Sangeetha Kamath

  As usual, at the dot of 8 pm, the Guzheng plays its stirring chords, the haunting notes beginning a slow sweep, rising to a powerful crescendo and alternating with a tranquil ebbing of melody surfing me along the waves of soul-stirring, yet a serene stretch of an hour every day.  I make it a point to sit right beside my dining room window to bask in this lulling sound therapy as my neighbor downstairs diligently plays on this zither, oblivious to my admiration. What a luxury it is to have a live orchestra while I savour the last meal of the day. It's a welcome distraction to the otherwise jarring squabbling of the playful neighbourhood children.  The Chạ̀wkhrāw of this– that the musical household might move one day is a foreboding thought. Foreshadowing this, deeply ingrained in me is the shattering news I had received upon returning to Singapore after an 8 month absence here.  The Ramadan festive season was fast approaching at the end of March but the apartm...

  In my quiet moments, I pause the world from its frantic pace. In that stillness, I wistfully gaze into the distance and just let things unfurl as they please. I let my thoughts flow, absorbing nothing. Internalizing nothing. And just like that, the strands of tightly woven twine untangle and the knots come loose. Today, as usual, I found myself caught up in the hustle and bustle of daily grind. I was rushing to get things done, stressing about deadlines, and feeling overwhelmed by the sheer amount of tasks on my to-do list. But then, I took a deliberate pause. With a deep breath, I stretched, stepped away from my desk, and walked out onto my balcony. Leaning on the railing, I looked down at the familiar lanes of my neighborhood, twirling around the corners behind the blocks of apartments.  The park and playground stood deserted at noon amid the cluster of flowering trees and surrounded by the hedges lining the curbs. I gazed at the sky, feeling the warm sun on my face and ...

The waves are soft and frothy. Laced with gossamer frills tenderly kissing the tips of my toes covered with the grainy sand of the rugged seashore where I'm sitting, wistful. A gust of briny breeze tousles my hair as I gaze as far as my eyes can see.  A flock of terns wheel overhead, their sharp, shrill cries punctuating the air as they dive and swoop over the surfs. A lone frigate bird, its crimson belly dazzling like a jewel skims majestically above, its long, slender wings outstretched as it rides the thermals high above the ocean. I absorb the sights and sounds of the late afternoon while absentmindedly scooping seashells beside me. As the afternoon phases, the furthest rim of the ocean is fringed in a gilded hem and the sleepy sun yawns, its dipping glow streaking the sky in a mellow tangerine and warm cherry. As I continue sitting there, the ships and yachts appear --specks of light from the portholes glimmering in the distance, reminding me of the phrase “That ship has saile...

Hey everyone! April is almost upon us and it reminds me of my childhood summer vacations, visiting my cousins in different cities, playing with them and watching movies late into the nights, brunches, more outdoor skips and hops and when the boiling sun drove us indoors, how the tangy, icy lemonade pitchers awaited us.  April is also about April showers, new beginnings and of late —the month of blogging! I'm excited to announce that I'll be participating in the A-Z April Blogger Challenge, starting on April 1st! This challenge is all about pushing myself to create new content, connect with fellow bloggers, and have immense fun while doing it. Throughout the month, I'll be posting daily(except on Sundays) on a variety of topics, ranging from personal reflections to mixed random bags of thoughts especially bordering on memoirs and non fiction. That's something I excel in apart from writing fantasy and the paranormal.  2025 will see my blog Sanguine Allegory bustling with ...

The taxidermied owl was perched on the mantle piece, it's shiny, wise gaze fixated on her. Kim had an unsettling feeling with this sinister showpiece everytime she visited Cunningham Manor. She sat opposite Keith, going over all the details again and asking more questions.  The investigation had drained both of them with no solution on end. It had been months. Audrey Cunningham had disappeared without a trace.. “I'm afraid we've done the best we could. We will be archiving this into the Cold Case Files in a couple of days”,sighed Kim. Out of nowhere, a sudden gust of wind knocked the owl off the mantelpiece. It dropped near Kim’s foot with a loud thud. A key neatly hidden key under it's talon was exposed. HELP and MUSIC BOX were etched weakly on it. **** “Mr. Cunningham! I need to see the Music Box right now”, Kim said with an authority as she radioed the team outside.  It held a secret compartment in which a handwritten letter by Audrey said that her life was in danger...

      GROWN, FLOWN AND HOME ALONE! The scent of sweet spring is here! Buds and blooms add dashes of color as the grayscale backdrop bids farewell. While the hush of icy twilights were a sweet lullaby and hazy halos of the winter moon sparkled away, our tender snuggles under the downy, weighted quilts were cozy and warm spaces. Dreams floated in and out—whispering their nostalgia and wistfulness. They hummed a timeless tune of a sacred and cherished bonding of a mother and her cub. The sunlight shone a pale peach behind my closed eyelids before they fluttered open to a bright eve of a spring dawn. The rush of warm breeze rustling the pendulous Silver Anne pothos, heady fragrances wafting from rosemary sprigs and the calming lavender stalks roused the lethargic bear in me from my hibernation.  A well deserved wintering later, life is once again a delectable stew bubbling away. Of a different flavor this time.  **** My den these days is a no sound zone. All day. Un...