weeping whispers...sobbing smiles...

Nomore of Soumyas,krishna priyas ,shahanas,Arunas ,Aarushis….

2011-03-08T22:14:00.004+05:30

International women’s day.

As usual our staff-room discussions drifted from one topic to another, everything under and over the sky-when one of the senior teachers’ burst out into tears shouting..

“….to hell with the haphazard of politicians and social activists. What the hell are these fellows doing here to stop women abuse? How come the law here is never a law? When it comes to the various crimes there are many to make loud drawing room protestations. Unless dreadful words and comments What action did they take after Soumya’s brutal murder? And for Govinda chami,or Mayin kutty..…aaaah…lifelong imprisonment..eh…?that means -bed coffee, breakfast, gardening cooking, lunch, dinner., library and education if needed, they are even paid for the work they do in jail-free food and accommodation in short.Has any of them had the real feel of Santhosh’s broken words?

-She..my sister died in my arms…writhing in severe pain.He souldnt be sentenced to capital punishment..He should experience the deadly pain.The pain she suffered.-…. “

“Yes teacher,I had been thinking of this since long…The ultimate punishment should be to cut his genital off,bruise arms and if possible pierce the vulture eyes too.. “,replied me.

“No Jyotsna”,she retaliated.”That could be the least.Let’s apply Pavlov’s theory here. He should shudder when clock strikes 7 every morning and evening.A hundred whips,and cause blisters in his genital with a burning cigar ,every day at this particular time of day..let he know what helplessness is..fear is…pain is…”

Friends ,words of protestation those where,of course..but think..why a ladies coach?Will that ,or taking the zenana to the middle or giving it a particular colour solve all the problems?

P.S.

Late night in the month of august.I was chatting with a friend of mine in U.S.In between a male friend of mine intruded.

-hai,chechi…how are u?why at this time?

-hi……,well ippozhaanu free aayath.

-alla chettanille avide?

-yes,undallo,he s watching TV.

-Hmm.. errr.. chechi.. let me ask u something,,, Don’t feel bad tto…

-Illa.ask.

- err…what’s ur opinion about masturbation?

-hm..well dear brother,this doubt could be better cleared by ur mother.

And done with the chat .

To err is human…To forgive divine…

Dear brother and many a such gentle men, I pity you, for all the ladies around you are not frustrated house wives..

WOMEN-Such a wonderful ,lovable and unique creation. Respect, love and care for her.

PROUD TO BE A WOMAN.

KARMMAJAM

2011-01-08T01:22:00.000+05:30

Dreams,My Soul-Mate

2010-10-19T21:15:00.001+05:30

Dreams
Like an Autumn fall
Slipping down gently,gently
from the branches of soul ,spreading
the beads of aspirations all around.
The heart embracing them
kisses affectionately,whispering
love notes into the ears.

Dreams
Like a cute fledgling
gliding up slowly,excited
from the grass turf love-nest
Sprouting the rays of emotions within.
The heart anew,smiling
houses them passionately,singing
soft tunes into the love sick lips.

Dreams
Like the drops of summer rain
drizzling upon me,bashfully
from the bright eyes of dark clouds
blending to become one with me,
the soul throbbing,sheds a few stars
to sheen even more in the lustrous eyes
with moments of blissful confluence.

Dreams
Like the grains of first harvest
spreading fragrance of new hopes
into the world all new,drenched in divine love.
The flushing self,overflowing with
heavenly desire enlightening the soul
to flow along for ever and ever
into the unfathomable depth.

Dreams
Intoxicating the eyes,bright and wide open,
into the unknown realms of love.
Blossomed,unfolded minds
tumultuous pleasure of souls
blending of Hearts.
Dreams,My soul-mate.

ULTIMATE

2010-09-15T22:24:00.007+05:30

Vrindavan had unexpectedly faded away from within

Leaving me to severe longing, in scorching sun,

The moments,sewing apprehensions into hours

The strings of heart playing heaving silence.

A light year of a wink has passed incessently

since this unsaid pangs of thoughtlessness.

Hard realizations yet to be acknowledged.

Your haughty arrogance,My illuminated passion.

Then I saw the peacock plumes melting your proud soul

And churning sweetness of togetherness.

You have heard me my Lord,

And found my misplaced smiles for me.

The tears I had shed to dampen your soul

is now housing a thousand rainbow drops.

Blessed am I to live in oblivion

unlike many tired hearts melting in burning chillness

I see myself drowned in an .ocean of Bansuri-strains,

the ripples of rhythm lulling me to the banks of Yamuna.

I am now in that way,where we once parted.

Once again ,a while with a thin veil of hope anew.

And burning my worries out, filling around,

the aroma of red-madder blossoms

In the luster of your emerald smile.

A little tired was I after you were gone,but not the end.

And the time is ripe now,

to be lost in the unfathomable rays of your Blackness.

And forgive me, for, this sin of my ever evolving ,passionate Heart.

Strange Are The Ways Of Life...

2010-07-31T22:35:00.004+05:30

The bus came to an abrupt stop at the loud scream of an elderly woman.
"I've been robbed...",cried she running her emaciated hand through the lean neck every now and then.
The people in the bus started to murmer and look here and there.
Unfortunately I was the one sitting next to her and the sympathetic eyes that extended up to her fell upon me too suspiciously...
I slowly started to feel a sort of uneasyness.Adding to my perplexity somebody commented ,
"It's very difficult to differenciate between the gentle and the fraud now a days....".
But why should I be nervous like this...?,I asked myself .
After all I should be having only happy thoughts now with my little one tickling inside me...I ran the palm over my throbbing belly...
Is he too feeling my suffocation?yes,why should I be conscious of the eyes around me...
after all I don't look like a pick pocket...do I?
And moreover my large stomache housing the 8 month old should surely bring me sympathy too..

"Don't let anybody get down from the bus..."somebody suggested
The elderly woman was still wailing and mumbling,beating on her head with both the hands.
I watched her through the corner of my eyes.I sweated terribly when I learned that her suspicious look was falling on me at times..
"Take the bus to the next junction,let's seek the help of the highway police..." 't was the conductor.
Everybody agreed to the suggestion.I glanced at the watch.It was the day marking the beginning of the
higher secondary board examination and the watch showed the time already 9.10.I should be at the venue
which was just 5 km away, for invigilation duty, atleast by 9.20.Even if I make a call to the school
it would be difficult for them to find a substitute in this late hour.What should I do?
I decided to ask the police to check me and my belongings first and leave me soon.
A second thought made me sweat and shiver violently.What if the thief had dropped the chain in my bag in this hallaballoo?
All the movies with similer stories flashed past me,where the innocent were caught and insulted before the public.
I was reminded of the recent news story and photograph depicting the pitiable plight of a pregnant lady ,
brutally caned by the public ,accused of picking the pocket of a fellow traveller.I grew more and more weak.
Meanwhile the bus had reached the junction where the police had started checking the passengers and interrogating the lady.
"Grandma,how heavy was your chain?"
"just two sovereign, my son..usually my daughter don't allow me to wear it when I go out alone."
One of the policemen searching inside the bus announced that nothing could be found.
The police looked at the lady once again.She was in rags with a knapsack hanging on the left shoulder.
''Grandma,where did you board the bus from?
I looked at her with a start when she named the bus station .It was from where I had boarded the bus and I remembered that
nobody else had boarded from there except me and I myself had to run behind the bus which had stopped a few yards away from the station.
I wanted to intervene but at a second thought decided to keep silent since it may put me into more troubles and my reaching the venue was far more
important than the issue itself.
"Well grandma,where are you going to?
"err..hmm..to my son's house..it's only a walkable distance from here."
Now,the conductor who had been watching the whole scene fell in declaring that she got in to the bus from another station.
He added that she had collected a ticket to Mananchira but hadn't got down there .Finding her still in the bus ,he was about to enquire her about it when she stouted about the missing chain.The murmer inside the bus turned in to a loud uproar.
At this the lady tried to slip away fom the scene crying aloud like a small kid, mumbling.."to hell with the chain....you all are their people...all are conspirers.."
"The lady ought to be insane.Curse upon those who left her alone in such a condition..",somebody thought aloud.
"Well,grandma,give me your son's address.you can be our guest in the station untill he comes to take you home.
meanwhile let's draft a complaint too.."The police rose to the occasion.

The bus continued it's journey leaving the lady and the policemen behind.It was three quarters past nine.I was wondering whether to present the whole story to the head of the venue and convince her of my reason for being late or rush straight in to the examination hall.Sweating and panting ,I walked across the ground ,the happenings of the day still making me uneasy.
Is she really insane?
After all did she have a chain around her neck when she boarded the bus?
Did she really have a son?
will he go to the station to take her back home?
Strange are the ways of life.isn't it...?

My little one expressed his agreement with a heavy kick inside my womb...

Ode to a silent love...

