utharam

ധര്‍മം

2011-11-07T04:46:00.000-08:00

തിരക്ക് പിടിച്ച നഗര വീഥികള്‍ക്കരികില്‍ ‍എന്തിനാണ് സ്തൂപികാഗ്ര മരങ്ങള്‍ നാട്ടുപിടിപ്പിക്കപ്പെടുന്നത് ?
ആകാശത്തേക്ക് ചൂണ്ടി ആ വിശാല നീലിമ നീ വല്ലപ്പോഴുമെങ്കിലും ഒന്ന് മനസ്സിലും നിറക്കൂ എന്ന് മനുഷ്യനോടു പറയാന്‍ വേണ്ടിയാകാം.

For my love

2011-07-30T05:40:00.000-07:00

You know, the steel vessels in our kitchen have not yet lost their sheen,

The bedspreads are still crisp, and smell new...

We are yet to renew the susbscriptions...

And we still have a lot of relatives' places left to visit as a couple...

I want to be with you, shamsu

When the steel plates in our kitchen cease to reflect our faces, and

The crisp bedsheets turn mopping clothes,

When subsciptions and deadlines stop bothering us,

And not a place is left for us to explore...

I want to be with you in the years in between too!

Happy anniversary and I love you!

(six more days to go but can't stop myself from posting this now;)

What do you do with memories?

2011-07-02T08:08:00.000-07:00

A lot of shifting and rearranging happened around us this past month. And we ended up with tonnes of...well, memories! In the small flat we have made our home, it has become virtually impossible not to stumble on some object or document of the precious past. When it came to deciding on what to do with the umpteen number of diaries, letters, and curios from a shared and non-shared past--amalgamated from the 'ancestral' homes of the two of us--we were puzzled, frustrated and exhausted in that order with bits of delight sprinkled across. It was a revelation for me that I have kept so much of stuff from my years of studies and jobs elsewhere. And to realize that I have carried a single earring from Delhi to Chennai to Thiruvananthapuram after losing its pair in its place of origin is amusing and irritating at the same time! A diary from Class 5 where I have religiously jotted down the day's events was given to me by Sr. Vinaya even before I myself thought I could write. And there were letters from Nandini, who will forever be 23 in my memories and beyond...even if I don't have an of these, or they were all lost along the way, I am no loser. Since I am a keeper of memories. I look back and polish them whenever I can, not only for a sense of my roots, but for making space for the happenings of the day. I keep my memories as a reference point. To seek and refresh what I am all about...

And I am glad I have company.

Memories in twilight

2010-05-24T00:46:00.001-07:00

It was getting dark when they left, after enrolling me into one of the best colleges in the South. I stood there waving away to them, braving the stinging tears that had already started pounding the depths of my chest. When they finally left and I looked within, I was surprised to find how badly bruised I was -- with a terribly old-fashioned homesickness. I was alone, and somehow I had already planned to be aloof, probably to escape some typical teenage insecurities bound to surface in friendships made and broken...

But I did make friends, rather, some great people made friends with me, and through nasty spells of illness, agony and bouts of anxiety, they saw me through. For the first time, I realised how it was to choose a family outside your home. (I was such a secure kid all through my school days, sharing a special bond with those at home, especially amma. Had it not been for hostel life, I never ever would have dared to open up to 'outsiders'.)

But that evening is still etched in memory, in colours of twilight. Something was broken inside.
Like shattered glass, the pieces reflected enlarged images of happenings-tangible and imaginary. But life only adds to it. Some are replaced by fresh wounds, some healed by people, places, smells, sometimes even by a falling autumn leaf.

It will always be there. I know. Everyone carries them. Each soul has them. Yet, however painful , however ugly, I know I am not going to trade them, for anything in the whole world.

Sometimes I can feel them poke through. Enough to miss a heart beat. Enough to make me hold breath and check whether they sweep me off the present. And no, they don't. they don't anymore.

Yes, ten years have past.

I love my life

2009-08-30T09:16:00.000-07:00

Finally, yes, finally!
Oh, can't tell how relieved I am!!!
Life is great :)

My Dream Movie

2009-08-20T18:38:00.000-07:00

I read A Temporary Matter again..The first story in Jumpa Lahiri's Interpreter of Maladies. I am so fascinated by the story that i would love to make it into a short film some time...or, has anyone made it already?

All through the narrative I will ensure an undercurrent of lost-hope and new-found happiness --bcoz that's what I get from the story. In fact, this a story of a lost baby and the ever-fresh beginnings possible to young adults, or any human being, for that matter.

I can almost see the candle glow on the faces of Shukumar and Shobha..Light and shadow painting their emotions, their intimacy, so subtly...Their home..The kitchen cabinet with pyramid shaped stacks of pickle bottles. The drawing room couch with Shobha's proof reading colour pencils. Shukumar's study walls still carrying remains of the baby wall paper he scraped off, Shobha's white sneakers that she removes and throws away near the refrigerator, the wall-calendar she studies laboriously. The vapour below the glass lid on shukumar's lamb curry pot.

How they both roamed about among the guests, fingers intertwined, when shobha threw a surprise party for Shukumar's birthday...Shobha sitting with Gillian in a dim-lit bar talking silly things about her mother-in-law in a very mature voice; lights going off and on in the neighbourhood during power cut, The doctor forcing a kindly smile as he tells the sad news to Shukumar, The ivy-on-fire with b'day candles...and , and the tears glistening on their relieved faces lit up by the candle, in the end. I will end the movie as the flame dies down in silence...

I guess the movie has already been made in my mind, and is open to editing forever!! Thanks Jumpa, for this fascinating story :)

തിരികെ നീ വരുമ്പോള്‍...

2009-07-22T11:38:00.000-07:00

തിരികെ നീ വരുമ്പോള്‍
ഇവിടെ ഞാനുമുണ്ട്...
ഉത്സവത്തിനു നിറമണിഞ്ഞ്,
ആള്‍ക്കൂട്ടത്തിനു ചിരിയെറിഞ്ഞ്,
ഇമ്പമില്ലാഞ്ഞിട്ടും താളം പിടിച്ച്‌,
തിരികെ നീ വരുമ്പോള്‍
ഇവിടെ
ഞാനും ഉണ്ട്.

