a slippery smile

han'dhuma aavey beehilaa roalhin
han'dhuma aavey beehilaa roalhin
madumadun aadhey heefilaa heelin
han'dhuma aavey

nidhifilaadhey,
hiyani firukey,
raki vakin loodhi hoori ai reyrey
raki vakin loodhi hoori ai reyrey

han'dhuma aavey

a recurring memory [of a] passing wind
an [often] recurring memory [of a] passing wind
ascend slowly [a] warmth [an unusual absence of cold] that tickles
a recurring memory

sleeplessness rules
shadows crawl
[of the] nights, shyness disunites, slips [and came] misguided
[of the many] nights, shyness disunites, slips [and came] misguided

a recurring memory

the moving shadow

the shadow that is tied under the feet
is free to move with the blazing sun

Independence Day

Where did all the free birds fly to? The wind returned empty, and without any loose feathers that scatter. After years of leftover rains and moving sands, the ultramarine blue of the ocean is slowly swelling into turquoise lagoons and even more slowly through the aquamarine shallowness of the white sandy beaches. Free are these waters, free are the sands and even more the dancing palms that make the wind so happy passing gently through the low rise thatch cottages that once did randomly dot the isles.
Less we see them now and yet much less the wind can dance since there is hardly any palm to shelter the compounds around those cottages. We have become too independent, of each other and of ourselves, that neither the wind nor the blue of the sea is free anymore, let alone the vast starlit sky that is hardly visible anymore.
Random is the blink and not the eyes and free is the sight and not what we see. Our feet are free but not the road, our tongue is like a bird that has wings to fly but tied at the feet. And the ink flows freely from the pen but the hand that writes is guided by limited movements of a brain that is slave to another.
Independence is not a book nor a word too big or a letter at all. It is how we are to ourselves and still relate each other as a whole like how a falling rain has many tiny free falling drops that relate to each other to make the fall a complete whole.
If every individual is free then there is no need to plan, spend or fight to make a nation free. Independence is not about being free as an individual, it is the freedom of the individual minds as a whole. The bird that flies has wings but not the wind to carry hence together they fly.

taste of yellow

a lemon
grow
from green
to yellow
that taste
from bitter
to sour

.

Transparent it is, that empty glass on the table, and hollow within yet those many colourful reflections on the surface seems to fill an otherwise empty vastness. Filling slowly with a little happiness drop by drop each drop settling into a softer bed of smiling ripples that goes and goes until the reflection itself push her back. Slowly as the glass fills with happiness, emptiness spills out increasing the surrounding to yet more nothingness which is again reflected from the smooth transparent surface of the glass itself. Since the surrounding is filling with the spilling emptiness, from where is this happiness pouring into the glass, one might ask?

saturday

They are still there, and others too. If the week is a book, friday already flipped onto the other side. And one from them brought in as many news as one can say. None of them as interesting as the ones unheard and want to hear. Some in tension of the many works they have to do while still doing what they began earlier. Feeding to remain upright and asking about others who are not in sight is not unusual. The rest is normal and silent at a distance. That little alarm clock, if the battery is removed it stays silent, and then can be in an endless moment where time is still. Eyes non stop seeing things around while ears busy gathering the many that comes in. Tired feet swelling and yet need to stay a little longer, but for what? Sleep and silence sketch the bottom of the page. Not a time for a moving shadow or a music that plays of the songs they heard over and over again. The dress on the hanger and the water bottle slowly sink to be replaced by another. That rhythm again of a dual beat which keeps them as they imagine to be while slowly the tempo diminish to complete the score on the same sheet. So many taken out from where they were and held together in many other places where they never dreamt to be, like the cotton cover of the pillow, from that little seed and to far away places after so many journeys. Why still here and not where they want to be or around in groups telling so many others about what really happened. White as white and not any other but white. This saturday morning is for white, water and not wool but cotton.

tomorrow

Hoping to see the endless dream, daydreaming again sleep went on sleeping, hoping to see again and again the dream that sleep slept to see. Longing to see the timeless light, sunlight dreaming of sleeping moon and moonlight missing the warmth at night of dark nights waking with starlit sky. Morning mist reminds of yesterday, saturday especially that murmur silent words of how real today feels of surreal tomorrow and that endless dream.

