Happyness

                    Happiness is...

...holding your niece close to your chest..

          ...a new cat choosing you, when you are not expecting it..

...looking forward to new beginnings, for every sunrise is a promise...

Random

There are some topics that I do not dare to write on a paper. 

Writings on a paper is more honest and true, just because it's not easy to erase.

You can scratch as hard as you want, but your first choice of words, your true feeling, even the ones you taught your mind as silly or superficial, stares back at you, piercing right through your heart, causing tears to roll down your cheeks.

The words that your fingers scribble, before your mind can process the correctness or niceness or relevance or bluntness or if it is utter nonsense, are the ones that your heart says. 

The impressions the tear drops makes on paper is the seal of trust the words carry.

Fingers on paper listen to heart. 

Back to the roots

I hated lockdown from day one. 

And I realise now how much of control issues I had. I hated the idea of being restricted and controlled. I hated being forced to stay indoors. I don't mind staying indoors if that was my choice, but here being forced into that situation was stressing me out. 

Now sitting at my home, with my parents and my brother it almost feels like I am back in time. I never thought this would be possible. It wouldn't be happening without this whole corona scenario of course. Now I am starting to like lockdown, and am almost scared if it is going to get over any soon 😀

Early palakkadan mornings

Some ghazal music, a cup of light tea and all-healing early morning sun rays 😌😌

     Finally I am ready to love myself again💗

"Its Elementary, Watson"

 This 60 year old, bald headed, eccentric, cold, drug using detective impressed me with his intelligence. As a teenager, how much did I wish he was a real person. How much did I wish to be infront of his house in Baker Steet, 221 B, London. How jealous I was of Irene Adler. How much did I envy  Watson.

Watson: "It was worth a wound; it was worth many wounds; to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation."

About Adler: "To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. ... And yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable memory."