ദൈവ വിചാരം

2009-06-04T04:56:00.000-07:00

എപ്പോഴും കറങ്ങുന്ന ഒരു ഗോളത്തിന് മീതെ നടന്നു ,
ഒരു സ്ഥിരതയും ഇല്ലാത്ത വായു വലിച്ചു കയറ്റി,
പ്രാണന്‍ നില നിര്‍ത്തുന്നവര്‍ നമ്മള്‍.

വെറുതെയല്ല,
നാഴികക്ക് നാല്പതു വട്ടം നമ്മള്‍ ദൈവത്തെ വിളിക്കുന്നത്...

Slowdown Snippets

2009-02-24T07:14:00.000-08:00

Ok, fine! So the world is 'slowing down'. And things won't look up anytime in the near future. demand is low, exports are hit, production faces a slump, factories get redundant, so workers are needed no longer and hence, pinkslipped...And all this has happened because some people in the other end of the globe went greedy and invested in unreal prospects so the bubbles popped promptly. And what do the world do? We reduce interest rates, increase credit flow-to pep up demand and put the growth plan back into action, among many other measures. But one sec, something is missing here, rt? Just the other day we said greed is bad and caused all this nonsensical melodrama, and quoted MK Gandhi big time (to the effect of, "the world has everything for our needs but not enough for one person's greed"). We blamed people for growing suicidal due to hyped up pressures of a consumer society and Kerala, especially, is being blamed for being a blindly consumerist state. But what we to do in order to get out of the crisis is induce once again this very greed, rt? To increase manufacturing, production, exports, there has to be demand, and to increase demand, there has to be some disposable income in people's hands, in order to provide this, they will be paid hell lot of money as salaries, commissions and perks once again as soon as the economy shows signs of slight recovery-bcoz only then does one think of upgrading one's mobile phone, or buying another car for the 15-yr old of the house and plan a vacation to Uganda. Rt? So in the end, we are caught up in the same old vicious circle? and there is no getting out? Or should we just sit back and relax as these are simply economic processes-for every boom there is a doom? Or even better, watch the 'maya' of time while it is turning the king into pauper and vice-versa?
On the brighter side, some economists say this is the best time to recognize the 'power of ideas'. That is, channel funds for green energy; fight global warming and climate change effectively using the newly-found slow pace now that economic growth is slowing down; spend more on social sectors such as basic sanitation, healthcare, drnking water and education; start up new enterprises with extremely good talent sourced cheaply from the laid-off lot, so on and so forth. But again, aren't these our immediate concerns? And remain so for at least a few decades more?Once boom-the-pied-piper comes back, should we stop all the good samaritan activities we are doing and join the mad rat-race again--make more money, more fame and even more money in whatever way possible and label ourselves a success? What about people getting left behind? What about those who don't possess the grit and sheer thick skin to make it to the top? What about those who prefer to be remain backstage, but are the pillars of outwardly success? So what is this ray of hope in distress mean to us? A temporary break to the back-breaking hardwork for looking good for the outer world, at the expense of feeling miserable inside.
To summarise, "Jai Ho, Let's be human for a short while"

My take on The White Tiger

2009-01-22T05:48:00.000-08:00

The White Tiger defies conventions; shatters myths of a new India shining. Almost abuses the most fertile landmass on the banks of the holiest of holy rivers of an ancient and extremely religious country: he calls the Ganga belt The Darkness. Before the dust settles, the book attacks the very essence of Indian existence—our family system—because the protagonist, Balram Halwai, ruthlessly describes it a Rooster Coop, where millions are trapped like chickens.
The book won this year’s Man Booker Prize for the right decision of a debutant author to portray a ‘wrong’ India. This India doesn’t have those mystics, nor the enlightened middle class, who are fast growing to reach the portals of the global elite. This shockingly fresh, yet depressingly redundant ‘reality’ of an India in English writing is opening up another layer of a sublime Indian literary experience to the outside world. This surprise element, surely, is one of the catalysts behind The White Tiger winning the prize, surpassing even grandeurs like The Sea of Poppies by a very seasoned award-winner Amitav Ghosh.
The title itself glares at the reader as out of the box and almost revolutionary in its attempt to dare the hierarchy and nick-name a lowly-placed, servant-class protagonist by the rarely-found, ever-elusive genetic wonder, called the white tiger.
And to think that he didn’t even have a name at the time of enrolling in his local school. The journey of Munna to Balram to The White Tiger marks the milestones of the novel, to put the story in a traditional nutshell.
This tiger chooses to play devil, challenge the system—only to climb on top of it and get sucked into its soft upper crust and enjoy the promised icing of a luxurious lifestyle and allied exigencies. This tiger writes a letter to none other than the Chinese premier Wen Jiabao and preaches to him the great Indian entrepreneur trick, during the course of seven nights.
“In my way sir, I consider myself one of your kind,” he says. He is so sharp-witted as to laughingly express his complete disdain for the All India Radio in the very second page of the “first night”. He goes on to say that the only three nations he admires in the whole world are China, Afghanistan and Abyssinia—for the singular reason that these countries never let themselves ruled by foreigners. And he has no false-pride when he reveals, “I was a servant once, too, you see.”
It is very interesting that the novel begins and runs along till the end in the form of a letter, that too, addressed to a living leader of an emerging tiger of an Asian country. We readers, in our day-to-day lives, are repeatedly bombarded with reports on China and India pitching to be the next world leaders—be it politically, economically, culturally and technologically. While India braces to be a China, it is also a known fact that China does not even look at us. She wants to do a US, at any cost—the recently concluded Olympic Games may be a pulsating example speaking for itself. But Balram the sweetmaker does not buy the myth of the West. For him, as long as Indians are out of the Darkness, we, together with the yellow-skinned, will rule the world.
The most enchanting chapter of the book, the First Night, is very refreshing with plenty of imageries thrown in. It owes a lot to the wall poster announcing that Balram, the murderer is missing. The power of its sentences—rather the powerlessness of it, for had anybody been heeding any interest in its content, Balram wouldn’t be writing this letter in the first place—is so potent that we begin to wonder how much information and enlightening a wrting-on-the-wall can contain.
In another characteristically non-benevolent action, Balram kisses all the 3,60,00,004 arses of all Indian gods, 3 among them Christian and one, Muslim. While conforming to the ritual of pleasing gods before starting any venture, he describes that in the most embarrassing fashion for the devout Indian living in our time and space, irrespective of classes.
The narrative grows quite poignant in many a turn. It shoots an arrow of guilt-pang directly to any normally higher-educated middle-class Indian who reads it—“no boy remembers his schooling like one who has taken out of school, let me assure you,” he tells Jiabao. But the hero is quick to come out of his past with a self-righteous, unapologetic, “entrepreneurs are made from half-baked clay.”
The philosopher in Balram comes out first when he as a boy goes to cremate his mother on the banks of Ganga. There the corpse’s toes refuse to be licked up by the pyre and he realizes why: “this was the real god of Banares, this black mud of the Ganga into which anything dies, and decomposed and was reborn from, and dies into again. The same would happen to me when I died and they brought me here. Nothing would get liberated here.” With that, the cunning entrepreneur in him leaves Ganga to the American tourists!
Balram’s world has just a few women in it. And in his opinion and experience, they just serve to perpetuate the permament misery the Indian lower-class willingly submit themselves to. His mother comes across as an intelligent woman, but she hardly stays to influence Balram in any pious way. Although it is she who instills the yearning for an education and knowledge in his tender mind that his father takes on as his duty after her death. “I have always been a big believer in education—especially my own,” he says later. Kusum, his grand mother, is a nagging presence in the entire story. She is the one to send him to work in tea shop for an extra buck, from where he eavesdrops on a conversation and decides to learn driving and subsequently moves to Delhi. His cousin-sisters are a burden, for whose dowry the family has to tie themselves to the vicious circle of debt and servitude.
Some of the observations that this half-baked Indian—who considers himself educated through overhearing conversations in the tea shop, his master’s car and the roadside—make are disturbingly accurate. For example, how he sums up caste system and class struggle for Jiabao: “In the old days there were one thousand castes and destinies in India. These days, there are just two castes: Men with Big Bellies, and Men with Small Bellies. And only two destinies: eat—or get eaten up.”
And he makes no attempt to hoodwink the Chinese leader about the true nature of Indian democracy. Because, in The Darkness, people often say: “I have heard the people in the other India get to vote for themselves.”
The novelist caricatures Indian slums in a different light. In his lines, they almost become one of the characters in the novel—the way he describes workers, who build up big malls and apartments in Gurgaon, sit in a line to defecate and does not even bother to look at a stranger joining them.
It is often said, “society makes a criminal.” Adiga seems to hint, in the Indian context, that it is a crime to be poor and getting out of it requires the sheer grit and mindless ambition to do whatever it takes to come out of an animal-like existence in The Rooster Coop with destinies burnt hard into the foreheads.
Balram doesn’t pause to think and shudder at what would have happened to his family back in Gaya following his master’s murder. They must have been destroyed, hunted, beaten, burned alive by the masters. But he being “a freak, a pervert of nature social entrepreneur” will never say he “made a mistake that night in Delhi when I slit my master’s throat. I will say it was all worthwhile to know, just for a day, just for an hour, just for a minute, what it means to be a servant.”
And as we shut the book, realizing for a brief moment our numbed complacence with life, we also feel a déjà vu, and continue feeling the same for the rest of our smug lives, in all prospects. May be this mild itching will grow into something of a larger scale, and quite literally, we may challenge the rotten system, however convenient it seems now for the average middle class. Whether that achieved or not, White Tiger has surely left a lasting roar in the hallowed portals of Indian English literature.

