What is it about a hot shower that washes your tears away? The allure of a clean slate? Or the promise of sins soaped away? I feel every drop of water that splashed against my worn and calloused skin, my skin that has felt so much; my feet that took me places I’ve only dreamt of, my hands that have held on to anchors, my face where I’ve felt your kiss a thousand times and the scar that is still tender from yesterday.

I stand here beneath this rain and surrender myself in your hands. Oh if only the Gods could hear me now! Wash away my sins, I cry. Wash away every trace of him. I don’t want memories. Remove the stain of his presence from my skin. I scrub and scrub in the hope that I can peel a fresh layer of skin, pure and untouched. As the water falls on my face I feel it mingle with my tears and there is no difference. I cry like a thunderstorm.

I scratch the surface in the hopes of  tearing away every vestige. But how do I remove your presence from below, where most of the damage is done? No amount of tears will erase your remnants from my heart. The times I’ve wept for you, for me, for you to stop and for me to stop loving you. I knew you were destructive but I kept coming back. I knew you weren’t good for me, although you knew me like no ever had. How could I turn away from that? How could I turn away from knowing that you were my one shot at happiness?

But I had to. I now stand here helpless and weak doing the only thing I can do now, which is to erase you, for my heart, from my life and from my soul, the place where I thought you would always have a home.

I finally see the blood seep through the lines on my skin and I know that I have reached the edge. Beyond this, I can only hope but my poor heart listens to no reason.

It’s time…

I have always been a Blogger fan girl. It is where I started my first blog and from there on I got to read hundreds of wonderful blogs. WordPress always seemed like the opposite of Blogger, something I would never do. It looked awfully plain and morose, in my eyes. Blogger was the fun, younger sibling.

The past few months I’ve experienced a writer’s block like no other. Ideas slipped out of mind, I could not form one sensible sentence and all my best ideas came to me while I was sleeping. Like, in my dream I’d think of something and be all “Homaigod, best idea ever”. I would tell myself to remember it and by the time I woke up, the idea would be, but a dream. I struggled with this for a quite a while and eventually just gave up.

Lately I’ve also been reading new blogs just to gather inspiration. I was feeling very insipid and needed a change very badly. I needed newer grounds to conquer, cleaner pastures. Basically, I just wanted to get to the other side, where, I heard the grass always seemed greener. Considering how I am on the cusp of new things and new opportunities are seeking me I thought it was time to document that in a newer place. That is how this WordPress site was born.

I chose the name ‘Maybe In Madras’ because Madras is my baby, my city of love. I hate to refer to it as Chennai, although that is the correct Tamil name. But Madras reminds me of beauty, of old world charms and of dreams that found it’s way in to the heart of the city. Madras inspired me to dream. She also reminded me to never stop. So here is to the city that molded me in to the person I am.

“Life happens in a certain place for a certain time. But there is a great surplus left over, and where will we stow it but in out dreams.”

– Solo, by Rana Dasgupta