2010-05-22T12:47:00.003+05:30

My quest for true love took my heart on a journey so tough,
And all those paths, I wonder why, extend up to your tolerant heart...
I find my aching heart leap up when I'm near you
I find a smile blooming in my weeping soul when I look into your eyes.
And blessed am I to feel your silent presence in and around me,
but, my ferine heart is torturing me, for, I know
You are far beyond my reach, my thoughts...
Do you see my requesting looks traverse through your eyes
Into thy heart to kindle the light of divine love?
Oh my life...
Here I sit along with my unsaid words yearning to know,
If you have felt them shed a few silent tears for you...
Waiting to see you happy as always...
To see you reach up to your dreams...
You have got to go I know...Still,
Can you hear my silence speak to you?
Can you feel my sighs pray for you and only you?
you know, I have now learned the art of selfless love...
For your nearness, a transient dream of hope,
Has made me so pure and free in love,
Foretelling me what I am going to miss in your absence.
Oh my dear..,
Please let the fragrance of fresh love soar from my dry heart
At the shower of your blissful eyes...Tender looks...

A Nice Citizen

2010-03-29T21:48:00.001+05:30

It was hot... Burning hot. I could feel the red hot sand piercing my sandals and kissing my feet. Searching to take refuge under some shade, I walked about looking here and there. It was then I noticed that the eyes of the referee giving instructions to the players at a distance, falling upon me every now and then. Our team members were in high spirits since they were confident of being the champion this year also. The championship for kabaddi had been our monopoly for the past few years. Finding a comfortable place under the shades of a tree I sat down. Seeing me seated the students came running from nowhere and placed all their belongings around me..I was loaded with wrist-watches, bangles, anklets,bracelets .spectacles and so on. There was an hour more for the game to begin. I simply sat there with nothing else to do, other than dream. At a distance I could see a silhouette giving instructions to the players. I guessed it to be the referee. Time crawled by and then I noticed the referee walking towards me. Wondering if there was yet any formality to complete, I got up from under the shade. By now he had reached close to me, a strong built man with a pleasing smile and an authoritative voice. There was a sort of resoluteness in his steps too. Fixing his eyes upon mine, he asked,”Ma’m, do you remember me..?” .Memories paraded before me at once.

March is the cruelest month says all students since it’s the time when they are tested of their honest labour, i.e. learning and also how much each one has toiled for it. It was a time for applying the traditional method of testing one’s intelligence or rather memory. And with a made up seriousness I entered the examination hall. The boys and girls were hurrying about with their last minute panic. I asked them to keep their books and bags outside and enter the hall. All of them looked so tensed. Some were praying closing their eyes tight; holding their breath. A few of the girls and boys were in writhe and wriggle as if they were sitting on a bed of nails. The bell rang announcing the commencement of exam. Distributing the sheets I made a general announcement…”Remember Abraham Lincoln’s words, it’s far honorable to fail than to cheat.”
Moving about and finding the students concentrated on their writing, I decided to sit down for a while. I never stood behind them reading their answers as I knew how embarrassing it’s for the writer when he/she feels the teacher reading the answers behind them. I remembered how my mind used to go blank and void in such situations. It was about an hour since the commencement of examination when I found a boy sitting still with only his name written on the paper. I felt sorry for the boy seeing a desperate look on his face. I stood up from the seat and started to move about once again.
During the next my rounds I found that in my absence the boy had filled in a few of the sheets surprisingly fast. I felt something fishy. I shivered at the thought that the boy had fooled me cheating in the exam. My next mission was to catch him red handed. So I tried all sorts of tricks .I went and stood at his back pretending not to notice him. After a while I found him pulling out a few strips of papers from his pocket. Not wasting a moment I fell upon him and asked for those papers. The boy had by then thrown it down on the floor. I was not ready to leave him and stood there with my extended hand demanding those papers. He stood before me burning with anger and shame. He bent over the paper and took it, and while I was triumphantly waiting to get hold of it, not wasting a second he thrust all those strips into his mouth and started chewing it vigorously. I felt the whole world revolving around me. The whole class was staring at me as if waiting for my next move. Somebody giggled and I stood sweating with shame and anger. In front of me stood the boy chewing and relishing the flavor of the Second World War! How easily could he digest the causes and result of the war! I wanted to laugh loudly then. Then regaining my wits, very calmly I moved towards him and without even a word I took back all the sheets from him and gave him fresh sheets to answer from the beginning. Then smiling at him I asked him to meet me after the exam. I don’t know what prompted me to do all these. It was only a few months after my joining here and couldn’t even guess how the boy might respond. I remember he was a heavy built boy with a severe face and an air of arrogance. But soon I found the boy standing in front of me with bowed head and tear filled eyes. Placing my hand on his shoulder affectionately, I told him that the greatest repentance is feeling ashamed of one’s misdeed and his tear filled eyes is an answer to all .I also added that I didn’t want to exaggerate the matter to anybody and the matter is to be solved between us, and that I only wanted a promise that he will never repeat this. I told him that he was a boy with a lot of potentials and if he utilizes it in the right way he would reach heights…

“Ma’m don’t you remember me?”
“How can I ever forget you dear…!”,I whispered.
He continued…”Ma’m I had once come to school just to meet you as soon as I got the job as a physical education teacher in the ….international school. But you were on leave then. How I always wished to be a teacher like you…”
I smiled at him and for the first time felt so proud of being able to touch the heart of an individual and to be a cause of a change in attitude of a human towards life.

A Hard Test,Not Tipped Over.

2010-03-02T17:30:00.005+05:30

Why did you start your pranks again ,dear heart,
leaving my softness to flutter within-
extending the sweet pangs to prick
with the little darts?
Is it so that you are going to live my life
and leave me a puppet
swaying at your finger tips?

I cannot get hold of the harness of thy chariot.
Are there any Gods to condone my sins?
I hate the way in which you stab from behind.
leaving my haughty soul to torture,
And then feeling victorious
laugh at the fall of my pride.

Your this kind hearted fairy is in a dilemma,
as my obedient mate is pulling me to sin
to see myself full of pain and woe.
Now as the Hornbills yearn for the rain clouds
I yearn for thy nearness unseen-
to be lost in thy sparkling looks,ever new.

The fault is mine,but no way to redeem myself,that
I'm caught within the spell of your mysterious eyes.
I find them holding me so dear, for so long.
Finally with my face shining with the thoughts,
of the moments of togetherness,
let me answer your cry...

The unspoken words, unsung song,
the beads of smile in the string of my life,
all are you ,yes ofcourse you,
I'm in you and you in me
call us one ,if love is not a sin
sweet my love,I live for thee.

Music of Eternity

2010-02-14T21:57:00.001+05:30

HE,
The only truth,
The eternal one
The inevitable
Keeping his heavy tread along with me
(fools snigger in vein,feeling triumphant,
thinking they are above him)
HE,
Like the morning shadow ,
is always a step ahead of me ,
watching ,
Ever ready to offer the strong arms
when my weary heart starts panting.
Me,
unaware of his silent presence,
rests my head on his shoulder
eyes half close, feeling the rapturous kiss.
The soothing arms slowly holds me tight,
in an embrace.
Then like the mid-day shadow ,
be one with me.
sucking out the last sigh,
and melting myself in HIM.
Now we are one.
HE,
my throbbing soul,
always with me
justifying my existence,
my love.
If silence be a bliss,
I wonder ,
if I could woo HIM,The passionate Death,My love.

Ode On Summer

2009-11-16T23:31:00.005+05:30

(song of futility)
(written years back on a burning summer day..the schools had reopened late that year due to scarcity of water)

Lamenting worried hearts
Plunging their gnarled roots
deep down the mire
into the burning crust of summer,
listened to the funeral ode.
They tried closing their noisy ears
and still was heard beyond the barriers.
The salty beads of agony
came out as a sprout
feeding on the music of eternity;
but were unseen within moments,
extending the fragrance of draught
and serpants of aspirations.
They spread their hood,swaying,
then falling unstable,
crawling
trying to seek shelter
at the unexpected inner current.
Sticky throats yearned for life
and searched for their lost selves.

The Tempest

2009-11-08T11:33:00.004+05:30

(lines written at Talassery beach in 1994)

The sea seemed unusually dark
The water violent
And I am all stirred
Like these roaring waves.
A single boat
Floats away
snapped off the anchor.
And me too
like an un-anchored boat
Floats all alone
Lost in myself
Nobody to direct
Not even the west wind
To take unto my destination.
I'd have wooed death
Than to melt in pain.
But why to crush those little dreams
Waiting for a brighter morn,
To bloom in full,
Taste the dewdrops
dance in the breeze,
And fly high
fluttering their tiny wings
To leap at the Sun..!

Sow a character, reap a destiny

2009-11-01T21:51:00.012+05:30

My ardent belief after all proved right.Whatever is destined to happen will happen, do what we may to prevent it . The interview which was postponed, was conducted a month or two later, and there I was again to be in my home town, lead by the mysterious tone of that invisible Piper -to become what I wished to become and to do what I wished to do.By then I've made up my mind;I'm going to my home town so that no body's feelings are hurt.But I knew, my wandering thoughts and passionate heart are going to miss a lot.The wonderful train journeys in the twilight,the imperishable beauty of the Nila,her ripples mirroring the moonlit night..all will very soon become but a dream.But every thing happens for a good cause and may be this one too.I chanted those lines from Alice in wonderland,again and again...
"But it's no use going back to yesterday,
because I was a different person then."
Thus savouring as a dream ,my life in the lap of Nila ,I journeyed back,for brighter days ahead.