I don't will this illness to go away

2008-11-12T03:37:00.000-08:00

Here I am writing after a long time, and the blog is not opening! Is it a sign? Is it a sign like the foggy days in Delhi that seem to say "Go in, you have no right to be roaming about. The Earth is mine: winter rules." But since when did i start believing in signs? I know it's all my illness. All through August, I was praising winter, how gracefully it will trasform this sultry place into a dream city. But I was the first one to sneeze, cough, itch and grow weepy at the thought of amma!
Though I have been observing myself quite a bit. How I have slowed down while climbing the stairs, how I have put my generally high volume of speech down, how I eat so slowly-unlike a glutton who somehow knows her days are numbered (!). And it is quite amusing. I even laugh at myself. What was I hurrying for all this while? I could have always talked softer, walked in measured steps, ate 'lady-like.' Did it bring me any sense of achievement? May be it suited this maddening crowd that I am a part of. And once in a while it's worth it to fall sick (not seriously) and look up at the world rushing past you, like a helpless child! And bug the near and dear, and get pampered. Until the day when I find myself running up the stairs again- and feel well and thankful and happy and light that finally I can breath fully. And simply forget all these revelations and feel perplexed whether I was suffering from some kind of a Stockholm syndrome :)

മിഡില്‍ ക്ലാസ്സ്

2008-09-01T03:27:00.000-07:00

'മധ്യേയിങ്ങനെ കാണുന്ന നേരത്ത്'
നമുക്കു മത്സരിച്ചേ തീരൂ.
നമ്മില്‍ ഒരാള്‍ക്കെന്കിലും ക്ലാസ്സ് കയറ്റം കിട്ടുന്നത് വരെ!

കുമിള മനുഷ്യന്‍

2008-08-26T03:47:00.001-07:00

ഏഴ് നിറങ്ങളും പോരാഞ്ഞു

എട്ടാമത്തെതും തെരഞ്ഞു നടക്കുമ്പോളാണ്

കാല്‍ തട്ടി വീണു

കുമിള മനുഷ്യന്‍ പൊട്ടിപ്പോയത്!

2008-07-27T03:53:00.000-07:00

ശരിയാണ്,
പകല്‍ എന്തായാലും വരും.
എങ്കിലും
എന്തൊരു നീളമാണീ രാത്രിക്ക്!