a weird weekend

A sketchbook on her left hand, a pencil on her right; there she is leaning her left shoulder on the chalk white walls of the place she calls home. Her adventurous mind is not visible to someone who is standing next to her. Instead known are the shaky legs, tired eyes and the unanswered questions. She is happy that she is leaning on the walls that she painted herself and touching them seems like leaning against the wall of the reason she is here.
'Which memory shall i sketch?' her mind whispered, staring into the invisible distant door. The morning light is still wet after singing in shower and touched by the rain of the cold mystic mist. Unwrapping gift slowly hugs her gentle eyes and they close with a quiet deep inhaling breath. And release with silent damp memories as the eyes open unintentionally to see a surreal picture of the past. Many moments of soundless laughter and unseen smiles fill the colourless pages of her unfinished sketchbooks in her mind. Flipping through these pages this morning is viewed by others as pulling off lilies or clearing a rose bush. She believes that lily bulbs never ruin and a rose bush will bloom again next season.
'Which shadow shall i sketch?' again her mind focus on the sketch she wants to remember. Slowly the shadow walks across the verandah which seems like praying, humming a strange ancient scroll. The moving shadow on her face mimics her thoughts and portray the reflections of a soul deeply acquainted with herself and herself a child whence she came.
'I wish i was there!' The only wish of her is to be in that moment. Her agony washed away by the shores of timeless waters. For her leaning against that wall is like being in a ride away from home that seems long, very long and almost forever. Gazing into a point in the distance and doing nothing but let the pages of her sketchbook flip through the wind. And sometimes she thinks of completing all the tasks that she was left behind with, and all of that in one strange early morning.

untitled 1

a music, a flute perhaps
a silent song, of wind perhaps
a blue note, to escape perhaps
a fluid jazz, i sense perhaps

i follow the notes one by one
with every breath a different sound
perhaps a maudlin resonance of the past
in a rhythm of an unseen heart
over and over again
like a playback song
in the silence of an early morning
every note insanely visible
escaping through the tiny holes
sound of a simple bamboo flute
without a sound
how would it be?
to a mute audience perhaps!
making of
a beautiful music

momentous

a little prayer for Dhoantha & Angu

my prayer has no words
no sounds to hear
myself I cannot see
a picture of a soul
my sorrow unseen
like a cold dawn mist
how sudden and almost eventless
for that's here is already there by now
a momentous moment that's gone with
the smile, the talk, the caressing

my sad long silent
sounds of the day
myself unable
to hold your hand
my rare few moments
with you so special
a day is simply too short
when my soundless prayers unfold
yet a momentous moment has gone with
the smile, the talk, the caressing

red seed

balaa ai hi(n)dhu [to return came the moment] or [the moment calamity hit]

dhelolu(n) feshige(n) [beginning from both eyes]

e(n)gi nue(n)gime thikithiki oheyo [knowingly or unknowingly drip by drip, don't they fall?]

bi(n)valhu negi hi(n)dhu [carved a relief that instant]

bi(n)mathi konege(n) [by digging the earth]

bi(n) bi(n) us us koadi(n) dhoo(n)yo [land by land, high and higher manifold like an origami bird]

adifuh mathi koh [bottom turned up]

mathi machchah jehi [stack upon stack]

adi adi ga(n)du thah furumah edhemo [deep and deeper pits, a desire to fill]

fenakee echcheh [water is a thing]

nikamethi heekoh [humble (they) think]

fe(n) neiy dhirumeh bunebala dhekemo [a waterless life, tell me, have you seen?]

nikamethi ohthah [poor seedlings]

koadhulaa erihi(n)dhu [like boiling bubbles afloat]

maimoo gadhayas raki luhelumeko [taproot though strong, (it was) a shy pull off]

vakivaki aduadu [individual voices]

royadhee adhu eku [let cry together]

thadhudhi(n) mihi(n)dhu(n) vey(n)ves roeppoa [from the pain of this moment, hurt itself is crying]

ek ekkan dhui [one & one is two]

dhui eku veehi(n)dhu [the moment that two becomes one]

kaakah reki, fili foruvé vévéhishiyo [who can evade, elude or enshroud a happening?]