It was the first day in my new school.Had the usual excitement of meeting new faces-both of students and that of the staff .Lucky enough that this one was going to be the 6Th institution that I am going to work with!The memories of all those schools that I've worked with flashed through my mind; the students,staff,the environment.Suddenly a wonderful fact struck me - it's always the so called mischievous and notorious students that later come running ,
recognizing us ,whenever they happen to see us, years after of their leaving the school ,saying,"Ma'am we miss our school days,we miss the love, the care ,of our beloved teachers..."

Thus I entered.On through the ground ,up the stairs and then in front of the office cum staffroom.No sooner did I handed over the letter of appointment than the principal gave me a book and said,"errr...well...so you have been working as a guest lecturer and must be familiar with the book.Those stairs up will take you to the Humanities class.The first room to the right...beware,they are a bit tough to tame...just call me if you find anything annoying there..".I could feel a sort of anxiety in his voice .(later i learned that he had been struggling to run the classes with only a handful of teachers, out of which almost all the ladies were on maternity leave!) . I gave out a rather wry ,embarrassed smile and mounted up the stairs ,not able to decide on how to break the ice!

Reaching up stairs,I doubtfully peeped into the class when I heard shouts of welcome.."Miss...come in ,this is the class you are searching for..". They were so excited to see a new face and were anxious to find out how boring she could be,conspiring on how to tackle this new prey!

Smiling,I looked at each and every face.Greeting them I asked,"so as a teacher new to this institute and to your class,what do you expect me to do first?"
I knew that providing them with options to choose and giving a sympathetic ear to their suggestions is the best way to manage adolescent children.Somebody from behind said,"As you wish ,Miss..".

And I began,

"My dears,I don't wish to thrust my ideas upon you, but want to share my thoughts with you.Similarly ,you may also share yours with me.I don't want you to reproduce some body's thoughts, and so here I'm to help you think.We the teachers like the railway guards ,can only give you the right signals and let you off the station towards your destination.You will find such guards at various stations of your life.We can only guide and the responsible duty of moving through the right track ,pausing at the right stations,solely falls upon you.Moderate your speed and concentrating on the rhythm of your wheels, proceed confidently with only the distant destination in your mind. See the right signals and obey the rules.Success will be yours."

I stopped for a while to give them some time to ponder over.There was pin drop silence in the class.Children sat holding their breath.I realized I've said more than what I have thought to say.I had only planned to get acquainted with those new faces in that first class.But seeing those young,restless boys and girls sitting before me with an ocean of dreams and passion for life, in their eyes ,I couldn't help speaking.

I continued,
"Life like an echo,reverberates our deeds.We may find all the tracks before us equally good.success lies in choosing the right one at the right time.So consider the words of you guards,your guides,coz most of the paths ,like a mirage ,may mislead you.Remember we are the makers of our own destiny,for it's our thoughts that become words,words become action ,action become habit,habit to character and character decides our destiny".

The bell rang reminding us of the end of an hour.
"Miss,why don't you continue?It's a free hour for us",somebody said.
"Be back with you soon',said I.
And thus I went out quite happy and content at the heart,being able to convey my thoughts to those nice and ambitious youths of the most notorious class.

On Faith and Belief

2009-10-26T18:17:00.010+05:30

It was the month of January.A month,pouring the glory of a new beginning and hope, all around.The charm of the early birds added to the beauty of the day.
such a fresh morning was it with the tiny dew drops shining against the rays of dawn
at the tip of blade grass that grew around.The butter-cups,the golden magnolias and the scarlet red shoe flowers gave out an unusual lustre in that morning.such was the splendour of the day along with the golden beads on the laburnum, which had blossomed earlier the season, giving a festive look altogether.

And we had been waiting and waiting in this pleasant morn,such a long wait was it.
Three hour had passed in the long queue.It would not be that easy for any unbeliever to withstand the long wait,but for me and many others who had by now become one with Lord Krishna.Such was the crowd in the Temple of Guruvayoor on this very day a year before.There is no time-line for me to draw as for to say when and how had I fallen in love with Krishna.I believe it was there,the passion for Him ,in me as the embers hidden under ashes long back in my childhood itself.May be with the passing of time,my passionate heart showered his glorious deeds aloud, like the rain clouds which at times find it difficult to hold the heavy drops and scatter down.I remembered that for the past few difficult years when ever I had asked Him to find me the right way out, He had always guided me walking in front ,holding a torch of love and compassion.

Years back during my life incognito there was quite a good pressure from my husband's family to bring me back to the native.But it was a wish against my thoughts.Every one blamed me for rejecting such a stupendous opportunity of working with a reputed institution.But I had my own reasons.I was not yet prepared for a journey back.I simply said,"I do believe that whatever is destined for me will surely fall upon me.If I am the person to work there I will surely get in to the post what ever may befall.so I have decided to continue here till I am quite sure of coming back myself".There was no body to support me,not even friends and so decided to do the next best thing,IE,yielding to the wish of the family.I wept hopelessly calling out Krishna.The next week was kept apart for making up my mind to attend the interview.Finally the decisive day arrived.After all it's only an interview and it's possible that I might not get through.I waited in front of the school office along with my husband. There were a lot of candidates waiting anxiously for the call.I stood as if in a trance.What should I do now...What magic spell should I cast on the officials to somehow postpone this interview?I sat under the shades of a tree with my eyes closed,cursing Krishna.. .My turbulent mind was unaware of the things happening around.After hours of waiting,I opened my ears to a mumbling turned uproar.'The interview is postponed.One of the teachers had obtained a stay for the same'.Am I dreaming...I looked around in disbelief.My husband threw an indifferent glance at me saying,"so powerful the plea to your Krishna ,huh?I couldn't say anything.I walked out with my heart so heavy and beating fast in ecstasy.still I wonder,if my happiness then was, for remaining in my hide-out for a few more days or for the miracle that postponed the interview...

"The sanctum sanctorum is being closed for the afternoon pooja.It will take another hour more in the queue".The thread of my thoughts were broken by this soliloquy.Kids had started expressing their weariness in the form of obstinacy.
'Let's come back later,why don't we go now and have some food?More over it's Aami's birthday today.We may not get anything to eat if we are late to the hotel",Husband expressed his uneasiness.
"No,let me first take her for darshan.After all we have waited all these hours.why don't we wait some more time?",I was quite decided.I was now standing facing the sanctum sanctorum though at a distance.I closed my eyes visualizing Krishna adorned in flowers and peacock feathers,with the bansuri in his hands and the most mysterious and naughty smile on his lips.
"Sister why don't you sit down for a while?It is a long wait.your hands must be aching holding the little one".I woke up from my deep thoughts to this compassionate voice ,to find a young man ,a devaswom employee ,giving a sympathetic look at my little son sleeping on my shoulders.I recognized him as the one I had seen earlier controlling the crowd in the queue.
"It's all right brother.I always find it very difficult to get up once i sit down.More over I've seated my daughter on my legs,see!"I said pointing to the b'day girl sitting on my feet.
"Oh! that's a wonderful seat little one",he lisped to her patting her head affectionately.He went on talking to us and lisping to my daughter at times.
At last putting an end to the long wait,the sanctum sanctorum opened before us.We flowed along with the crowd.The young man expressed his happiness in being able to get acquainted with us.Inside we had a good darshan and came out content at the heart.
"It's too late now.don't know if we would find any good eatery to get some nice feast for our daughter",it was my husband thinking a bit aloud.
As we were about to leave the entrance,we heard a call from behind.It was that young man again.He said,"sister,come along with me please.."We looked at each other doubtfully and followed him.In,through the temple kitchen and up the stairs we found ourselves in the 'Oottupura'! (the temple dining hall)I wondered if I was dreaming for I have always quite disappointingly watched the long queue there ,waiting for the prasad, but have never tried my luck.The young man seated us comfortably and laid the plantain leaf before us.He asked us to wait there until the others in the queue are let in, before having the food.The birthday girl's face lit up to see her favourite curry made out of curd and ripe mangoes.Only after his leaving did we realize that we had even forgotten to thank him in our excitement.Later,on reaching down we searched for the man but in vein.I painfully said that we hadn't even asked his name.May be we could ask him next year if at all we meet him again,thought I.Another hopeful year...
Such recurring incidents warn me of the presence of Krishna in and around me,keeping pace with me and giving me a hand to hold on whenever I tumble ,voicing for me whenever I fumble;providing me that soothing shoulders for my weary head to rest on.I believe time has no power over the deeds of Krishna.He dwells within those keeping faith in Him,spreading all His glory and beauty.His thoughts fills in me as refreshing comforts and somebody within says,
"...I love thee,
I love thee
and I hate to go beyond you,
you know because I love you..."

Life has taught me that keeping ardent faith in anyone or anything ,whether it be Krishna,Allah,Christ,Our own Parents or let it be a dear friend of ours,will work miracles.This same faith helps us to dream,to do our duty and die and remains an evidence of things not seen.Let our life be no empty dream.

Where have all our children gone?

2009-10-10T22:25:00.004+05:30

The long awaited sports' week has arrived.The whole school ,the staff and the students ,were in a festive mood even days before.The campus resembled a rainbow with an array of colourful flags and papers representing various houses..blue,green,yellow and red...The announcements,music,children in their sports wear,refreshments,warming up...the whole atmosphere had contained the real spirit even before the inaugural functions and the commencement of the events.