ചിതറിയ ചില ചിന്തകള്‍ - രണ്ട്

2008-07-21T03:18:00.000-07:00

കടുത്ത പാടല നിറമുള്ള പുതപ്പു നനച്ചിടുമ്പോള്‍ അരികിലെ നൂലിഴകളില്‍ നിന്നു ചുട്ടു പഴുത്ത ടെറസിലെക്കു വാര്‍‌ന്നു വീഴുന്ന വെള്ളം നോക്കി കുറച്ച് നേരം നിന്നു. ഒരു പാടു വര്‍ഷങ്ങളായി, മനുഷ്യന്‍ സൂര്യന്റെ നിഴല്‍ നോക്കി നേരം അളക്കാന്‍ പഠിക്കുന്നതിനും മുന്‍പ്, ആ പുതപ്പു അങ്ങനെ അവിടെ തൂങ്ങിക്കിടന്നു നീര്‍ വാര്‍ക്കുന്നുന്ടെന്നു വെറുതെ സങ്കല്പിച്ചു നോക്കി.. സ്കൂളില്‍ നിരന്നു നില്ക്കുന്ന അസ്സംബ്ലി വരികളോട് വര്ത്തമാനം പറയാന്‍ വരുമായിരുന്ന പള്ളീലച്ചന്റെ അരയില്‍ മോടിയോടെ ചുറ്റിയിരുന്ന അങ്കിക്കും ഇതേ നിറമായിരുന്നുവല്ലോ

അന്നൊക്കെ അവിടുത്തെ ചെറിയ പള്ളിയില്‍, തണുപ്പും ഇരുട്ടും വീണു കിടക്കുന്ന ചാരുബെഞ്ചുകളില്‍ ഒന്നില്‍, ക്രൂശിത രൂപത്തെയും നോക്കി തനിച്ചിരിക്കുമ്പോള്‍ പള്ളീലച്ചന്മാര്‍ക്ക് ഈ സംഭാഷണ സ്ഥലതെന്തു കാര്യം എന്ന് തോന്നുമായിരുന്നു...വല്ലപ്പോഴും ധൂപക്കുറ്റി വീശി മറ്റൊരു ലോകത്തിന്റെ പരിമളം പരത്തിയിരുന്ന സഹായിക്കും, പിന്നെ വലിയ പള്ളി മണിയടിച്ചു മേഘങ്ങളെ തടുത്തു കൂട്ടുന്നവനെന്നു ഞാന്‍ കരുതിയിരുന്ന കപ്യാര്‍ക്കും മാത്രമെ അവിടെ പ്രസക്തിയുള്ളൂ എന്നും...!!

റോഡില്‍ അലറിപ്പാഞ്ഞു കൊണ്ടിരുന്ന ഏതോ വാഹനത്തിന്റെ പൊടുന്നനെയുള്ള നില്‍പ്പും മുരള്‍ച്ചയും കേട്ടാണ്‌ വര്‍ത്തമാനത്തിലേക്ക് തിരിച്ചു വന്നത്. അപ്പുറത്തെ ഗുരുദ്വാരയില്‍ നിന്നു ഗുരുസ്തുതികളുടെ നൈരന്തര്യം..

ഇതാ, എന്‍റെ പുതപ്പ്‌ ഉണങ്ങിയിരിക്കുന്നു..!

ചിതറിയ ചില ചിന്തകള്‍

2008-07-20T09:41:00.000-07:00

"കിഴക്കേ നട വിട്ടെങ്ങും പോകാതോരരയാല്‍ മരം ഇലക്കൈ വിരലാലെണ്ണി നാമം ചൊല്ലുന്നു രാപ്പകല്‍ .."ഒരു പാടു ഓടിതളര്‍ന്നു ശരിക്കും യന്ത്രമായി മാറിക്കഴിഞ്ഞോ ഞാന്‍ എന്ന് സംശയം തോന്നുമ്പോള്‍ അറിയാതെ ചൊല്ലി നോക്കാറുണ്ട് ഈ വരികള്‍.. പെട്ടെന്ന് മനസ്സു നിറയെ തണല്‍ വിരിച്ചു കൊണ്ടു വിറയ്ക്കുന്ന ഇലകളുമായി ഒരു വലിയ മരം സങ്കല്‍പിക്കാന്‍ പറ്റുന്നു എനിക്കെന്കില്‍ ആശ്വാസം തോന്നും. ഇലക്കൈ വിരലിന്റെ ആ ചിത്രം എത്ര ഭംഗിയാണ്‌ ....അകത്തേക്ക് നോക്കാം ധൈര്യമായി എന്ന് തോന്നും ..
മാധവിക്കുട്ടിയുടെ "രുഗ്മിനിക്കൊരുപാവക്കുട്ടി" അവസാനിക്കുമ്പോള്‍ പറയുന്നുണ്ട്: "ഇന്നു എന്റെ ഉള്ളില്‍ എന്തോ മരിച്ചു.." എന്തൊരു ശക്തിയാണ് ആ ചെറിയ വാക്യത്തിനു..എങ്ങനെയാണ് ഇവരൊക്കെ ഇത്ര ചെറിയ, ലളിതമായ വാക്കുകളില്‍ ഇത്രയും വലിയ കടല്‍ ഒതുക്കുന്നത്‌!

എസ് എസ് എല്‍ സി

2008-04-23T10:00:00.000-07:00

പരീക്ഷ കഴിഞ്ഞു ഇന്നലെ.
പേനയുടെ മുനയൊടിച്ചു ഞാനൊരു റോക്കറ്റ് ഉണ്ടാക്കി
കണ്ണീര്‍ വാര്‍ത്ത എല്ലാ പുസ്തകങ്ങളെയും അതില്‍ കയറ്റി യാത്രയാക്കി
പത്തു കൊല്ലം ചുമലില്‍ ഞാന്നു കിടന്ന സഞ്ചി പറിച്ചെടുത്ത്‌
അന്ന് വരെ ശേഖരിച്ച ബസ്സ് കണ്ടക്ടര്‍ തെറിയെല്ലാം പെറുക്കിയിട്ടു...
ഒടുവില്‍ വഴിയിലേക്കിറങ്ങി.
ആ നിമിഷം സൂര്യന്‍ അസ്തമിച്ചു.

2008-03-02T09:39:00.000-08:00

പണ്ട് പണ്ട്,

ജീവിതം തുടങ്ങുന്നതിനും ജോലികള്‍ പകുക്കുന്നതിനും മുന്പ്,

തിരമാലകള്‍ അസ്തിത്വ ദുഃഖം ഉണര്തുന്നതിനും

പക്ഷികള്‍ വിമാനങ്ങളെ ഓര്‍മിപ്പിച്ചു തുടങ്ങുന്നതിനും മുന്പ്,

ചെമ്പിലയുടെ കറുത്ത പച്ചപ്പിലേക്ക്

ഒരു വെള്ളത്തുള്ളി വന്നു വീണു;

അതിനുള്ളില്‍ ഒരു മന്ചാടിക്കുരുവും-

അപ്പോളാണ് ഭൂമിയില്‍

ആദ്യത്തെ കവിത പിറന്നത്‌.

My Green Demands!