a silent whisper

mashi theiy mi hashi(n) [mire this body is]
hanu ma(n) manu he(n) [silent like the dumb,]
kanu beeru veylaa yo [blind & deaf times]

"fura-badhuruva*" roalhi(n) [this "*" wind (*name for current period of ancient calendar system)]
vai adu mi mashee [whispers within this clay]
himey(n) farihi eveyla yola [a silent song of an ancient gossip]

edhi edhi ma edhe(n) [how much, i wish]
mi furaana dhiya dhey(n) [to let free this soul]
fila(n) eku roalhi abadhasho [to escape with the wind forever]

alifulhu ge huvafen [the dream of alifulhu]

merivihulhu rimenufaaloa [a dimming flame might dim the vision]
maahinifenuga rudhuvaa(n)dhoa [a giant ant might be humble in water]
rekihuthuvagu vidhenufaattoa [a clever mischief might be unable to act]
alifidheke dhamafulhu maayyoa [a beauty might tame a beast]

deep translation:
the eyes that i opened is in fact a mirage (in my subconscious mind)
the moment i saw that which is far
wasn't time still and unable to bypass an escape?
as if alifulhu (archaic common name for ali) saw tomorrow

[... to be continued]

"i(n)guru" [ginger]

Imagine my friend, the wind, journeying through the ancient spice trail. And as she pass carries my aroma on her feathers that leave an unforgettable memoir of an invisible journey. I would say to my friend: "without you, where would I go". We fly across faces of varying shades like an endless ocean of differing tints of a single hue. We glide across minds of many dreams carrying our songs of infinite melody from a few simple notes.