And for the teachers these festive days are of self appraisal.These are the days when we understand if our students are really being "taught"or more better if we have succeeded in imparting the proper meaning of 'education ' in them.These are the times when most of the teachers realize that ,the students whom they often address as mere morons ,are those who extend a helping hand in all the tedious manual labour,whether be it like arranging the stage,marking tracks,climbing up the trees and heights decorating the campus,carrying desks and benches up and down,giving first aid and what to say..volunteering the whole events and activities and even staying back if needed;thus revealing the value and essence of education.

Going down the memory lane ,I remember when it was time for my choosing a career ,there were two options before me.being a diploma holder in journalism i could either step into the fourth estate or else pursue my career in teaching with my degree in education.but unlike today,none of the dailies and magazines in kerala encouraged the so labelled fairer sex and my thoughts always quoted kalpana chawla reminding me"if boys can do,why can't I?"Thus after assumptions and presumptions ,I made up my mind to take up my job as a teacher and continue being a free hand writer.Thus I am here as a loving teacher to my dear students and writing my thoughts out to satisfy my ambitious self.

Everything went on smoothly until a few moments before we could call it a day when there came the unexpected bombshell.One of the teachers was hit on the face by a student.The issue goes like this...two of the boys who came in the second and third positions were disqualified for violating the track rules and this provoked some of their housemates .They straight away came to question the teacher and hit him on the face violently.Some other teachers seeing the happenings came running and seized the boy away from the scene.It was later reported that the boy on regaining his senses,confessed his mistakes and wrote a letter of apology to the teacher.The whole matter could have stopped then and there because we teachers like parents,wish to see these children realize their mistakes and rectify their flaws to become nice citizens.

But the next day,shattering our hearts and thoughts appeared posters all around abusing the teachers.There were a battalion of police outside,reporters from both print and visual media,cameras ,inside and outside the campus.What could have happened after the boy left the school apologizing?Who could have prompted him to get hospitalized declaring that the teachers have cruelly and brutally attacked him?A whole lot of unanswered questions and the very incident lies within ,undigested ,belching every now and then,and forcing me to explore the real meaning of education in these sleepless nights.

This and many other recent activities of the young generation proves that the meaning of education is misinterpreted.Somewhere and somehow the youngsters ,their stream of thoughts is being misguided in their attempt of comprehending the sense of education.If education simply means learning a set of facts what is the need for teachers ,as a good library this more an enough for that.Where do we fail in understanding and imparting the real meaning of education?Isn't this failure adding to the increasing crime?Skimming through the dailies a lot of young faces are seen caught for different crimes and as much as young faces are seen to commit suicides.

For me,education simply means the right flow of the stream of thought or in a more better way,guiding one's thoughts and ideas in the right path.This is purely individual and should happen within one's self.Here comes the relevance of a teacher.The teacher should take up the role of a catalyst helping in the development of individual minds,guiding and prompting them to think in a proper manner.

Let them have the patience to distinguish between right and wrong.
Let them think alone, reviewing one's own activities.
Let them be alert,listen to the world around them,hear everything,
but at the same time let them take in only what is good and true.
As Abraham Lincoln had said, let them have the strength not get behind the bandwagon.
Let them have a mind of their own.

And I ,who is better teased by friends as a preacher rather than a teacher,am far behind the syllabus trying to properly 'educate' the students.!

Syllabus changes...
Curriculum changes..
Examinations happens..
Evaluations takes place...

But years after while evaluating one's own life will there be any literate people to pass out in flying colours?

winding up for now quoting Swami Vivekananda...

“You have to grow from the inside out. None can teach you, none can make you spiritual. There is no other teacher but your own soul.”

“We are responsible for what we are, and whatever we wish ourselves to be, we have the power to make ourselves. If what we are now has been the result of our own past actions, it certainly follows that whatever we wish to be in future can be produced by our present actions; so we have to know how to act.”

.“Take up one idea. Make that one idea your life - think of it, dream of it, live on that idea. Let the brain, muscles, nerves, every part of your body, be full of that idea, and just leave every other idea alone. This is the way to success, that is way great spiritual giants are produced"

Tell Me Why...

2009-09-20T12:28:00.008+05:30

It was only a few days after my joining the new public school as a teacher specialized to teach English grammar to the little ones there.By now I have learned from the sparkling but anguished eyes of these tiny buds that they were rather anxiously waiting for this nightmarish figure-the so labeled teacher of grammar.My colleagues there even told me that one of the notorious classes (which they often called the Kashmir zone)were continually warned of my arrival telling them"hm...all of you are going to learn a lesson.The teacher of grammar has just arrived..."

I was in a dilemma on hearing the description about me that they have infused into those little hearts.I desperately wanted to convey them that I am never serious nor ferocious, both in my looks and my attitude toward students.I always associated the misbehavior of the students with either the atmosphere they are exposed to,or to the environment and surroundings in which they are brought up,but never as a flaw of their own character.For me infants are a mount of clay which turn into beautiful sculptures with perfect finishing in the hands of the right Mr or Mrs maker.

Thus lost in mental aberration,I flowed into the classes allotted to me putting an end to their presumptions and apprehensions ,letting them realize that learning a bit of grammar isn't like leaping at the sun in the yonder sky.As days went by I found the huge glacier of inhibitions slowly melting away and those innocent kids joining my sea of love and care ,to flow together to enter the distant ocean of unexplored realms of knowledge.

The work atmosphere there was so homely as the school itself was,like many other public schools in their infancy, an old, muslim ancestral home;a hall and four rooms upstairs and another hall and four other rooms downstairs and two staircases to the left end and right of the building.The kitchen served the purpose of ladies' staff room and a shed in the car-porch,that of gents'.As new comer I've always wondered why this division..why cant all the staff sit together?I strongly believed that that's a better way to prevent gossips and to develop a healthy relationship and mutual respect among men and women.
(To my happiness, in the institution where I'm working now ,we the 17 teaching and 4 non teaching staff are seated together devoid of class ,creed and sex,co-operating with each-other,sharing our thoughts,happiness ,sorrows and of course food!.)

But, we teachers had only a few moments of leisure time as we had to constantly keep watch of the restless little ones,go to the classes in substitution and train them in music and dance.Still when we are in staffroom for lunch or during the short recess time I shared my previous experience of teaching in a well known woman's college in the city.How boring it was to transact philosophical novels to the passive and adamant girls who came to the college for the sake of fun.I remember narrating to them a particular event of my unsuccessful effort to make a girl bring her books to the class and how she used to irritate me , reacting, sitting glued to her friend with her arms around her friends shoulder ,sharing book with her.Somehow their presence disturbed my class and I couldn't make out what was going through their minds.I never enjoyed my classes there since there wasn't the warmth or genuineness of relationships either among the students or the staff.How I longed to be among lively humans then!

A month later, I rushed into the staffroom to find my colleagues eagerly waiting for me with the day's newspaper.They handed over the daily to me and watched me closely.There ,on the front page of the daily was the photographs of two college girls.The news read.."Friends commit suicide running into a train..."the incident that forced them to kill themselves was the engagement of one of the girls.There was the photograph of that cute and very feminine girl with beautiful eyes ,as her name suggests, along with the other one ,tall and lean and who always dressed like a boy.I remember she was a girl of few words who always looked so bold and grave.Paralyzed,I sat on the bench.The image of those girls sitting glued to each other in the front bench of the B.com class,appeared before me.

This incident still remains in me as a problem without a solution..unanswered.What stuffs are human mind made of?where do we go wrong if at all we are wrong..?
Yesterday, one of my friends shared her anxiety in letting her 10 year old daughter to stay along with her bosom friend , and it was then that this incident which happened 14 years ago, zoomed in to my mind.She added that now every holidays the girl is calling her and forcing her to let the child stay with her.
Anxiety of a mother...no...of many mothers.....
I'm getting goosebumps...

Sobs Of A Departed Soul(In memory of my loving student Sujith who left us last month)

2009-09-12T18:48:00.002+05:30

You departed peeling off my heart,
that smile unseen under the tear-shed eyes
the twinkling of your eyes,subduing looks...
Overwhelming thoughts lisping around,
never have I felt so very broken before
Did I hear you call from behind?

Now what are we?
just a piece of human,
destined to serve reward less?or
an expiated soul pulling the burden,with
no demigod to utter a word of comfort?
can any soothsayer puzzle out this cause?

But, yes..I hear a silent step
(a mild chill peeping into my heart)
I feel His presence
even in this growing darkness.
Is he going to touch me...
I feel a frosted hand over my shoulder,I shudder...

Before me ,an aching womb lamenting
at her lost delight of a son's touch and
unheard sweetness of his lovely words.
Thorns of sorrow hurting all eyes,to see
the soul encased in the frame of bone
float far off to those frosted hills.

Toast-Masters

2009-08-23T13:03:00.012+05:30

Growing along with me, my childhood pranks attained puberty at the age of 21,during my university days.When it came to choosing a campus for the postgraduate course ,I was obviously influenced to a considerable extent by the sort of nature I possess,and I chose the university campus at Palayad ,for its serene and romantic atmosphere.The other two choices were discarded outright as I knew that I would never survive the dullness of vast, dry, wasteland with intellectual air surrounding it and the hullabaloo of the so called usual campus coquetry.

