Let it Grow

If it thrives in your heart

And blooms with your blood,

Let it grow.

But if it breaks other hearts

And glooms their days,

Should you let it go?

She scribbled these words on her gloomy notebook a few years ago. She calls it gloomy because it’s a handmade book of recycled papers; those papers look dreadfully dull, as if it’s still depressed for being a part of a painful recycling process that happened long ago. She wrote this on a day she was utterly disoriented; a day she was supposed to make a life altering decision. As she was tidying her book shelf, her eyes unknowingly searched the remnants of a memorable past,and she came across this unfinished poem.

‘We blame Hamlet for his indecisiveness, but don’t we all go through the ‘to be or not to be’ dilemma at some point of time in our lives?’ she thought. When she proclaimed to the world about her inborn inclination to hunt for the treasures in Literature, what she received in return were disdainful looks,outbursts of temper and unsolicited advices; some told her that ‘literature is useless and uninteresting’,others told her that ‘literature is for the maniacs’ and several others nudged her to ‘bury her passion’. For the first time, the 18 year old girl felt burdened with the freedom of choice.A handful of people praised her in unimaginable ways and reminded her to follow her heart. But the disparaging words discouraged her, the sharpened tongues gave her brutal cuts. Bewildered, she bled on the paper and a poem was born.In a glimpse of time, she became adamant in what she believed was the best for her soul.Yes,she had to let her passion grow.Time flew, every nook and cranny of her heart filled with books and words flourished on her soul; in all these years, never did she once regret the commitment she made. In her fanciful reality, she’s falling in love with words, in new and incredible ways each day. How ridiculous it would have been, if she abandoned her passion for the sake of a bunch of humans, who cannot appreciate the beauty and grandeur of literature?

‘I’m not asking you to turn a blind eye at the damage that some people cause,by following their treacherous hearts. I’m not saying that we should blithely disregard the pain of others,if we wreak havoc on their lives to selfishly follow our passions.I’m not asking you to turn a deaf ear to the advices we receive from others.No,I’m not saying that following the heart is always the right thing to do’ She stared at the wall and told herself.

But if it thrives in your heart,and blooms with your blood, should you let it grow or let it go? She looked at her gloomy notebook once again and left the poem unfinished. For,she believes that each one of you should finish it.

Melanie Ann 🌼

Image courtesy: Pinterest

Does Liquid Happiness Exist?

Every tongue in the world deserves a toothsome celebration each day. Is that the reason why it was born on the earth? My tongue’s gala seems the most festive when it is soaked with the delicious liquid magic – the hot, dark brown, masala-tinged, tempting aroma spreading TEA.

Each time I deeply inhale the mysterious odor of tea and exhale euphoria,my spectacles mist up. Yes, tea obscures my vision delibrately to make me feel it’s presence impeccably. As I curl my tongue against the tea drops on my lips, the world around me comes to a sudden screeching halt. In a glimpse of time, I’m cut off from what I perceived was real, to enter an alternative dreamy world of pure liquid happiness and warmth. At this point, tea becomes my only reality and tea cup,the sacred place that contains this actuality. Each time it slides down my throat, like the topsoil in a landslide, I shut my eyes, not perfunctorily, but with awe and gratefulness for the existence of this enigmatic liquid that has captivated my tastebuds in all the years.

As the monsoon season arrives,tea becomes elixir. Rainy days without big fat cups filled with tea is unimaginable. Reading books became harder without holding a cup of tea. My love for tea does not cease to exist even during the scorching summers; no matter how hot the world around me is,tea continues to be an enveloping obsession amdist every other passing fads.

Being a teaholic, I marvel at the different beautiful ways in which tea rejuvenates and restores me every single day. Tea surprised me on the first day it was spilled into the corners of my mouth and I hope that it continues this splendorous recreation for my tastebuds, until my last day on this planet.

Melanie Ann 🌼

In The Memory Of My Dearest Grandmother

My grandma, a pure soul who was named Ponnu, for her heart was made of gold, is my second favourite bold woman in the world. She taught me how to love myself, to embrace my flaws, to follow my dreams, to focus on the rays of sunshine even on a cloudy day (I’m still working on that one) and most importantly, she proved with her life that every woman needs a secular job which she loves, in order to establish her identity.

She was my venting room, emotional moisturizer and cuddle bunny. And of course, my only golden ticket to the chocolate factory. She was the typical candy-bringing grandma who always had chocolates and pocket money hidden in her handbag for her grandkids.

I miss her voice,her ears that always listened to my teeny secrets and big plans,her tight hugs and tender kisses,umpteen gifts and little surprises, her phone calls and constant complaints for not calling her as much as she called me. I miss the lingering fragrance of her favourite perfumes and stealing them for myself. I wish I could secretly read her diary entries once again, like I used to do and confess later. I miss her story-telling sessions and the way in which she recited poems for me. I loved the grandma in her, who would never get tired even after hours of culinary effort to feed her loved ones. I wish I could listen to the unforgettable memories of her past, by lying next to her on the floral bedsheets, and sing songs for her, for the one last time.

I feel super proud and happy when people fondly remember her and all her acts of love and courage,even after five years of her unfortunate demise.I like to meet people who calls her a philanthropist and to hear from them the accounts of my Grandma’s compassion towards the humankind. Your absence will always be a gaping hole in my heart.

Once I believed that, in the long journey of life, we might lose things that are the most important to us. But I was wrong. The important things always stay, no matter what. I’m eagerly waiting to meet her again in the Paradise and finish the tales that we left unfinished. I’ve loved her to the infinity and beyond, and I always will.

Melanie Ann 🌼