2008-01-11T02:46:00.000-08:00

I want to see some greenery...
Not the lush, dark, rainy green of imposing evergreen forests;
But the humble, pleasing light green of wild grass full fledged...
And I dont want it wet with dew; and specks of tiny flowers, too.

That way, it will not intimidate my walking, rolling, flolicking on it...
The green should be so green that it should contrast well with the rocks nearby.
And above us, the sky should spread all over-letting in Sun.
It should not be deep blue- it should be as clear as the eyes of the baby i saw yesterday on bus.

Reassuring Raspberries

2008-01-03T08:18:00.000-08:00

Do u remember that story, where the king's son had a stomach ache after eating so much of raspberry tarts? We studied it in school (and thus lost all its fun and imagination!). I guess in the end a wise minister convinces him that even after u remove the moon from sky, next night it will be replaced...(Again I dont recall what was the moon for, to make the boy drink his bitter medicine?SCHOOL, I must say!)

Anyway, in so many stories, from where I didnt have to answer questions in two sentences or in a paragraph, I have come across children going to pick raspberry in the wild-and it simply thrilled me..!! I have developed a fancy for all berries-mulberry,strawberry, blueberry, blackberry, gooseberry........my mouth-watering berries!

So, on the day of New Year, we were walking down CP (Delhi's famous acronym for Connaught Place) and found ourselves beside a foreign-fruit vendor. among strawberries, taiwan imported sweet tamarinds and green apples, he had this bunch of orangish yellow fruits, the size of grapes. Me and my sis, given the gluttons that we are, asked what it was and got enlightened about raspberries-till then a mere word of childhood reading. We bought it and started to eat immediately.

It tasted very nice-and familiar. In fact, it brought memories...of childhood, of our carefree vacations, of my long long reading time on bed on those asthmatic days...It reminded us about our time at ammachi's place, with all our cousins, how we used to turn an ordinary hybiscus tree into the most marvellous fir during christmas, and many, many more...

Later, in the room, we examined the bunch and found it resembled NJOTTA NJODIYAN!!(Now, its a wild fruit that amma taught us about-one of the many edible 'kaattupazhangal' we never knew existed). And finally we concluded this so called raspberry is nothing short(or tall) of njotta njodiyan!!only they are a lot bigger. even its outer cover was the same...We were so excited about this discovery that we popped the berries one after the other into our mouths all too fast, and it got over in a giffy!

And that was how my New Year began- with the reassuring note that i can still revel in the small things in life...and feel complete.

Flames...

2007-12-24T02:35:00.000-08:00

Flames...flames all over...choking; suffocating; emaciating flames...
Smells...all kinds of them...burning, nauseating, debilitating smells...
Thoughts...painful, tiresome, never ending thus...

MY FIRST EARTHQUAKE IN DELHI

2007-11-27T08:19:00.000-08:00

I got up from my sleep, from under my so poshly warm rajai, with a jerk. First I thought I was shivering due to some terrible dream i saw, which i couldnt recall, anyway(humans are so stupid!)Then I realized it was not me alone, but the entire cot!

Things were clanking in my room, and i felt the cot shivering underneath. it was at 4.45 in the morning. the best part is, my room mate didnt wake up! i woke up and lied down for some more time.

I tried to gather my thoughts; I was observing myself, judging, so to say: not my crisis-management skills; but what kind of thoughts i had then..I thought about Lathur, I thought about family-the one I already have; and the one I long to make!! I thought about love, thought about the warmth of my rajai-"would it leave me as warm even after its all over?!"I thought about people who did not have a home, who had to live on the pavements and crowded slums, people who could not even make room to escape from debris since they live in the middle of it...I thought about all the inmates of my hostel-their dreams, plans, careers, tears..

And then i heard one by one girls starting to come out of their rooms. i too went out.hearing all this, my room mate got up at last!!I listened to their 'quaky' experiences(from all over india-truly cosmopolitan!) for some time, and went bak to sleep!! In the next morning attendance was so very less in the mess for breakfast-since all girls were sleeping into late morning to make up for their disturbed sleep!!

so... thats all abt earth quake...my first earth quake in delhi!! (nice title for a novel- now i just need to write the rest of it ;)

Five things I hate the most

2007-10-02T23:00:00.000-07:00

1. Filling out forms
2. Mistaken for things I never intended to say or do
3. Being taken for granted
4. Women Being Apolegetic about being women
5. A nervous break down!

FIVE THINGS I LOVE THE MOST

2007-04-26T05:59:00.000-07:00

1. To be understood fully without uttering a word
2. Feel amma's touch, achan's grip, muth's reassuring naughtiness
3. A Pleasant evening
4. Atmosphere just before it rains
5. Green, dark, imposing trees

five years have past..............

2007-03-23T05:13:00.000-07:00

i guess there is no need at all to act what u r not. or attach paraphernalia so that u seem gr8. isnt it ok to be u? just u? but some ppl are so strange. they would want u to associate urself with so many other things- they simply refuse to accept u as u. if u dont go by the tags of profession, family and status, u are in for trouble indeed! i seriously dont see the point. we r here for being ourselves- not to play out roles for others simply bcoz the world demands it. NO WAY!

between, i am so happy to have come bak and i actually went thru two gr8 blogs. alas! one of them has called it quits with the blog that had been in existence for five long years-on the brighter side, now i am reminded of these lines from wordsworth which i tried to learn byheart for a competition but failed- five years have past, five summers, with the length(? )of five long winters...feeling soo gud to recite it now- for no reason!

balanced...finally!

2007-03-21T04:58:00.000-07:00

At last...
I learned-to balance on two "inflated egoes"!Yes, now i can ride a bicycle.At least I can cover a distance on two slender wheels, pedalling away without help!

So world- both virtual and real- listen: I have learned a new act, a new technique, rather a unique art-because being able to ride a bicycle has been my dream for the past so many years...

So here I am..cycling into my latter twenties!!

lessons

2007-01-11T03:55:00.000-08:00

Blooming full fledged

Right or Wrong

2007-01-10T05:20:00.001-08:00

Right now, that is the only question in front of me. Right, or wrong?!

So revolting, and yet so challenging

Utterly miserable, yet refreshing

Unimaginably troubling, yet so very reassuring

Disappointed to the core, yet relieved like....

LiKe HeLL!!

mystique

2006-11-23T22:31:00.000-08:00

This is a brilliant saying I adore a lot(I dont know whether my translation is precise. Hope it conveys)
"I am the Traveller, I am the way, And I myself am the Travel too."