For the first time away from parental shelter...was it the thought of being grown up or the pain of leaving dear ones behind ,that left my heart, beat so fast?I was not able to distinguish between the panic of free and anxious heart with that of loneliness.Soon I found myself in front of a huge wooden door with heavy chains attached to it.The looks of the building portrayed the architecture of India before independence.The room ,or more clearly, the space allotted to me was one corner of a big hall which reminded me of the dark room of my pre-degree physics lab.I was provided with a creaking metal cot and a small table to keep my books and belongings.Somebody switched on the light and slowly I was able to see twenty to twenty-five such metal cots around, with girls of different profiles and gestures, either seated or lying carelessly extending a cold look at me.I noted down in my mind rather loudly, 'No, this is not going to be my cup of tea.'Then and there began the moments of my miseries.The room itself was a dungeon for my romantic self.My corner mate,jay, who was also my would-be classmate expressed her whole hearted support for all the activities that I would plan in order to help us get rid of the suffocation.

The thoughts of the usual breakfast of dried tapioca (vaattukappa) with the passive coconut chutney(Being a tuned up vegetarian the red meat served along with the same was not to be opted for.), the afternoon meals trying to cope up with our alien tongue,and the dark room stinking with wet undergarments of the inmates , always tempted us to prolong our stay either in the campus or in the beach near by.We couldn't skip our breakfast as there were eyes around to betray these rebels and enjoy the privileges flattering the warden nun.So often we skipped the lunch at the hostel and took shelter in the university canteen to relish the oil bathed delicacies, soaked in Gopalettan's love.But this couldn't satisfy our stomachs and they soon began their fight for justice creating unnecessary troubles at unexpected hours.

It was then the thought of Malabari biriyani made ripples in this vegetarian heart and the cliché- meals forced me to declare of having the same sooner or later.Saying so I panted as if I would starve to death.My corner mate agreeably nodded at this with a lit-up face at the thought itself.Thus we made our own enquiries, researches and explored unknown realms of the strange land, hunting for a restaurant only to find the aged Victoria which stood on the beach,facing the dark sea.Very secretly,without revealing anything to our day scholar-classmates and God-fearing room mates ,marked an auspicious hour for this unlawful activity of having a biriyani from the restaurant.On the day we got ready for our classes earlier than usual .Afternoon hours were for library references which we decided to bunk for the day.

The unusual darkness at the entrance of the restaurant embarrassed us and we enquired a man standing outside if the hotel was under repair or what.Without waiting for the sceptic natives' reply we stepped in when a man at the counter,his face burning against the candle light,leapt on to us,panting and asking why we were there.With a teasing smile I replied,"Not to watch a movie of course,but to have some food.well don't you serve food here?"
May be due to my alien slang he soon realized that we were new to the place.With an appology he said,"I'm but sorry,it's power failure here.but I can lead you to the table"Saying so ,he grabbed a few candles from the counter and seated us on a table near the entrance.Fixing the candles on the table,he asked us what we would like to have.''Chicken biriyani."We answered in a chorus."I'm afraid but there is no biriyani for the time being.How about some parottas or chappathis with chilly chicken?"We looked at each other and answered in a nod."Please would you mind waiting for half an hour ?we usually make parottas only as per order".Felt like telling him we were ready to wait for ages but simply suppressed our excitement in a grunt.
The man left us giving directions to the waiter,when we looked around the room which was now visible in the faded candle light.We weren't the lone diners there.There were about seven to eight tables more in the room with half a dozen people seated around each.All 'dozing males 'in black and white with dreamy eyes throwing piercing glances on us.There were bottles and glasses all around the table,some half filled,and showing colour variations.We held our breath on learning what was going on there.As I opened my mouth to whisper something to Jay's ears,my eyes caught hold on an old,human size calender of a Tamil actress ,partially dressed to reveal her curves.The counter read 'BAR',burning red against a zero volt bulb.We found our heads in a whirl.

Jay and myself could scan each others thoughts and before we could decide anything the waiter laid our tables with the dishes.Rushing out without having our food would be a blemish for the whole women folk,thought we and gobbled our food ,every now and then wiping our burning eyes and running nose.(The dish served should of course be too hot and spicy for us as it was specially made to pacify the liquor drowned frozen tongues.)Making our way towards the wash amidst those hungry folks is beyond any acceptable explanation.We looked red and sulky,colouring to the roots.paying the bill and asking the waiter to keep the balance for himself,we somehow made our way out only to let loose our subdued breath.we gave out a groan of relief.out we walked along the beach as if in a trance,the two of us,covered by the mist of perfectly howling silence.

We wouldn't dare to say anybody about this mishap,but simply asked our native classmates the next day if the hotel serves good dishes. One of the girls giggled and winking her eyes said,"yeah,but only to pacify the gluttony of men!"She went on and on with fairy tales related to the hotel ...The dribbling sweat soaked us in thoughts.
Together we commented with a made-up grin ,"പെണ്ണ് ഒരുമ്പെട്ടാല്‍ ബ്രഹ്മനും തടുക്കില്ലാ...and obviously,where women are concerned,the unexpected always happen...

Who Am I?

2009-08-13T17:23:00.005+05:30

My days are a heaven of memories
that I cherish every moment.
And my dreams wake me up
to an Eden of new hopes.
Life glances at me innocently
like a child new born,and
I wonder how very much
I have gained
with a simple smile of mine,
by simply being thoughtful
by simply being happy...
By doing right things for right reasons,
and inspiring the fellow beings.
By giving respect and being humorous.
By showing gestures of consideration, and
being so responsible.
By giving ears to humans
and being grateful to them.
So with a happy face and
confident heart let me say...
I am a real human being,
and I dare to dream.

Lapsus Momeriae

2009-07-26T21:49:00.008+05:30

The day was unusually pleasant.The consternation of the previous day had already faded out as I felt quite comfortable with the session I was going to deal with.I had thought and researched thoroughly on a new introductory and icebreaker session.Unlike the previous trainings,here,we had to deal with the higher secondary teachers from various streams and fortunately or unfortunately ,we,all the four resource personnel,were of literature background.But we knew that proper preparations always improves one's confidence level and so were ours.
I had reached the venue quite early to see to the arrangements and had quite a lot of time to ponder over the day's sessions.It was a cosy little room, above the restaurant, which could accommodate forty to fifty participants.The registration began at 9.30am and I too sat along with the staff from the SCERT to help him with the dispersing of pen and file.Teachers entered the hall one by one.I had now started preparing charts for the sessions and moving about here and there to find an appropriate space to hang them when my eyes fell upon a beautiful lady with big eyes and enthusiastic looks gazing at me with a mysterious smile.There was something so unusual and strange about that look.The more suspiciously I looked at her the more maliciously she smiled.Don't know why I was so disturbed with the look.Arranging the charts and hanging them up my eyes fell upon her every now and then.
My session began soon after the inauguration and got involved in it, forgetting everything else.As the session proceeded the participants were grouped and made to make a few write-ups.I moved around the groups giving them instructions and guiding them.Again among the group, this particular face attracted my attention.She was so fully involved in those discussions that she could hardly find time to embarrass me!Yet at times those warm looks instilled a freezing chillness in my heart.I couldn't look long at her and was moving zombie like,completely lost in thoughts as I felt a closeness of previous birth relation with her.She didn't talk to me but smiled at me every now and then, hiding the excitement and an unsaid pain,biting her lower lip.
She was fair,tall and heavy built with big eyes and an attractive smile.But the dark rings under her eyes shadowed an unsaid pain and agony.Curiosity was building up in me, nibbling my thoughts.I couldn't get to talk to her.During lunch time she, very cleverly, slipped away from me knowing that I was trying to get to know her.We could call it a day only by 8.30pm and by the time of valedictory function she had gained a lot of friends due to her undaunted and carefree nature and attractive manners and talks.
Hari called me up and said he would drop by to pick me from the venue.So we,the so called resource people, decided to settle the official formalities and have food from the restaurant
down.Almost all the participants had rushed home without waiting for the food,when I found the lady hanging around .I smiled at her and asked for the first time if there was anybody to accompany her back home.In return,instead of answering me, she asked,
'would you mind having a cup of tea with me?'
My curiosity had now developed into a deep concern.Moving down I was about to ask more about her family when she asked me all of a sudden,
"Joe,don't you remember me?you have put on weight still I could..." She went on.
A lightning flashed past my heart.Only people so close to me address me so dearly"joe" and here is a lady talking to me as if she and me are known to each other for ages!I tried in vein to recollect her.But my memory had failed me.I felt like crying.Why am I not able to recognize her?The face and name of almost all my school and college mates,people with whom I have worked with till then,all appeared before me .Nowhere could I place this beautiful face.Very desperately I said,
"pardon me,but I don't know what has happened with me that I forgot so dear a person like you."

