Romantic puddles !

 

Romantic puddles

“How is it

That there was never you

Until there was

And then all was you?”- kamand Kojouri-British poet

Evening was reflective and meditative run was great. Siesta was refreshing. New year eve. 2020 was a teacher with due respects.

Puddle- 0

Puddles; mulling with clouds; Shall say; talking about romantic puddles is tad easier than purging them about on fonts. Am, certainly not sure, about my earliest puddle from last century; however, a girl called Vijaya, (names not changed) in primary school, may have been my first crush. I remember her for being my play time companion; the details are unclear and blurred; though better than the past 10 months with COVID. I was 7 or eight.

Puddle -I

 “The stars have gone mental (like me)

   As they are confused between your face (my lover) and moon” - (Tiruvalluvar in English).

That’s how I was with my second crush; a next-door neighbour; a relative of a tenant in our long-stretched Chennai 1900’s house. She had come somewhere from north, Hindi speaking, Tamilian. Round facied like a pumpkin and I fancied her. She came and stayed for a month or so with her grandmother and seared my tender heart and my erstwhile physique on her return.

I was doing year seven; was not the same ever again; I had come off age (!), was 12 years and was definitely confused for the following few months.

“Mathiyum madanthai muganum ariya

Pathiyir kalangiya meen” - (Tiruvalluvar, 2000 years ago).

I was the Pathiyir kalangiya meen (disoriented one)!

Puddle -II

For couple of years I was romantically teething on with on screen liaisons; yellow tabloids; virtual realties; puddles and girls, all around the town. Then arrived this girl with a bang; who was an elder, pretty sister of a boy from my school and was incessantly giving me palpitations, heartburns, chest pain, air hunger and what not, to my frail, tender, poor green soul, for a whole year, when, what I would be yearning for would be just a fleeting eye contact. Alas, she would be looking down, a blank emoji and mull away, from those few minutes of hot lunch time sojourns, with a smile. Mind you, the timing has to be perfect for those crosses over saunas; lest wait another long 24 hours!

Tiruvalluvar is very apt, when he says,

“Yaan-nokkum kaalai nilan-nokkum nokkakkaal

Thaannokki mella nagum”

(When I look at her, her head droops, When I don’t, 

She looks at me with a smirk!)

Puddle - III

At 15, I fell for a girl called Ramya, (names not changed, yet) short, younger sister of my sister’s close mate. As old as me, Ramya lived in same street as I, almost the tip of the road abutting a main road. Hence was constantly abutting my heart, every time she would walk past me, in the evenings, en -route to a Type Writing Institute; me perched at the patio- cum veranda of my house, with my heart galloping like a horse.

“She had a pair of beautiful eyes; and if lilies had seen them, 

They will bow and say “we can’t rival your eyes”.

“Kaanin kuvalai kavizhundhu nilannokkum

Maanizhai kan-ovvem endru”. (Tiruvalluvar 2000 years ago)

This dreamy somnambulistic infatuation period lasted for almost a year before it came to an abrupt halt one evening, when a searing blow, landed on my head from (my) father’s strong hand, who possibly was not in a good mood and may have lost a lot in his rummy games. He didn’t tell, why he beat me, not until his demise!

“And let me be a slave to achieve that maid

Whose sudden sight hath thrilled my wounded eye” –Shakespeare. 

My Appa may be turning in his grave.

Romantic puddles

Most of them were short lived. Nonetheless, linger in my mind incessantly. Creating ripple, now and then. Had kissed none, even by the end of puddle 3, though have come off age. Albeit, was startled to learn from books, friends, relatives, voyeuristic bachelors that babies were born through certain part of females, Vagina; and also, other lurid details. Sixteen and 17 hence were spent mostly at school, books; day dreaming and eventually managing medical school, to my disappointment, very nearer to our home. 

“Good night, good night!

Parting is such sweet sorrow,

That I shall say good night till it be Tomorrow” - Shakespeare, Romeo Juliet.

I may come with more romantic puddles in 2021 

Profound words and profoundly insane; Happy New year 2021, folks, stay safe!

(Pic courtesy- unknown French artist)