity. Then it’s only a matter of time before that faint smell becomes the mainstream focus and the stink takes a backseat.

I also think that it’s Karma on fast-track. You get what you give and sooner than you know it. Even if you escape the direct heat by planning a quick exit strategy from the scene of crime, there are ways and means by which it gets back to you and hits you as hard as you deserve it. Hasn’t happened to me yet, not so much Bad Karma perhaps (not yet at least)!

I leave you with a song that has made me think of a new story every time I listen to it. But I haven’t even come close to penning down a single one of them. And I came across this song last year! So, this also serves as a shameful reminder of my procrastination! (But I haven’t given up on myself yet. I might just write a story and re-post the song with it.) Hope you enjoy the powerful voice! I just love it!