doctor, pls

Two days ago I had to go to the hospital, no not me (thanks to someone I rarely have to consult a doctor). She had a throat pain so I thought it would be better to call up and check where an ENT specialist is. Did not call the gov. hospital because I already know how much time it takes to get an appointment, that is if there is an ENT on duty, if not have to go in the early morning and wait in a queue. So called the other, that is private, hospital. I had to listen to a recorded message and follow up on a certain number to get to my required station. I wanted to get doctors duty and know if there is an ENT on duty. But that link did not pick up so waited thinking might go back to an operator but no I had to call again and follow the same. This time pressed the number the recording gave for the customer service and again did not pick. So called three other private, but smaller, clinics and found out that only one place had an ENT specialist but the doctor will be on duty only in the evening and that is about five hours from then. So again tried the private hospital I was calling earlier and luckily or not got hold of someone. I was told that the ENT just began todays consultation and if I went right that moment I might be able to get a token. So that was a happy info and went straight away, yes of course with her. Pressed the digital queue system and got a number which is only for the reception counter to get appointment. Soon our number was on and went to counter and got #15 for the doctor and when checked the flat display on a wall #2 was on. I thought thats not too far away and soon we might have to go in. So went and sat closer to the consultation room where there was another token number display screen right in front. Another tv with bbc channel was on and a beautiful british indian girl (I think, because I do not watch news or tv channels a lot) was presenting but the sound was off. It's interesting to watch without sound because what I see is rapid tiring lip movement which they might not realize how much they are smiling or feeling sorrow along with eye brow jumping up and down, head tilting to and fro left to right, shoulders going up and down and hands dancing with fingers in exciting movements. But every now and then I had to look at the other screen, which is not working well the still content on that screen is rolling as if a flipping screen, to see the token number which was still at #2. After sometime numbers started moving and in adequate time to see each patient. But after #10 again stopped and did not change for 15mins ... and still after 30mins nothing happened. When about 45mins passed I went and asked the receptionist and she called the consulting room and talked with the assistant (I guess) there and then she told me that the doctor took a break!! Slowly I went back and sat since I do not argue at such situations. Just after that I saw someone like a doctor hurriedly passing and going into the consultation room so I guessed he was reminded of the patients waiting. He was chewing something as he went so I think he must have had a nice chat at the coffee shop at the hospital. I thought that doctors were given enough rest time in between each consultation period. Maybe a period of 4, 6 or 8 hours of work followed by the similar periods of break before they come again. Slowly again the numbers started to move and finally after about 2 and half hours or more our turn came and we went in and it took only five minutes. He simply asked her to open her mouth, then he looked in and pressed her neck looked into her ears and thats it, wrote a prescription and asked to return in five days if not better to do a blood test and a thyroid function test. That day for us waiting for few hours was not a big issue but imagine that for an elderly or for a little child. If there is no emergency they do not take in immediately into the ER. So that was when I thought that why don't hospitals have mobile doctors (like how there were mobile order taking waiters in a fast-food in china that we experienced a few years back who came to us while we were in waiting and took orders of all and in no time after we were seated our meal was presented) who can go around waiting areas for quick checkups. I am sure about 80% of those waiting are there for simple checkups or on mild conditions. And a "quicky" doc can have a look and prescribe and send them away in few minutes of their arrival and while they are waiting in the lounge. If need to do a private checkup can move those patients into a close by checkup room or else not. I think this will save a lot of the patients time and the hospital waiting area congestion (not to mention the difficulty of seating on those rubber canvas covered seats producing so much heat even in aircon lounges like that and feels as if getting the trousers damp. When we came back it was exactly three hours since we went there!! She could not say much that day due to her throat problem but otherwise she would have had a story of her own, and would have sent me to counter every five minutes.
This day reminded me of a day we had to find a dentist an year ago. That time she was down south in laamu atoll for about two months to see work at our home and also to enjoy the preparation for the eid celebrations there. I went for the last one week to accompany her return and suddenly she had a toothache and we had to get a flight and come back on the night in the middle of the festive activities. First we tried to get to the regional hospital there but there was no dental facility. On our return we tried the gov. hospital and was the specialists were on eid leave. Then tried the private hospital and was told that an appointment is not possible. So tried a few private dental clinics and no doctors during eid. And since we could wait for a whole week of eid to pass we decided to go abroad the same day but luckily got one appointment for the next day in another private clinic.

dhiye

hashi filaidhé (body escapes [when mind goes insane] )
vehilaa vaaré (from the falling rain)
beehilaahi(n)dhu ha(n)dhuma aavé (renews a remembrance from that feeling of touch)

handhuma vé dhiye (remembering "dhiye" [a common name for a girl] )

fenunu réré (from the sight of the many nights)
kanu dheloa vé (blind goes both eyes)
ha(n)dhuvaru nethi aliha(n)dhuvaru ohidhé (without moonlight, kept pouring as if a brighter moonlight)

handhuma vé dhiye (remembering "dhiye" [a common name for a girl] )

thiki thiki(n)né (by the drop by drop)
raki fiyai(n)né (from the shy "wings" [from the shy lashes] )
ohilaa manzaru "hiyanivaru" vé (as if a reflection of a falling scenery)

handhuma vé dhiye (remembering "dhiye" [a common name for a girl] )

miya kanu(n)né (from the corner of the sharp side [corner of the mouth] )
hini thu(n)di(n)né (as if a smiling sand spit [highly dynamic sand bank] [in between a smile and not a smile] )
uni ma furihama vee ha(n)dhainé (I remember my incomplete self becoming complete)

handhuma vé dhiye (remembering "dhiye" [a common name for a girl] )

maniké

maniké hiyaalu aadhetho aimaa nidheynehé
molhiyé vanee hayaathuga mulhiré nidheynehé
maniké hiyaalu

laa névayaa ekeega ohémee ha(n)dhaineké
hooré vayaa ekeega olhéthee nidhénehé
maniké hiyaalu

heevé govaalaé mihasheegaa tholhé vayaa
roolhé mihiiy gethétho ulhéthee nidhénehé
maniké hiyaalu

hamahé mageydhiyé eré vidhuvaruge baarugaa
ravakalhi asarugavaa hinivarunai(n) nidhénehé
maniké hiyaalu

