Sangeetha Kamath

August , just as its name, is so regal. This year it hits quite differently as it stumbles along heavy-footed and highly lethargic. August this year is an excruciating dead weight sandbag. Peppering the phases of sleepless nights and restless days are moments of regrets---unspoken words, words that could have been paused, things that could have played out differently, moments that could have been lived more deeply...  What once was a month which gifted colour back to the dawns and dusk as the shy, mellow sunshine breathed a golden glow in the air after the dense and gloomy monsoons bid a goodbye, August this year is a frosty overcast of a grey, damp July chill. My dad's birthday falls in this month and if he had just made it four months longer, he would've been 80 years old on the 22nd. He had held with the last ounce of his laboured breaths to see this milestone which was not to be. A final wish in his every delirium moment that would shatter my heart every time he expressed i...

  Prompt: "What happened?", asked my mother. “What happened?” asked my mother. I had hurled the door open and dashed inside, breathless and disheveled. The rain outside was an endless torrent since late evening. Blurring the neighborhood and the garden. We could see nothing clearly beyond the porch. My jacket was drenched and more droplets of water trickled on the carpet as I swept the hoodie over my head with shaky hands. She tried to hold my gaze but my eyes darted about in panic. The force of what had just occurred was yet to fully register. As I shrugged off the jacket it slid to the floor in a heap. In a daze, I walked over to the doorway leading to my room and froze. The walls started to close in. My vision swam.The sound of the rain and thunder seemed to amplify while the soft glow from the chandelier dimmed further. The buzz in my ears was unbearable. Weakly, as I covered them with my palms, a wave of nausea overpowered me and I slumped onto the floor. The world turne...

  Books and more books 📚! All I talk about are books and Babylou. And for good reason. One is my creative board and the piece of my heart is a wise Sounding Board. When I interact with either of them I get great eye openers and enlightenment. There's of course a story behind this with these two main star casts and in no way are disconnected at all with random mentions.  Yeah, so with all my Ring Binder Journals and the various diaries having been filled to the brim with my daily writing plus visual embellishments, they now look no less than chunky blocks--overfed and hard to shut close. Having almost run their course, it was time to get new ones to document the rest of the year.  Amazon showed me the Paperideas A5 Journals with a shipping price to Singapore that would buy me month's worth of groceries for the household! Heck, ah ?! What the...! Is it trimmed with gold and encrusted with precious gems ! Plus the aesthetic pastel colours were all SOLD OUT with only some ga...

It's one of those days that I don't look forward to at all but try my best to focus only on the silver lining and send thanks to the universe that I have access to the best healthcare the world has to offer. It's also a a gift I give to myself ever since I've placed my health and its sustenance as top priority. So today was a day full of follow ups and tests…and an overwhelming anxiety to top it all when it was all done as the reports will be out only next week when I meet up with the specialists for the review.  A stretch of 2 hrs with an assortment of procedures which to me seemed like an endless one, finally wound up with me walking out with a million-gadzillion thoughts blitzing in my head. Even though the technicians saw me off with a load of assurances, drilling me to keep calm, to be positive and to have a good rest after going home, I was anything but calm. Nap was the last thing on my mind although my eyes were already weary and were shutting on their own. Afte...

Today I sing Wind Of Change by the band Scorpions and dedicate it to my daddy dearest whom I affectionately address as 'annu'. Daddy was a great aficionado of good music in any genre from any part of the world. He especially liked rock bands and melodies with guitar renditions accompanying the lyrics. A great fan of Country, Blues, Pop and Rock music he was. Truly !  His collections too were from the golden era when musicians and songwriters had a Midas touch. Spanning from vinyl records to audio cassettes, annu cherished those with delicate care. Never did a morning pass in my childhood when sweet notes didn't fill the air of our home. This was a steady ritual right after breakfast and during the time we got ready for school and my parents for work.  And the evergreen idealistic dreamer that I was (and still am) would carry these songs as an earworm and play it all along the ride to school in my head. And replay it, staring blankly at the board whenever lessons got too bor...

  I walk on that rickety bridge again, tiptoeing ever so mildly to rewind time, to rewrite great many chunks of heartbeats and on a quest for answers. The surging waters below are on their merry journey, a mist of spray and foam in the air in their enthusiastic trail. I've only managed to turn back the pages on my journal in my limited human capacity. What once began as a rosy project to capture the idyllic and vintage when I first started out on the April layout , turned out to be a ghastly summer of 2025. Barely had I got a foothold from the dizzying heights of the ill-fated 2024, only to step on a landmine ??! A Bed Of Roses …. what had I prophesized?  It's now a shrine staring at me ever so solemnly. In this garden of eulogy , I’ve made the pages come alive with a swarm of butterflies in as many shapes, sizes and colours I could. Not at all randomly placed but on each date which marks a significant ritual… And then there are some days in April which are remembered most ...

On a clear Autumn evening, the sky is a splash of feeble purple, a hybrid of Lavender laced with Heather. It's a garden of blooms in the sky with streaks of Fuchsia and Mulberry , a medley of regalia. That's how my favorite person is.  A pale Violet , the vintage elegance of a timeless sundress as she twirls away to heart's content without a care in the world. Plum is the zing of the freshness a wine ushers in on a barbeque evening. The seasonal blueberry ice cream bars with drizzles of Lilac are the cool respite I look forward to and find in her company. Byzantine is a powerful stance as she holds her audience captive. An incandescent Mauve is soothing with her tone and forthcoming promises. A lustrous Amethyst wise beyond her years, dazzles us. Periwinkle is a whisper of her charming heart's desire. Iris although dainty, exudes confidence rooted and balanced.  Cornflower and Orchid blend in an encrusted tiara woven to mark a gorgeous splendor . Wisteria is ...