Hot flashes exhausted me.She suppressed her answer in a giggle.At this I felt annoyed at her insolence.Down at the restaurant Hari was there waiting for me.I could only introduce her as a course participant to him.During our tea came the next thunderbolt,when she enquired hari about his mother and grandma.At a wink of an eye, very triumphantly I shouted,
"so you must be his relative,right?"
Giggling again she replied,
"well ,that's true,but we are known to eachother even before that and of course not through him!"
I was in a fix ,desperately trying to redeem my senses.I started feeling a numbness within, due to the pain of forgetfulness burning inside me which was a novel experience in all these life.The cluttered thoughts in me made my head ache.I was about to burst out when she said,
"Joe,I am Sreedevi"
I shook like an autumn leaf.How could a friend so dear to me fly beyond my memory?How could a person so closely associated with me,with whom I had shared my dreams thoughts and sorrows thirteen years ago, get faded out from my thoughts in course of time?I remember I had even proposed her for my elder brother.Our evenings together,talks,dining together and moments we shared appeared before me as if on the silver screen .The feeling of guilt pricked my heart so hard.She went on asking about my home and kids.She added that she always asked about me to any of my acquaintance she came across.I couldn't hold fast the tears that blinded my vision.She held my arms for a while and pressing it softly bid me goodbye.
Way back home Hari was talking about her...father's death,miseries that destiny had brought about in her life and so.But all the time I was wondering why it so happened with me.It remains a mystery when I think how such an episode in my life faded out of my memory.People come to our life and their presence leave an imprint of their love in our hearts.So did this very special friend of mine.But over all these years I have never had a feeling that I have been forgetting something so precious...
Back home I sat brooding over my dead memory .Now whenever I think of this incident my heart aches unsympathetically.I wonder now,if there are more such people and happenings which had been dissolved away from my thoughts.A chill of fear reddens my face at this thought.I've always thought that I'll never ever allow my memories outweigh my dreams...but what are dreams worth of ,if memory itself is a dream..!!!???

In To The Wild...

2009-07-20T16:39:00.004+05:30

Like any other children ,my kunhettan and myself always eagerly awaited for our summer vacations.It was the time for our yearly visit to the native,Payyannur.But we always preferred to leave for Naayattupaara,the place where our father's youngest brother's family lived.The place, as the name suggests, was a hunter's paradise in those days.Bus service from Calicut to Naayattupara was namesake.If one miss the 7O'clock "Bindu",one had to take a bus to Kannur and then take another one from there.So on the day of our departure father used to hurry us up to be at the bus-station on time.there before seeing us off he would intimate the driver and conductor to have an eye on us and see that we got down at the right place.Also he would confirm the time of the return trip of the bus and arrange with us to be back after a week or two.

Our Uncle's house was amidst acres of dark,cosy,thickets formed by the cashew trees which bore mouth watering, red and yellow, fresh, fleshy, juicy cashew fruits.The thought of those mellow fruits smeared with salt and their roasted nuts(which Elayamma used to roast for us in the evenings when all of us sat in the back yard listening to the hunter tales of Elayachan)always tempted us to longer our stay there and cut short the days or skip the other visits.
There,electricity was then a dream and what to say of transport!My uncle didn't have a toilet in those days and looing was a pleasant picnic!We would disappear among the thickets with a bucket of water in to a quarry where the vast blue sky served the roofing...It was a world of privacy and we sang aloud and read magazines (which we hid among the gaps of stones)for hours forgetting the purpose of our arrival.Who ever does it first would give out a loud whistle to let other know that theyare in the near by quarry.

The immediate neighbour of our uncle was around 10 to 12 kilometres beyond the thickets.I remember they were a teacher family.We befriended their kids Vinu and Mini,who later joined us with all sorts of mischief-makings.(Dear Vinu and Mini,if at all you happen to read this post,please leave a comment to let me know where you are...) Our cousin Maniyechi used to take us along with her to graze the cattle in the wild and back.We would walk beside her listening to her stories,and helping her in picking up cashew nuts.We enjoyed pressing the fruit with our feet and then with a twist separating the nut.Then all of a sudden we would run, leaving her,screaming and shouting, to climb up the hillock,stay there a while watching the distant village ,slip down and dissolve into the western sky.Late n the evening Vinu and Mini, along with their parents, would accompany us to Elayachan's house. We always quarrelled to bear and swing the lighted coconut leaf scrolled into a torch.The evenings at Naayattupaara were unusually dark and it always reminded me of a beautiful painting.

Another game that we enjoyed there was swinging to and fro on the roots of the banyan trees like tarzan.My uncle used to tie us a swing in the wild on the day prior to our arrival there.We would enjoy regardless of time exploring the nature and eating wild fruits like Apu and Durga or little heroes of Enyd Blyton.The sweetness of a certain wild fruit which the natives called "kottakkay"is still lingering on my alien tongue.We often hurt our elbows and knees which left scars and a sweet pain of pleasant memories even after years.When it was time to return to Calicut we felt like being shaken from a beautiful dream.Back in the bus we would sit quite silent with heavy hearts and tear filled eyes,waving at Maniyechi and our new found friends,praying for yet another journey back soon the coming year.

As years passed by the frequency of visits slowly lessened.Hectic life brought in domestic worries and troubles.But even today I try not to fail in going to Naayattupaara once a year for a one day visit.The land once free from blemishes has now changed a lot enslaving to the spokesmen of industrialization.Thickets are cleared for amazing sky scrappers.The red-soiled path along the bush lay almost unused, against the newly built road with rubber trees on either sides, saluting us..Vehicles are in plenty now.Yet I prefer to walk all the way to Uncle's home without giving ear to the mumbling of my kids,explaining to them how we had enjoyed the healing breeze and feather touch of serenity years ago.Listening to me, my little poetess daughter would look at me with her astonished eyes and ask"Amma,don't you feel like climbing up on the wings of time and float back to those bygone years of happiness..?"

Revalations Of An Indian Woman

2009-07-10T23:08:00.006+05:30

LOST FOR EVER...

Last dawn...
Driven by nightmares
I woke up and found,
It's darkness in and around me.
Arrows of chill,
pricked each sinew
piercing my heart.
Deciduous mind strives to seek refuge
under lush green favour.
shuddering,
I felt the sharpness of a single hair
under my feet.
The offensive odour of the hell
made me nauseate.
Dark shadows staring at me,
I gave out a loud roar
but,voices were silent.
Salty rivulet moistures my lips.
I knew I was in a lost world
with not a saviour
to utter a word of comfort.

HARMONY

The music of solitude
Smeared my heart
Making my thoughts
float like clouds,and
I'd see myself
Turning a lyre.
You, the Symphony,
I the Rhythm,
Together let's make
this World a Hymn.

On Killing A Daughter(In memory of soumya and little shahana and many other blooming buds killed brutally by an erotomaniac-courtsey to Geive patel's on killing a tree)

2009-07-01T18:57:00.008+05:30

It takes quite a little time to kill a girl child.
of course not a tedious task...
just a simple look may do it,or
will a single grain under her tongue.

She has grown quite slowly
consuming the Mother,
bursting out of her
upon her breast,
absorbing years of life giving nectar.
And out of her shining smile
sprouting happiness.
It takes only a few seconds to
erase those happiness.

So eve tease and abuse her
but this alone wont do it.
Not so much pain will do it.
'cos,the aching heart will heal
and from the happy heart will arise
new thoughts and confidence.
New hopes and aspirations,
which if unchecked will expand again
outshining the previous thoughts
and growing more than the former size.

NO..!This shouldn't happen.

So the heart is to be pulled out
from the loving,caring ties.
It is to be torn and seared,
and attacked and raped.
and choked by covering her breath.
watch her struggling for life,
her delicate body exposed
to hot burns of your vulgar, vulture eyes.

Her body,soft,delicate, and pure.
The most sensitive covered and protected
by the prayers and love of a mother,
for years, inside the womb,the earth,the heaven...
Now left to the cruel saviours
in the hot sun,cold ,air,and
lust sick hearts,
reddening,wounding,bleeding decaying.
sucking out life and last breath,
off her mouth.

And it is done...

at the growth of ten or eleven years.
(if possible even before)
Yet,if she survives...
don't you worry...
with years of grief and shame
She would soon be a living corpse,
slowly surrendering to aching death.

The Goats Of Shravanabelagola

2009-06-13T11:41:00.010+05:30

I fell in love with Raghu
on my way to Shravanabelagola.
Never before had this particular name,
aroused in me any special interest or charm.
None of my childhood fantasies too
had this name or even if they had,
I don't think I would have much appreciated the same.

The vehicle was full of activities.The kids' shouts of joy,excitement,and their loud laughter when somebody cracked jokes. But slowly, as the time ran by ,a pack of silence surged into the vehicle.All of a sudden the smiles of all the travellers turned into a pale dull grin.All eyes started wandering far out of the window,searching for something.Of course ''t was a tiring journey and kids had started leaning and stretching due to hunger.The watches showed half past eleven and still breaking the fast was like a mirage.Then on,the journey seemed like a dream.We had no idea where we were driving off to...If we would find our destination.