bubbles

Listening to a beautiful classical eastern song and singing it aloud while sketching a design doesn't stop my mind wandering beyond my physical self. I am thinking about this for sometime now. Solutions to social unrest and how to build a steady even bridge between a hut and the skyscrapers. Solutions sound liquid most instances, and they are stirred every now and then. It makes clear that two or more are needed to make a solution. The simplest solution, water is made up of two, and one of them is another two. I am myself alone but you are not far away. Together we make a good solution and we shall need a bigger bucket when, even if slowly, the solution increase in a diverse kaleidoscope of tasty reflections.
Some say that they cannot understand some of my writings and they are very true. Some writings I imagine in my mother tongue and what you see are translations for this blog and hence hoping access for more readers. And these writings might not have the correct english because I rarely pass in that language at school. Read or not, I am not Shakespeare, but neither Shakespeare nor another is me and they did not write as I did.
But I am serious about the social solution that together we can mix. See my eyes are already getting smaller and forehead curling up, a prelude to my seriousness, but the singing is still here. Oh! this is a beautiful song. I think I want to write a translation of this right now, thats a break on social juice:
- begin translate -
"(as) that one's thought bubbles, (those thoughts) kept bubbling
insane life became and remained
that one's thoughts ...
every breath, is someone's memory
queasiness kept on increasing
that one's thoughts...
from this heart springs a friend's call
uninhabited my heart was , (which) kept inhabiting
that one's thoughts ...
(as if) lightening struck my consciousness
(from her) intoxicating looks, (i) kept drinking
as that one's thought bubbles, (those thoughts) kept bubbling
insane life became and remained
that one's thoughts ..." - end translate -
Where were we, oh! i think you had enough ... so lets not intoxicate our real solution with that. Speaking of solutions reminds me of a watermelon juice that I made sometime earlier. With lots of crushed ice and a little lime, a little papaya for the pulpiness and flesh colour when mixed with watermelon. Add a little fresh sugar cane juice for sweetness. Of course tummy will not sing merry-go-round the mulberry bush. But this week its screw pine juice cooked from fresh bunch sent from my vacation home in south-central. One of these days I should upload a photo of that screw pine. Too much diversion is not good at this early morning hours since I have to be at the airport at 0800hrs. No, am not going abroad but to an island to see the existing buildings and site prior to making a redevelopment concept. Projects for the year are now at inception stage.
Now am proposing my contribution in creating the solution for the first mentioned social juice. "Free" is my ingredient and I want you to add yours, and yes, yours too. If everyone does or provide everything free then the need may never arise to create any more solutions. Some may say that this is impossible, but I see it happening slowly. I wish and hope to see that day even if on my 100th birthday in 2071 or little later. Think it in simple terms. Let's begin from me and then you and you and so on. If I do everything free (suppose if I do), you might think how would I survive for my basics like food, shelter, clothing and then bills and other necessities. But if a grocer does the same, then I get fed, building materials and contractor the same and retail clothing shops the same and so on. But again you might say how would those people then give away their goods and services for free since they have to buy goods and hire staff. But I would say that If the cycle continues at the farmers level, the raw material level and work for them too for free since they even get everything free.... Am I confusing you or I am not understanding the economics of a social juice. To put it even simpler, I would say that when everyone and everything is free then there would not arise a need for any price tag and no one will be greedy either. Ultimately the precipitants in the social juice will settle (even if ground in a mixer still there would be some tiny particles left to settle) and a clean and tasty and colourful juice is what we have for everyone to taste. But what if the glass is not clean?

my math class

I love numbers. Why do I believe that am still learning to count? And I haven't yet gone beyond the number one. I began from nine and am stuck at one.
Nine is so small that I cannot see. How many letters do I have in my name? I count it as eight but they spell my name in different ways that I get so confused and begin mid way every time. I have to begin counting again. People say that there are seven heavens but I cannot see them hence they must be really small and definitely not big because big things are visible to our eyes, see for example the stars which are clearly seen to our naked eyes even from that far, but not as small as nine which so infinite and myself, eight because I have two holes. They say that the universe was created in six days and that must be a fairly average number in those days. With our legs, hands and head we can point five continents at the same time so that must be a big lead to follow. Four seasons are so big that no one sees all of them at the same time, nor they sleep in all of them at once. Where are the three musketeers now? Two of us can make a wild big nation (that is if we know how to keep statistics of population growth!). And here we are at one. One is so big that I cannot lift her with my one hand. 