Shame

2006-11-23T21:44:00.000-08:00

Hail Kerala! And its enlightened citizens!!
In Thrissur, a group of members of the neighbourhood made a big scene against cremating the dead body of a person died of AIDS, says todays's newspaper. It was after a number of rejections from other cremation centres- including the one owned by the Corporation- that the body was finally brought to Laloor. It seems the so called fellow "nattukar" were furious about the prospects and allowed to cremate the body after heated arguments with the panchayat representatives under the condition such incidents should not be 'repeated'.
Worst of all, the person who came with the body had to observe "satyagraha" in front of the collectorate with the body on his lap before the problem was taken into notice, the paper says. Climax of the story: The police arrested this person for "NOT HONOURING" the dead body and released thereafter!!

I feel so proud of my people who stand first in education and health awareness in the whole of my country, and who practice the ART OF LIVING in so beautiful a way..KEEP IT UP!

redundant

2006-11-08T07:39:00.000-08:00

its monsoon in chennai now. i cant help wondering how when and why does the sky pour itself out all of a sudden. very redudndant a thought, i know..but some things in life are so permanent, right? like..i dont know its a different set in the case of each human being!I dont know what i am writing..just felt like "utharaming"..may be thats why!!

two is good!

2006-11-08T07:37:00.000-08:00

not bad. two people responded to my previous post..
so lemme add:
kabhi kabhi mere dil main..
kabhi alvida na kehna...
lag jaa gale ki phir yeh hasin raat ho na ho...
chupke se sun..is pal ki dhun..
jeena yahan, marna yahan...
yeh shaam masthani..
madhuban main radhika naachein re..
mere naina savan...phir bhi mera man pyasa..
suhani raat..na jaane tum kab aaogi..
din dhal jaaye hai!
tu nahin to...
musafir hoon yaaron...
o duniya ke rakhwale...
isharon isharon mein...
chaudvin ka chand ho...
aapke nazron ne samccha...

2006-11-02T11:09:00.000-08:00

tere hi sapne lekar hi soya,tere hi yaadon me jaaga...
dil ddhoondtha hai...
tumne mujh ko hasna sikhaya...
kabhi na kabhi,kahi na kahi...
tu nahin to zindagi main...
tum itna jo muskura rahi ho..kya gum hain jisko chupa rahe ho...
tere mere sapne ab ek rang hain...
mere samne wale khidki main...
meri mehboob tujhe...
tere nainon ke siva...
abhi khar na jaana...
aji roothkar ab...
maine poocha chand se...
hoton se choolon tum...
baatein bhool jaati hain, yaadein yaad aati hain.

the first utharam!

2006-10-26T08:43:00.000-07:00

In the heart of a seed,
Buried deep, so deep,
A dear little plant lay fast asleep.
"Awake," said the sunshine,
"And creep to the light."

"Awake," said the voice
Of the raindrop bright.
The little plant heard
And rose to see
What this beautiful outside world might be.

~Unknown

2006-10-26T08:40:00.000-07:00

A Return

2006-10-18T08:52:00.000-07:00

Memories
Like old train wagons
All used up
But
Never stale...

Faces
Like the Sun
Showering ecstacy
Still
Unburnt.

Certain victories
Like Karan Johar Movies
Longed for anxiously
Yet utter flop in actuality!!

can anybody find me the rest of it please..?

2006-10-09T06:39:00.000-07:00

"in the heart of a seed
buried deep so deep
a dear little plant
lay fast asleep.
wake, said the sunshine
and creep to the light
wake, said the morning dew...."
what is the next line?

"Mobile" Phone

2006-09-14T08:41:00.000-07:00

The Train howled by
Like a huge cellular phone
Making its passengers
Shiver
Like cell phones put in vibrator mode.

thousand cranes:An irony

2006-08-25T05:41:00.000-07:00

THE title of the book caught my attention first; then the author. 'thousand cranes'brought back some memories-when as a child i read about 12-year old sadako sasaki, a nuclear-bomb victim in japan, and the thousand white paper cranes that she folded, believing they would fulfill her athletic dreams..and the anti-war memorial in her name that the children of japan dedicated to the world with the words,""This is our cry, This is our prayer, Peace in the world".And Yasunari Kawabata, whose work, "beauty and sadness" that had stirred a lot of emotions,unnamed and underdefined when i happened to read it three years back-not so vivid a memory, but..
UNDERDEFINED..yes that should be the word to describe thousand cranes in a word.set against the backdrop of tea ceremonies that is unique to japan, it tells about the intricacies of human mind so similar all through the world!"perhaps clear memories came easily in proportion as they were ugly," says kawabata-how true!
i could almost touch the subtle colours with which he has painted man-woman relationship-even when the overtones of such relationships are so depessingly hard to accept, i could not but appreciate the truthfulness of human feelings portrayed.{thousand cranes are the sign of optimism and perseverence and peace, such an ironical title for a "negative" work..}
i could make out the suppleness of traditions against cruel,unmindful urbaneness that japan is going through today:"he gazed at the morning glory for a time. in a gourd that had been handed down for three centuries, a flower that would fade in a morning.."
"he had not asked where she lived.it had been as if her dwelling were himself," kawabata concludes..is nt it true?after all who are we, but the images we create in other people's minds?where do we live, if its not in the love, misery, hatred and memories of those around us?!

notebook

2006-08-18T09:12:00.000-07:00

nandini had gifted me a spiral notebook for my bday in the 3rd year of wcc to write my poems in..and she wanted me to show it to her when it was full..i, as usual, dismissed it as something impossile and i actually told her what big deal, she cant read malayalam anyway...in fact she even asked a couple of times what is happening to it..and i simply laughed it out...it has the words, DREAM, do it, create, think etc.-on its cover.

AND i did mange to lose the notebook the very same day it was gifted-in the audi..i never got it bak,despite all our efforts..she never said a word of blame, but got me a new one the very next day.
may be she always wanted me to resume writing and be my real self again..but was i taking it for granted without ever realizing it to the fullest sense?

never ever give up

2006-08-11T03:16:00.000-07:00

"REST IF U MUST; BUT DONT YOU QUIT."

cycling into twenties

2006-08-04T03:58:00.000-07:00

does the headline suggest any kind of a flashback, or looking back?but the twenties i am talking about is the age-thingie..##
i used to feel ashamed to say i dont know how to ride a bicycle..but what is the point. its just so. its one of the few things in our lives we cant lie or make up stories and pretend about!!
riding a bicycle is one of the most wonderful things mankind has managed to do, i feel. like going to the moon.

rolling lean, on a couple of air-filled egoes
elegantly flexible, wild like a bee-sting
balancing good, pulling away bad,
a bicycle goes, riding my youth!

are sonagachis the solution?