All the weary travellers wished for a delicious meal.Throats were passivated every now and then with dead water filled in shrunken plastic jars.Felt like nauseating.What to say of kids when we,the elders,'t self were totally depressed at the symphony of the burning hungry stomachs.
"Why did you tour to this place ,this horrible waste land,without a single tea shop amma?",my little boy asked with tired eyes and broken pale lips.
We were all surprised at the understanding and patient behaviour of the otherwise demon like boys and the restless girl.Finally when the vehicle ran into a place which looked like a town,all hearts were delighted,eyes brightened and thoughts relieved.
And when the name board of a hotel played trumpet in our yearning hearts,somebody's malignancy suggested..."seems finally we have reached a place with a lot of hotels.we have already waited for so long..why cant we for a couple of minutes more?looks like a better one is ahead..."
No sooner did the words echoed into the air than the vehicle leapt forward.
But very soon the souls inside looked sapped off their lives as the Jeep found itself moving through a deserted land,with clouds of dry sand raising up like fog.Our vision blurred due to the heaving smoke of sand and the aching bear hug of hunger.

The statue of Gomadeswara became visible even at a distance.We looked painfully at the goats munching dry grass.'Even a sprig of dry grass would do ',I murmured into somebody's ears.For the first time in my life I was feeling jealous of those scanty bearded goats with malecious look. How teasingly they were bleating at us!No,I don't think we could move a step ahead without having our food and what to say of climbing hundreds of steps up to the temple..!
There came then a loud roar... A HOTEL...At last...all eyes shined in expectation.The broken,swinging tin board had, HOTEL RAGHU,inscribed on it in yellow letters.
The mild chillness that the name created in me is just beyond words...an unexplainable and undefinable something.I ran towards the hotel with tired legs,hopeful eyes and a thudding heart.When one fall in love there is a tendency to forget and forgive all the flaws and faults of our dear love.So did I.Neither the stinking tables covered with flies nor the slimy floors could least annihilate my love for Raghu.Looking back,I still savour and relish the glue like Upuma and dead tea it served me so lovingly...so sympathetically.

whatever you think,I am in love with Raghu and never in my life can I forget him,at least those yellow letters inscribed on the black tin board.Like one can never forget one's first love,I too love to keep those memories covered in my heart,so close to my thoughts, and pamper them in my solitary moments.

Fragrant Dream ( my thoughts penned down 13 years ago )

2009-06-04T20:54:00.008+05:30

Anamika,
My dream child,
Unborn daughter,
when the trickling drops of tears
makes ripples in my heaving heart
I hear you lisp...
"Mother,take me out of this cover,
for I want to taste this life to the lees."
But,pardon me my child
Too small is this world
for you to be born my darling...
Oft I did wish to take you out.
But now,a threat of rain stops me,
nightmare of the darkness warns me,
these thorns of life hurts me.
Why awaken those sleeping thoughts,
just to be nipped before they bloom?
Let you be my beautiful dream,
an evidence to my existence...
Let you sleep silently, swaddled,
forever in my heart.

My Big B

2009-05-30T23:54:00.010+05:30

When we were, children my brothers used to take care of me like a crystal ware.Yes, so easily breakable,soft hearted girl was I.I was vulnerable to harsh and teasing words and my eyes would easily flood unknowingly covering my vision,at a simple frown of any one and everyone.
My eldest brother was more of a father to me.He used to dress me up like a doll.While applying talcum powder on my pale face,he would hold my chin in his left arm and would ask me to hold fast my lips.He loved combing my hair straight after bath and pressing my clothes.He was very particular in seeing that there isn't a wrinkle on my spotless white shirt and shiny bright navyblue pinafore. He couldn't afford to see a single spot of stain on my stockings and would always polish my shoes to sparkle black against the golden sun rays.It was my ettan who taught me to wear a neck tie and to tell the time on clock.
It was he who used to take me to school and back.We used to go walking,my brother clutching my hand tight so that I don't tip over stamping on stones or twigs.He collected fallen tamarind and mangoes for me on our way and told me a lot of stories.Once he even mischievously fooled me by making me rub a bamboo hide for hours on my tender arms telling that I would smell of sandal!He was the one who taught me on how to deal with strangers.Some of those memories bring in a mysterious smile on my face today.Once he had told me "mole,if someone approaches you asking your details just tell them that you are SI Gopakumar's sister...!"
(where and how this name SI Gopakumar came from is still unknown both to my ettan and me !).But today I sense in those words ,the anxiety of a big brother ,his thoughts and worries over his meek and fragile little sister...that lean girl with a pale face,and wide,curious eyes on her shrunken face.
He always had a lot of surprises in store, for me,either in the form of a new route explored by him or in the form of a bus journey from school back to home.After helping me from the bus, he gave me another surprise by buying me banana shake from vasuettan's shop. In the beginning of new academic year he used to cover all my books neatly labelling them with my name written over them so beautifully.
Now recollecting the past, I once again turn to that 6 year old lean little creature with wide eyes,wearing a petticoat and squatting with an open mouth near my big B,watching him cover those books.Today while covering books for my neice, a nostalgic smile flashed through my eyes.I heard the little me in her lisping.."paste me a nice name slip please...not this one..the other will do..."

To Krishna,My Love

2009-05-14T11:59:00.009+05:30

Somewhere in those dark woods,
tending the flowers,waiting for the divine flute,
stood I, searching for my lost heart,
closing my eyes as if in a deep trance.

There, I could see a stream of passion
flowing towards the thoughts of my Krishna.
My pace throbbing to follow the path He tread
Trying to sparkle His glimpse in me.

Tumbled I, blinded by the dense darkness,
when,an unseen hand reached out for me,
and with a gentle fragrant flower-touch,
wiped off all the stain of sorrows.

Then ,I could hear melodies in surging silence,
leaving gentle ripples in my heaving heart.
(two little white doves flapping their soft wings
flew towards the shores of love unseen...)

A voice within softly whispered,
"here's the feel your heart had longed for
here's the sight your eyes had sought
here's the music your ears had yearned"

My mind, filled with the bliss of Lords lotus-feet
bounced in the waves of joyous cyclone...
to that music of sacred flute,
unto the ecstasy of a tranquil moment.

Slowly,like a mirage,the music of the flute faded..
I felt so aware of my creeping loneliness
that was the beginning of the destined hour,
when I turned a poet for My Lord.

Outcast

2009-05-12T22:36:00.004+05:30

Me,
A broken-stringed violin
Playing out of tune
The aching ragas of life
To the dying notes of love.
Me,
A kite let loose
Detached from the humans
Floating aimlessly
Entangled among the branches
Trying to rescue myself
But
Tearing the delicate skin,
Bleeding...
Me,
A beard-grass
As light as a dream
Moving about in the wind
Caught upon the thorns
Nipped unsympathetically
Robbing the smiles.
Me ,
The rain cloud
I can no more hold the drops
I may shower
So heavy
The rain of pebbles
Upon you
Upon the earth
Just to die down
Quenching your thirst.

On Fragrance

2009-04-22T22:34:00.013+05:30

Is there anybody who doesn’t love and enjoy fragrance? I too do, but the stranger side is I hate perfumes.One of my intimate male friends with whom I always share my so called insane thoughts had once commented,”Joe, I haven’t come across so feminine and so romantic a lady like you who hate perfumes!” true…I hate them for they mar the identity of a person. I can enjoy the sweet scent of earth after summer rain, the seducing smell of the blossoms in my garden, roses and jasmine, but not of perfumes. The mild sweet smell of sweating kids instills maternal affection in me. So I always hug my kids keeping them close to my heart enjoying the fragrance of their sweating head.

I always love associating those close to me with their unique smell.This gives me a feeling that they are always around me very alive and so near.Tears roll down when the smell of sandal paste and ashes of dried camphor awakens me.For it always fills in me the thoughts of my loving grandma. The very smell takes me 21 years behind and I see my grandma stooping into her room in the western wing, after the elaborate bath. I feel me sitting besides her watching her smear the ashes of camphor (over her forehead, lower arms and chest) with the three fingers.Closing my eyes I lean my cheeks over her cool saggy bust and listen to her singing…
" ഇത്തിരി പൂവേ ചുവന്നപൂവേ...
ഇത്രനാളെങ്ങു നീ പോയി പൂവേ...
മണ്ണിനടിയില്‍ ഒളിച്ചിരുന്നോ...."
Yes I feel the freshness of spotless white mundu smelling of dry starch and 501bar soap. I see her childish toothless smile, my Ammamma,who used to sell the tidbits of paper and give me a rupee or two to buy lozengers.

My mother always smelt of fresh earth .And the very smell always filled in me the chillness of selfless love and affection. Sometimes my mother smelt of sesame or medicated oil which made me feel the softness of her slippery skin. The smell now takes me years back, I see myself a small girl hugging her so tight ,sinking my head in between her neck and long wet hair listening to her fairy tales.(unfortunately she could never complete those tales at a stretch as I would have fallen asleep somewhere in the middle).

I remember my father knocking the door with carry bags on both the hands on his salary day.(The red alphabets on those bags read ‘triveni’).I always loved watching him display the provisions he had bought,on the dining table. The air then smelt of dry hey in the field after reaps. He was very particular that he himself undo the things and fill those in the empty bottles.By the time he finishes with the task he would sweat cuticura…Passing years brought in changes everywhere.., but not in my father. Still on the pension day he knocks the door with carry bags on both the hands (the alphabets on them still reads ‘triveni’).While rushing behind my kids, my eyes get struck on the same old orange tin of cuticura talc displayed along with the provisions…During summer when jackfruits were in plenty my father used to make a sweet thick gravy, boiling jackfruit along with jaggerry. This paste was later mixed with rice powder to make ‘chakkayda’, (covering it with bay leaves and steaming them), or unniyappam.Then my father used to sweat jackfruit and jaggery.

