The Downward Spiral


Uncannily, she could feel things were spiraling out of control. Downward. She could hear a million voices inside her head, talking all at once. No, they were only four or five- family, relatives, friends, coworkers. But they said things all at once and they went on and on. Sometimes, one or two stopped but they were only silent for a little while. They would never leave her alone.

Her mouth went dry as she walked down the block to run an errand, an ordinary errand. Her heart raced, her hands sweated and she was light headed. There was no one in sight and she dizzily wondered if she should not sit down on one of the benches along the sidewalk.

She could hardly bring herself to answer the phone. Don’t let it ring, please. She looked down at her toes as she crossed streets to avoid acquaintances. Tomorrow, she promised herself, I will call out a greeting. Today, she was just tired.

Everything was tiring. She wanted to sleep more and more. Life was in slow motion. There were things happening, changes coming, children growing, elders getting older but her bubble kept her safe.

She went through her routine. It became intolerable after it became boring. And then she had no energy.

She ate and ate to fill up the void inside her but still the hole kept getting bigger. There was desperation inside her and around her but she could not take a step through the fog around her.

I need help, she thought. And thought of her one friend who understood depression.

Depression is one of the illnesses which still has a lot of misconceptions. The person who is ill is unable to communicate how he or she feels. Family and friends just want the patient to ‘snap out of the mood’. It is time we spread awareness in our own small ways. This post is my attempt to start people thinking.


New door for the Temple

Juxtaposition of old and new. This intricately carved door is meant to beautify a small temple. A new roof is being built in the style of the local architecture and a bigger hall has been constructed. The frames just beckoned to be captured.

Posted in response to Trablogger’s  Mundane Monday Challenge # 12.

Risen from the Ruins

The Inflatable Pillow

Today, as I lay down for my nap, I let my mind drift before sleep overcame my senses. The chores, the pleasant talks and the unpleasant danced around in my head and then I saw clearly a vision. I saw dad lowering himself on a jute bed, his head finally resting on a beige inflatable pillow.

This must have happened some 30 years ago. I was startled because this had nothing to do with my present reality yet I could see the scene clearly. This was the time dad was constructing our house and we would go and check on the progress every weekend, spending the morning and the afternoon there. I could feel the mild heat, see the uncemented brick walls and the workers getting on with the work. It was not a huge house; the first floor of the house seemed almost claustrophobic even to my young and carefree self. I could see the walls encroaching on the open space and water storage tanks being put in. Those were the days of concrete tanks, the ubiquitous black plastic tanks were yet to make an appearance and when they did I was mesmerised by the black cylindrical structures that sat atop all roofs. For the moment though – the moment of the inflatable pillow, I liked those tanks. We put rusted cans on the bottom and jumped in; standing atop the cans and enjoying a dip. It was all done when mom was not around because that would have meant behaving in the most ladylike manner.

So, I saw dad in the unfinished house-the house that is all furnished and cared for and in which he lives now. I did not call him today to wish a happy father’s day because that is not what our relationship is like. We don’t believe in days that celebrate a relationship. We believe in being father and daughter. We are not chums- not the high fiving, backslapping friends. For me he is just dad. To be obeyed, respected, loved but not in an open, brash manner. He is just always there, like a rock, like a foundation on which I stand, like a vision I draw my identity from. He is doing all that a father is supposed to do. And I hope that he sees some of the things in me that he wanted in a daughter of his.


I make a beeline for my morning cups early. To water the little plants I have in my old, chipped cups. I could not throw them, so I made them planters.

Posted in response to Photrablogger’s Mundane Monday Challenge.

The challenge encourages you to find beauty in everyday, mundane things. It has certainly made me slow down and appreciate the world around me.

To participate, hop over to his wonderful travel blog.

The Morning Cuppa’

Admittedly, the In-Between moments are sometimes even better than the goal. Enjoy the journey, as you make your way to your destination!

I like to savour the path, its mysteries and its beauty. Here are some of the photos I clicked on my way to here and there.


Trail through the Woods


The Stairs


To the Temple

Posted in response to Weekly Photo Challenge

On the Way