2006-07-27T22:50:00.000-07:00

its regarding the debate going on in mathrubhumi weekly: about sexuality, virginity, illicit relations so on and so forth.i read so many letters in the latest issue. not even one was written by a woman!
nyways, the following are a few facts some of them have pointed out:
1: women are not the only ones who are being ill-treated. men also undergo similar plight.its only that they dare not reveal such stuff since it would hurt their feelings!
2:sexuality is a biological urge, just like hunger or thirst.
3:cases of atrocities against women shall reduce if we set up govt.sponsored sonagachis all around kerala.

let me begin from the last: if sonagachis were a safety nozzle, not even a single case of rape or harrassment should occur, leave alone get reported from mumbai, kolkatha etc!and just who are these sex-workers? are they a race or a caste on its own?! and if at all it is legalized and given social acceptance, dear mr.reader, will u be prepared to send ur wife,sister or daughter for the profession? NEVER. so the bottomline is simple."let me have the pleasure at somebody else's cost. i dont care a damn if it means physical violence,emotional vulnerability, financial backwardness or mental torture for the person i involve with!"bravo!

secondly, if sexual urge is like any other need, just why are intercourses between certain relationships taboo? if humanbeings are the only "cultured" race we have got to show it off, NA?! are some of u guys trying to assert that u ppl are no different from animals? oh,please, they dont, afterall, go ahead and rape their females!

women, in most cases, are ill-treated and harrassed because of their gender.being woman is like a crime in our space and time. yes, men have at least a pride to be hurt while women are not allowed to feel DIGNIFIED at least!just see what is happeing to the culprits in our most celebrated sex racket cases.

if our so- called free men are so backward in their thoughts and feelings for their fellowomen, i can only wonder what centuries of conditioning should be doing to our women. i feel thats exactly why our undemocratic family system is still intact, dowry prevalent, "virginity" rampant and our well educated girls dont think twice before adorning themselves with tonnes of gold jewellery on the most important day of their lives..

i simply dont know when our people will understand what it means to be a man or a woman and be able to love,respect and hear out each other.

why her?

2006-07-26T06:20:00.000-07:00

why are we too busy to remember, call, email, visit each other?
tears are welling up inside, but not even one drop is coming off me. i am tired.

an odd day in chennai

2006-07-24T22:24:00.000-07:00

Roads glistening with rain.
Men in raincoats on bikes.
Silent commuters raining thoughts.
Party flags, with theit red and black
darkened,
And their leaders' faces sharpened.
Entangled letters more dravidian.
Teashops vending coffee the colour of mud.
Youth frantic over their wet cellular phones.
Flowery sarees drenched,lifted and stuck on calves.
Autowalahs reaping an unexpected rain harvest!

nandini

2006-07-23T23:27:00.000-07:00

i cant believe you would no longer scream into the telephone when i call , nandu...
i dont know what will happen to your contact lenses and those thick spectacles u wore while travelling.
i am no longer to get a happy bday call in the midnight of 22 jan..and i am not gonna call u 23 rd midnite.nor are we to compare and contrast our aquarian traits.
we are not going to lie down on the drawing room couch watching tv till late night and discussing guys.
we are not gonna put lots of tomato sauce with whatever we eat,while others cringe at the sight.
we are no longer gonna sing 'arth' songs, relive the day we watched devdas first day last show, reread memoirs of a geisha.
u r no longer gonna take me to the doctor for that cracking head ache.and u r not gonna make me laugh when i get my passport size snap taken. nor am i gonna get ur letters in that big, bubbly handwriting, so wild and beautiful.
we will no longer pick the same posters at exhibitions.
and, i dont even know whether u had found ur RAJ whom we were so eagerly waiting for.

your resh.

i, me,myself

2006-07-20T01:44:00.000-07:00

is that the only way to exist in our time and space??! i was thinking what has education given me, or brought me into..and i find it shapes your personality, ur individuality..alright. but it doesnt encourage u to be u.it shapes one into an already moulded cast and shuts all possible outlets of originality or creativity! yes, it does TEACH u that u r all alone in this whole wild world, and left to fend for urself..if u win the battle alone, aloof and ALIVE, all the more better-u will be celebrated as the best possible example for the coming generations!

wow!

2006-07-20T01:30:00.000-07:00

what a reliefe! at last..here i am.
so.. that means i too got affected by the mumbai blasts. ( the word might offend central telecom dept.,no probs; cant be bothered about silly things..) and like my fellow mumbaikars, refused to surrender.kept writing new posts, although i cudnt see them published!!good job raaasmi!!kollam!

i cant see my diary!

2006-07-19T09:07:00.000-07:00

sos..i am simply not able to access my new born blog!! i can create and edit posts, alright, but i cant see them published on the page.. i am in deep confusion..is this the beginnining of the end?

ksfdc LTD

2006-07-18T22:11:00.000-07:00

just a piece of bizzare "logic"..

the Kerala State Film Development Corporation LIMITED is India's first
film development corporation successfully fostering creative partnerships for more than two decades.(quote from their website)
i believe films are the utmost source and end of creativity, with no confines whatsoever! then why should an establishment or institute or corporation for its meaningful growth be LIMITED??!!!!! (i know its a bit too much ; ))

why should women not enter sabarimala?!