why

am i water
that split as fire
and drinks all air
to sleep as earth

me, me not

why I write, my eyes know not
my fingers idle, my mind infer but
why do I write, my tongue sonant not
my story endless, my friend invisible but
why my heart walks, my footprints red not
my past of gray, my future is white but
why I write, I still know not
myself I am, myself I am but

reflection of my invisible friend

Those eyes look like a parallel universe so still yet constantly wandering in the dust of a precise chaos. Ancient in origin yet unknown and surprising like a new born. Quiet like a nun yet curious to know more about what lies beyond.
During the time of a great flood the universe cannot hold an overflow which slowly spill along the infinite paths of her smooth and soft cheeks like colourless diamonds that reflect her colourful world around. Precious little gems timely fill the ark beneath that is beautifully smiling sailing through a rough sea. No one else but her knows that the ark is only a mean to reach the sandy shores but its reflection the sadly inverted ark is the true reality hidden and invisible to the many who only have a glimpse of a sailing mast from a distance.

0000hrs

I heard that tomorrow (correction: "today", now it is 0045hrs. Sat to write this a few click clicks earlier, but left blank for no good reason) is our national day. Yes again.
I remember writing about this same day last year. That was on 16th February, 2010. Since we mark this day by lunar calendar, there is a twelve day difference this year. For the last five centuries we are marking this day.
I am not confused, but some are for certain. So many calendar systems and even more date differences is something to turn heads around.
At first there lived (i guess) few humans and more other species (like animals). So these few brainy ones must have tried to be too smart and began complicated systems, which eventually confused themselves. Obviously the other types living on this planet did not have to bother about nor need to understand or use these systems.
If we had developed a calendar (i would not have done so) with only one day (imagine that), how simple life would have been. There will be only "today". When we wake up (If we woke to be precise) it will be an extension of the same day, simply after the not-so-lucky break. And for those who didn't make it, it will be the lucky break for them to spend the infinite extension of today where they wouldn't need a break at all (i guess).
What is this thing that we named "time". Our senses cannot sense it, like our souls. We have no control over it. But we proudly say that we have divided it into many so called days and smashed it into some things we call clicks.
Imagine what would have happened if our ancestors had decided to choose a different thinking process along their way. Out of the many, many (am i counting here?) thought processes, if they chose to go another way, have we not progressed further more?
Imagine alone the time we spent counting fingers, sticks, bone marks, chalk marks or whatever. If we chose to use that time for some real productive thinking, Have we not spread across the universe by now?
Lets get real here. I think even I am now wasting precious pupurupus time (my creative time). Yet for now I cannot change what our ancestors did (scratching their heads or running after the opposite, ahh! thats one good thing they did, no wonder why we are here) but I can certainly change how my offsprings (when i get that is, I think this is one very important thing that I haven't learned from my ancestors) think.
When i am sitting here I am alone, and when I walk on the busy streets of the town I am still alone. Yes obviously there is another right now right here and close by. And when I walk on the streets there are many, many more. But like the many other objects around me, the objects that look like my kind of objects, seems to me as moving objects. A building is so still, though the trees slightly wave at me. They seem to come and go pass behind me. The presence that I am here on a "today" seems lacking in everything else. Am I standing on the rim of an empty transparent glass of water. The rest seems like a reflection or a refraction thats always changing. Or am I the water within.
Yes, a nation is out there. Buildings, trees, roads, and many other such things along with so many who have a close resemblance to me, so must be a species having a part of me.
Everything that makes a nation is here, including a national day. The only thing lacking is the connection. A link that connects one another, one object to the other, a building to the surrounding, a space to the place. A transitional space, a threshold.