sushma-madappa
Sushma Madappa, in a parallel universe, is a bohemian artist, a gypsy and a wanderer, living in a quaint little village by the sea. All she does during the day is paint, cook and spend time with a dozen messy kids with happy faces. / By night she morphs into a hostess who puts together the most perfect soirees and serves gourmet food and wine. What happens to the kids? Well, hopefully they morph into the Von Trapp kids and have Julie Andrews for a governess, given her love for Hollywood classics. / / In this universe, she is an ex-market researcher, ex-educationalist turned design blogger, DIY junkie, furniture designer, amateur writer and a foodie with gastronomical dreams of astronomical proportions! / / You can connect with her on her blog:http://thepurpleyellowbeetle.blogspot.in/ or / Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thepurpleyellowbeetle.
I often wonder if I would ever run into you.
If I do, how would it play out?
So, I imagine a scenario where Iam shopping at a supermarket, walking down the aisle, pushing my cart,
looking for some mundane little thing and there you will be,
next to the cereal aisle, holding your favorite brand of cereal.
What would we do?
Will one of us lean in for a hug,
smile awkwardly at each other or
behave like strangers?
Would we exchange numbers,
With a promise to catch up soon or do
the most natural thing in the world-
go to the nearest cafe or pub and
have coffee or a drink or two together.
Share our stories, wish each other well and part as friends.
I hope that's what we'd do.
I would love to walk down that aisle with you.
I look for you in every supermarket in the world, I step into.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 10:04 PM UTC
The memories fade
The hurt abate
The scars so deep;
The flecks of red
on walls so white.
Sole testimony to the time.
The knowing smiles
The intoxicated wiles
Lie abandoned in the
dustiest attics of our minds
While here I stand
Outside myself
Done and dusted
Weaving tales of a distant time
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 1:49 AM UTC
Sifting through my memories
I chanced upon one.
The one I keep tucked away
in the darkness of my vault.
Only to be brought out for a feel of home.
Of a dusk spent, legs dangling
oe'r a window ledge.
When you came up from behind
and hugged me so.
The hug lingers on.
As do fragments of you
Now lost forever.
Like the *** end of a story,
still waiting to be told.
As I pick up the remnants of a life that once was,
I return to the one that is.
The one that I am half way through.
While I am not yet through
And just maybe, we are not through.
I dream dreams of you.
In the darkness, I ***** for you
Bereft of us, when I wake up to myself.
You wave out of the frame and smile just so.
As though to say I told you so.
And I think to myself
Of all the memories, of all the people
in all the world,
I had to trip over this one, of you.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 2:14 AM UTC
Every once in a while the sun stages an intervention;
Sunshine jostles its way through a crowd of raindrops, to find me.
Swathed in the golden glow of inspired light, I dance in the rain;
Safe in the knowledge that my bit of sunshine is lurking in the shadows, waiting to jump me.
In that moment of perfect light, thoughts explode into a million little pieces of scattered dreams, basking in the brilliant afterglow of sun kissed love.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 1:18 AM UTC
The act of living itself can be such a chore sometimes.
I would rather escape into the lives of people in
stories, in old black and white pictures, films and art;
Or even the myriad possibilities that exist in
the universe that I call my brain.
How many mindless moments must I cross off my list
before I may pause to find solace in the wonders of my mind!
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC
It was inevitable
Layers of you peeling away slowly
Day upon day, week upon week
Tantalising, teasing, tempting me back to myself
Surprisingly painless
Ridiculously simple
Brutally quick
Mocking me with its ease
Unforgiving, unnerving even
Oh how easy it was to let go
But let be? Maybe not.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 10:22 AM UTC
The spotlight fades, the curtain falls;
I lay in the dark, close my eyes
And play audience to a celestial symphony of my very own.
Brilliantly lit stars scuttle across
with barely contained urgency.
Trying to find their way home in the dark;
Seeking their designated spot;
Collapsing, colliding, alligning;
Finally coming to a stand still;
To form a pattern - a semblance of home;
Playing their part in the constellation.
Lo and behold, a planet clothed in flaming orange
Darts acroos the sky, pauses to catch it's breath;
Then explodes - into a million little fragments;
Breathtaking, brutal and brilliant, all at once.
Dreams waiting to be sought, seen, serenaded;
And I wake up - to a new show, a new stage, new actors
and yet another spin around the sun!
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
Every dawn is pregnant with aspirations and anticipation
It’s only at dusk that we are in limbo,
Fraught with a polarity of purpose and possibility;
and a duality to self and the soul.
Every dusk comes with its share of positivity blended with negativity,
Practicality speckled with spirituality,
Optimism dusted with cynicism;
Possibilities punctuated with improbabilities;
And a reality rendered palatable through rose tinted fantasy.
Every dusk is witness to a purging of the unwanted and unnecessary;
And plays host to a catharsis that cleanses and calms the soul.
A bittersweet end to what could have been, would have been, should have been.
Every dusk is a pregnant pause of what can be and what will be.
*Inspired by a series of images captured at dusk through my lens, in different parts of the world.
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 10:12 AM UTC