Healing hiatus: the other name for my Writer's Block

So many times over the past several months have I opened the blog post page, hoped to write something, and not done it. For those churning out thousands of words in a day, it may sound silly. For those outside of writing profession, it may not even exist. 

After all, what is a professional peddler of words supposed to do? Write. Is it not?

But I could not. The desktop screen would stare at me, taunting. My fingers would want to vent all rage on the keys, pound them ceaselessly - about life, about problems, people. Still, I would go blank. They call it writer's block.


No regrets about what happened at all. Some blog readers have often asked me what happened to the blog. The blog was always here. It was I who was away. I have no apologies to offer. Absolutely none. Because I am not sorry.

Am not sorry, because what happened was something beyond my control. Destiny hits you hard when you least expect it. You walk into its menacing mace, completely unprepared for a blind turn, or a walled mirage. And fall. It takes time to heal from a fall, whatever its form. What defines us, is how soon we push ourselves to get up after that fall. Here I am.

I thank each reader, for enduring me through the absence. Frustrating as it can be, to open your favourite blog, almost by habit, and find no updates - thank you for that faith in me.

So where was I all along? Let's say, on a healing hiatus - completely health imposed and all that's associated. In future posts, I may end up writing about this whole complex process of healing. For now, all I want to say is, your belief got me this far. Thank you, dear reader.

I have finally keyed in something. Have I finally gotten over my writer's block? If yes, you deserve credit.

Quarter of a year, and tales untold

A whole quarter of the year went by without me blogging. It feels like words forgot me. Or did I forget them?

It's not as if I did not want to blog. My thoughts through the day have however been preoccupied with what to eat, how to make it, how much to rest in the day, will i make it through the day? Has my health condition improved? Or has it gone down the dumps again? Will I make it to the stationery store closeby to buy some craft material? Does the vegetable I had for food have enough nutrients to cure my illness?

I did something today, that I never did before during the course of my treatment - sought out an online support group. Reading through others' experiences, mostly from another part of the globe, has thrown up some universal facts about the medical profession - that doctors across the globe just don't seem to have enough time for their patients.

Patients, are at loss to know the methods of treatments, the diet they must go through, if their condition is curable, incurable, persistent, intermittent, will it bring more pain or is there hope? All the same, it was such a relief to see a support group! In times of internet aided loneliness, relatives who live in the same city but are caught up with their own troubles, and the rarity of true friends in a new city, such groups come as solace.

I am not sure if I will write in the same things that I wrote about in the past, when I began this blog that is.
For some strange reason, priorities seem to have changed, issues that concerned me earlier no longer concern me the same way now. I wrote about issues, problems of the world, unhappy people, poverty, abuse, politics. I am now concerned about wellness, positivity, happy thoughts, interiors, decor, natural treatments and the like.

I do not as much as know if I will pen as frequently in this blog. But one thing I can say - Writing on Sand, is part of my identity, even if a virtual one. Am thankful to the readers who have been patient with me. Am hoping, you endure me further too. Pray I write.

Ganesha and the nut

The elephant God is a design delight. Expressions based on him, his form, shape and size, emerge practically everyday in millions, pan India. The Shravan-Karthik season is a perfect time for innovative designs to emerge from the closet.

My most recent find was something I chose not to pick up, but just admire at the craft stall. Ganesha.

Look close. This Ganesha is special, because he looks every bit the kind who is not assaulted with chemical paint, but emerged creatively from nature's own gifts - traditional ones at that. It's the areca nut, or betel nut as it's lovingly called in the South, that finds its way as offering to married women during festivities. The entrepreneur's knack of using it to carve out divine shapes did not go in vain.

This set, is of Radha Krishna. Some beads and sequins have found their way to adorn the otherwise natural looking deities. Beneath them, is a tiny Ganesha. These pictures are not of best quality, but I loved the way this artist put together divinity with things so earthy you would love to have on your showcase. They have the tribal feel, spelling brains at work with devotion.


On my second visit to the crafts bazaar at Valluvar Kottam, they had all vanished.

``woh ek aurat aake sab kuch le gayi - dusshera ke liye. kuch bhi nahin choda'', said the stall owner. Good work does have its takers! Only wish there were more such pieces!

Pic Courtesy: M Radhika

Should worship mean grandeur?

It's a question haunting my mind always. Should prayer and worship be austere or spell grandeur? I mean, are not those people who feel closer to God, those who give up mundane pleasures in life? Are not such people what we would term, simple in their ways of life? Should devotion mean having to own crores of rupees and donate it to temple in lieu of some privileges such as darshans, poojas and the like?

It's something I have been thinking of always, but with the festive season pre-occupying our heads now, and the general `herded' feeling in the bargain, am battling the arguments in my head. These are times when display of devotion seems to matter more than devotion itself. While I do revel in the doses of creative expression of such devotion, obsession with the what pleases the eye, too much love for glitter - these are things that sooner or later put me off. We humans hanker a great deal after symbolism. It's fine. The problem is, when we judge people by it.

I faced such a dilemma the evening before one of those important poojas, for me personally. The Saraswathi Pooja. The day, that falls around the time of Vijayadashami, is when people decorate their vehicles, pull out their books, tools and worship the lot in all earnestness. In Chennai, there were times I'd gape at cycle rickshaws, the most common mode of transport two decades back. Their wheels would be decorated with festoons that you would envy.

Shocking pink, lemon yellow, white, red, orange...shining papers! My eyes that usually got stuck with the glitter-gold mirrors of sweet shops would feast on these wheels that looked so lovely when they moved! So much in contrast with the grave faces of people who rode them or travelled in them! And so smooth when the rickshaw man pedalled them!

Why would not one want to decorate their home too on a festive occasion of this sort? And why not go more organic? Need of the hour! Your responsibility towards planet earth! Time to press the pause button....Oh no! Guilt has its ways!


The organic dream got shattered though. It's not like I had enough money to spare for strung flowers whose prices dramatically shot up from Rs 10 a foot to Rs 20! Overnight! It's not like I had the energy to travel all the way to places where they sold banana leaves and coconut-flower festoons! Goddess Saraswathi deserves worship. But when your body's so weak, all you can do is with what is around home.

Worship with love. Yes it happened. Worship with the internet to aid you. True true - it's possible! A few dining table mats - fabric and bamboo, that rarely got used because we have not bought a dining table, found their way for decoration. A bunch of flowers that hubby bought the day before still stood fresh to welcome the Goddess! He did manage to get me some flowers, though a lot less against what I'd normally use. Still, I knew we did not need a cartload of flowers to display worship! I spent an hour making a rangoli too, with some old packets of colours, some rice flour, kumkum and turmeric.

Am not sure how pleased she was with me that day. I hope she was! One only hopes Gods are happy. No measure to indicate it! But something good happened that day. I cannot remember what. Thanks to her!

I've had my share of symbolic worship. And liked it too.

Here are some pics:

- underneath the pale mustard colour cloth, actually a blouse-piece, are books my husband and I hold to our hearts, and a newspaper

- kumkum and turmeric - my saviours, for the day!

- these beads, my favourite rosary ever since I picked them up at Shirdi, are a treasure for chanting!

My mind does not rest still -the question continues to haunt, long after the pooja - should grandeur in symbolism mark worship, or austerity? If it must be austerity, why do we humans end up killing each other in the name of God? Why do we judge our own dear ones by what they wear and how they wear, to worship?
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