2006-07-18T05:28:00.000-07:00

i am not a religious person. i was not brought up under the wings of any particular faith or belief. and i admit, i fail to understand the dimensions, the possibilities, the abyss, so to say, of BHAKTHI. as far as the recent controversy on sabarimala is concerned, and for the question should women be allowed to enter sabarimala, my natural answer, as a woman, is obviously a yes. but delving more into it, if all this is a matter of belief, i reconsider my answer under two aspects: 1:why should women care to worship a god who doesnt like even their presence??!! 2:and just WHO are to decide and ALLOW anybody to do anything?? since i believe BHAKTHI is an extremely personal feeling, it should not be guided or manipulated by anybody, right? if a woman, or a group of women, feel they cant survive without visiting sabarimala, i believe they should simply do it, come what may. that props up the first aspect: why care for somebody who doesnt like them?! may be in spite of this, if the women devotees feel for him so much, they should just go ahead. as far as i know, BHAKTHI is like LOVE. it can face any setbacks, anything that comes its way...meerabai's life is an excellent example.

entry into sabarimala, or any similar concern, should not be "executed" by law, by government, or by any authority. if its the truth of the mind, the heart, the soul, then no higher-ups are to be bothered about. if one is clear about it, he/she has no other go but do it.

if i understand the nuances of BHAKTHI, i feel its like the story of melpathur narayana bhattathiri, the author of NARAYANEEYAM. its a comprehensive study on bhagavatha, the life story of mahavishnu. he is said to have written the whole work at the guruvayur sri krishna temple, in order to find a permanent cure for his arthritis. he is said to have been cured once he finished writing it. i feel thats what is called BHAKTHI, an extreme state of belief and self-devotion that is true to the core. like LOVE! and that it is not something to be induced or forced upon or, most importantly, ALLOWED TO BE PRACTISED by outsiders- be it our fellowmen, the govt, or even SAKSHAL SREE AYYAPPAN!

utharam

2006-07-14T02:27:00.000-07:00

euphoria!

a strand of hair

2006-07-13T22:10:00.000-07:00

i wanted to write this yesterday itself..
whenever i fall into the bliss of oblivion, a hair strand slips slowly onto the face to wake me up. i feel irritated at times, but at other times, when oblivion is no longer a bliss, but escapism and depression, my hair strand tickles me into reality..and i love its feel, its pitch blackness, its coarseness, its snakeness!!

answers

2006-07-11T22:28:00.000-07:00

"we desire to understand the world by giving names to the things we see but these things are only the effects of something subtle
when we see beyond the desire to use names
we can sense the nameless cause of these effects"--lao tsu
bomb blasts in bombay. watching a really bad movie at the same time in chennai..i am not trying to deraw a parallel between the two. but i can say only about what I experienced,at a given point of time, right? i dont know if i am sounding bizzare, but i cant help thinking why are things the way they are..if, as the tao goes, we overcome the desire to name the effect, will the cause become clear to us? or why do we demand for vivid reasons at all?!that age-old question pops up again..why i was born??!!
i read about sex trafficking,about russian gals selling their flesh for studies, 9 year olds in delhi showing off their budding breasts and inviting "clients" for some money to eat...and here we talk about the desires of flesh, the unreal concepts of virginity...the politics of a kiss!!i am not happy with our world that counts only straight smiles, fair skin, big money and correct fitting jeans as VIRTUE. why cant we, including myself, stand a moment of anger, of folly, of ignorance, of clumsiness, from others??why do we see only the fast, the smart and the successful? why DO NOT WE STOP AND THINK A BOMB COULD BLAST ANYTIME WITHIN OR WITHOUT??!!!(afterall, most of us eat fast food that is carcinogenic)

a hug

2006-07-11T03:20:00.000-07:00

i feel like hugging u
inhaling the smell that only u have
touching ur skin that sends a thousand vibrations into mine
crushing this moment, this space, this time, this universe
INTO ONE BEAR HUG

brokebackmountain

2006-07-11T02:53:00.000-07:00

watched the movie with three guys..although slept a bit, it was lots of fun, watching along with friends making funny comments.and i had the pine branch that i picked from ooty, and smelling it as i watched the mountanoeus movie gave it a threedimensional effect!!

snapping back shahabas

2006-07-10T04:21:00.000-07:00

Kathiravan is leaving. he used to be our security-in-charge. we people, sitting inside our small rectangular worlds, never ever give him a second thought.a smile, a hi, a bye, a did-u-eat query..thats it.
coming to think about it, i believe he certainly has had a role to perform in our official lives. yes, he was our SECURITY!!but for me, he is more than that. officially and personally, i cherish him...AS MY FIRST BYLINE.
kathiravan's is a tale of three names(and thats how my headline goes..)his original name is shahabas, yes,a muslim.he had dreams of the tinsel world when he came to this adobe of stars..he wanted to become a scriptwriter, and not without a reason or talent. he has already published at least 5 short stories in different tamil magazines. and he writes well in malayalam too. hailing from palakkad, his parents now live in coimbatore where he grew up listening to stories of rajnikant and the like..those who bagan small, and grew bigger than the kollywood.twice he came to chennai, only to be caught, robbed and cheated by a homo-sexual man and later an "agent"of kodambakkam, that part of the city where there used to be all the big studios of south india. he at last had to take up job as a security personnel, and all along he has had his 500- page script neatly bound and kept along with his baggage.
shahabas writes under the pen name kovai-bas and he had to work under a hindu name bcoz somebody procured him the documents of a man called kathiravan for him to get this job...this is the tale of three names and he is leaving. after having privileged me, only an intern then, by allowing me to write about his TRUE story, having made me read the manuscript of his first novel in malayalam when i joined here, having implored me to check out his favorite movies, having remarked that my movie review is not that good. he is hardly 20 years of age and has taught me what life is in his own special way. he is leaving bcoz he realized nothing is gonna work out by staying here for so long..now he knows..that his innocent confidence will not do the trick.and i hate the world and those people in this world, for giving him sad revelations, inequitable realities, and wisdom to understand it all ,without the backup of money&power.
YES, HE IS SNAPPING BAK TO BEING SHAHABAS AGAIN. AND I CAN ONLY HOPE IT DOESNT HURT..
if the end matters, let it be with a positive note. i seriously wish to see the name KOVAI-BAS written prominently on the future movie posters....of super duper mega bumper hits...

utharam

2006-07-06T12:16:00.000-07:00

ok. since noone has written any comment on my poem, i myself will appreciate it!" too good"! what else?

hail argentine!

2006-06-30T12:14:00.000-07:00

they say u got to stand with the bereaved, the defeated..so here i am for u..dear argentine.
if u were a girl of my age, i would have cried silly on your shoulders..
if u were a guy, i would have taken your hand and held it firmy inside mine..
but u r a nation, a shapeless shape i see so often on the map..
and in your lakes,in your rivers ,i am shedding my stupid skin of bravery. hail argentine!!

2006-06-26T22:04:00.000-07:00

if live and let live is to be the motto, how do we find when and how to LET go??!

2006-06-23T07:08:00.000-07:00

hi,
finally i am letting myself into the blog-world.
to cut a long story short, this is a desperate attempt to find out what i WANT with life...