“through the act of living, the discovery of oneself is made concurrently with the discovery of the world around us. . ."

Monday, December 26, 2011


At the back of my mind
Lies an undigested piece of thought -
That I have to leave my home tomorrow.

My bike carries me through these streets
Along the familiar scenes, pauses
At the places so known to me -
The coffeshops, bookshops, my haunts -
The libraries, the gardens, my previous office
The corners where I have hung around,watching
The milling crowds, a few faces recognized and nodded at.
Faces from my past, faces that have grown old with mine.

The city has grown, its roads wider and cleaner
Trees and corner shops have given way
To malls and multistoreyed monstrosities.
I try hard to remember what were there before
The old, tile-roofed houses replaced
By towering apartments and star hotels.

I realize what hurts me, this dull ache
In the pit of my mind -
I cannot leave this town, this is my home.

However I may dream and yearn
For the snow-clad peaks and seas of forests -
Destinations to reach and then to leave -
To return to my home, this little corner of the world.
I leave for the hills, lands strange and far away
Safe, in the thought that there is always my home
To come back at the end of the day.

I realize why ghosts linger -
Like me now, in the shadows
Of this garden of my life.

************ Balachandran V, Trivandrum, 19-12-2011


  1. Beautiful !Somehow reminds me of the song 'Country Roads'by John Denver.

  2. Wonder if all things are an illusion or a delusion.

    Feelings were well brought out in those lines.

  3. Bala sir. these are the thoughts which we both have in common.

  4. നാളെ,
    ഞാനെന്റെ ജന്മസ്ഥലം ഉപേക്ഷിക്കേണ്ടി വരുമെന്ന ,
    ഒരു ചെറിയ വിചാരം
    ഹൃദയത്തിന്റെ പിന്നാമ്പുറങ്ങളില്‍
    ദഹിക്കാതെ കിടക്കുന്നു.


  5. Well,that brings up kind of uneasiness and pain.I too have memories of Trivandrum.Which I often recollect with a smile.

    Usually we call it as roots.Which we identify ourselves with.Natural Balachandran.Still I have to say that when we don't have anything to identify with,there starts the real real search.Meaningful one.Which may take you to the unknown spheres.It's a mind game.We love to recollect.We adore memories.When you once leave the place,the house,the person,you feel the hollow.The vacuum.Isn't it Balachandran ? what's then the reality ? The relation of these images and sounds that familiarity brings in,we as atmas somehow get into those.In fact,we love to be enslaved.That comes with our identity and safety.

    Btw,I don't know why today I miss the small restaurant opp Hindu (Vayalil ?) and the nice morning walks from vellayambalam to kawdiyar..


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