Later when I met my love, I was so happy that I’m blessed with someone who doesn’t use perfumes. But later on when he too got into the habit of spraying perfumes over his body, I found my aversion for perfumes taking me away from him. (the advts of that brand he uses say it would attract all women towards him…but not his woman!)I simply believe that he has lost his uniqueness as there are a whole lot smelling the same…I am in fit..!And I even shout at him like anything if I see he sprays the perfume on my kids. For me perfumes kill the identity of a person. What do you feel?

Today at the supermarket the sales girls and boys hang around me saying,”M’am why do you stick on to the old fragrance of cuticura talc? See this one has a sweet smell. Moreover the company gives a buy one get one free offer too”.I just grin at them impishly and slip out without giving ears to their teasing whispers. What should I tell them …or rather how will I convince them that the cuticura talc isn’t just a talc for me.., but my Childhood..?

Down The Memory Lane

2009-03-28T20:22:00.008+05:30

During those days when the school closed for summer vacations,my mother used to get us old English,Hindi and Malayalam readers,for the next academic year.My father used to see that we memorize all the poems in those books by the end of may.Not courageous enough to face the burning eyes of my father ,I always memorized those giving them the tunes of popular film songs then in vogue.But kunhettan always carefully forgot his instructions and got lost in games and mischief.I remember that our Amma had to intervene every now and then between father and kunhettan during the day of recital.On that day my father used to sit in an easy chair in the courtyard looking straight into our eyes above his glasses.Kunhettan and I would stand in front of him tying our hands behind,sweating,with a thudding heart.We could then sense the impish grin of our matured big B behind us whispering"I'd had enough of this,now it's your turn."But I'm thankful to my father that most of the poems memorized thus are lingering on my tongue even today..
(കാണെ കാണെ വയസ്സാവുന്നു
മക്കള്‍ക്കെല്ലാമെന്നാലമ്മേ ...
വീണകമ്പികള്‍ മീട്ടുകയല്ലീ
നവതാരുണ്യം നിന്തിരുവുടലില്‍ ,
ഇന്നലെയിവിടെ കുഞ്ഞിക്കാലടി
അടയാളത്താല്‍ പൂക്കളമെഴുതി,
ഇന്നവര്‍ വാഴ്വിന്‍ വന്‍ ചുമടേറ്റി
നടന്നീടുന്നു പാഴ്ച്ചൂവടൂന്നി....)

Though my father was always busy with his school and teachers union activities and spent only a few hours at home,we have learned more than any other children from his ways and deeds.My father worked passionately for his beliefs and well being of fellow humans, regardless of the curses and rewards he received.His soft speech and pleasant look silently taught me the truth that we should make others listen us not by raising our pitch above theirs,but by choosing proper words and modulating the tone in the appropriate manner.Though he was always away
from home,his simple gesture made us feel his loving presence in and around us and our home.
He was always concerned over our studies and continually reminded us that education is the only wealth he has to pass on to us.He was very adamant in his opinion that neither will he "buy"us education nor a career using money,power or influence.We were given all freedom to choose our course of study .I feel so happy that the three of us had taken his words in the right spirit and may be his selfless activities and prayers gave us the strength to face all odes in life and reach heights of glory.Dear father hats off to you...
Summer vacations were also a time for boosting our reading habits.Amma brought us many books from her school library prior to closing.Those books included Malayalam translations of Sir ArthurConanDoyale,Agatha Cristy,BibhuthibhooshanBandhopadhyaya,stories by M.T,punathil,C.R etc.(Amma knew I had an indomitable passion for the novels of C.R)
Once reading Bibhoothibhushan's Patherpanchali,we decided to play "vanabhojanam".Our playmates in the neighbouring house were also invited.My father posted four stumps on the ground and thatched them with coconut leaves for us.The four of us cooked and served our food inside this palace of ours.Another stuff that we got from the book was the mouth watering delicacy of raw,sour mangoes mixed with coconut oil,salt and chilly powder.Most of the times when amma took her afternoon nap we tiptoed stealthily into the kitchen.Kunhettan prepared the delicious dish while I was made to keep watch and warn of the untimely intruders,standing at the doorway.
Today while making my students read the screenplay of Patherpanchali,all those childhood fancies flash through my mind creating a panorama of visuals in my ever romantic heart.Upon God,dear teens..you are missing a world,whispers then somebody within.

Games at twilight

2009-03-22T17:32:00.011+05:30

When we were children my brothers and i used to perform plays.The old cracking cot in my parents' room was always destined to be the stage for the play.when characters were more than three we used to invite our friends in the nighbouring house too.Those friends ,who were otherwise forced to be the silent spectators,were always instructed before hand by my brothers ,to applause every now and then when they appeared on the stage.The stories usually selected for the performance were either from the extended reading material of malayalam reader or constructed by my brothers themselves.Most of those stories in the book were of kings or animals and those created by my brothers were of super humans.
The roles assigned to each one were obviously according to the seniority of ages and so the eldest always became the hero and kunhettan, the next elder,antihero.(unfortunately any of those stories didnt have a heroine and i was destined to be a courtier or a lady in waiting)In animal stories they always preferred to be a tiger or a lion or any other clever and strong ones whereas roles of monkey, donkey and other weak animals were left to my neighbours and me.
In course of time my ettan who is 8 years senior to me,realized the universal truth that he had grown far enough for such silly games and slowly withdrew from these childhood fantacies to a world of adult glory.But the four of us ,myself. kunhettan and my neighbours,went ahead with our pranks and shows.
When we were alone at home,my brother and I enjoyed conducting orchestra .kunhettan ,just a couple of years elder to me is a good singer and so always lead this troupe of two.The empty dalda containers in which Amma kept mustard and Channa,glass tumblers filled with water of various levels,spoons etc were the instruments that accompanied the concert.I remember my brother had a liking for certain songs like "swapnangale veenurangu....." and "manaykkale thathe..." so that he sang them repeatedly.Whenever he got tired of singing and playing tabala on the tin of fried pappads,I contributed fillers singing either "aa rathri manhu poyi..." or "ashtami rohini nalil..."hearing which the eldest used to tease me affectionately.He would be after his daily exercises then,oiling his body in front of the mirror, lost in his own thoughts and with a pleasing smile on his face.
Another game that we played was a grocery shop.We made common balance using twigs ,strings and coconut shells.Stones of various sizes and shapes weighed grains and gram.Both of us loved to be the shopkeeper for the thrill of weighing them.but being the youngest,I always remained a customer.
But like a dream that fades away with the startling wake,...the stage,the shows,the king and his retinue,those animals,and the concert suddenly faded out from our lives(but not from our memories...I'm sure) with the wink of an eye.That wrecked old cot remained in a shabby corner of our house until one day I asked the carpenter to mend it for my newly built home.Now whenever my brothers' kids came home to be with their only paternal aunt,my daughter took them to her room for their private pranks.The same old cot is now happy, to once again experience the thudding steps of those little dancers and readily expresses it's happiness in that old creaking voice.History repeating.I mused.Couldn't help an aching smile .My astonished little boy looks at my face and asks,"Amma,are you crazy to smile like this for no reason?!"In reply I could only wink at him mischieviously.

To A Friend,Unknown,Unseen,Unheard..yet my own

2009-02-12T16:59:00.008+05:30

I Still remember the day when i stood staring at that narrow,dark corridor... left all alone in the arms of fate.
I was not able to adjust my life there.Just back from among a howling mob,the solitude of the place pricked me like arrows.
I felt so heavy inside,as if a huge rock is being placed over my heart.The dreamy lunatic in me then decided to try to find solace in the web world where they said millions of wellwishers are waiting to be my friend.

That was the strangeness in the name of the person requested ,
that i felt like adding him as a friend.

I have already been aware of the fact that it's very difficult to get a genuine friend this way;
not to talk about somebody in the opposite sex.Usually all relations began in a hi;then to dear sis, then daa yet again dee and finaly peeping into one's privacies,,,
Once we believe and open us out we are done.then comes a series of tensed moments... pressure rising up...no chance to find a way out...
I have heard enough of such stories from many a friends near and far.Truly repulsive folk ,i'll call them.
Decided...No i'm not the one... to be such a tech-prey.

So in the beginning I even suspected the genuinity of this newly found friend.Is this one a male ore a female?
The name sounded feminine ,yet the profile read male.I call it a blessing to get him as a friend
from a place where we find cowards incognito, with fake names
and a thick mask over their real self.SlowlyI was taken by the care and genuinity he showed towards our friendship.I cherished his mails for its uniqueness,
as not even a simple doubt was left unanswered and justified.He had a different perspective unlike others, for anything and everything that we discussed..let the matter be trivial or serious,
he saw them equally important.he never let my writings unnoticed and comented and critisized me thus helping me to improve my language and style.
His words never annoyed me but made me more conscious in choosing matters to write about and respond to.His responces served as a support to my weary words...

Certain evenings i went out for a walk to ease my stormy thoughts.I always loved walking all alone in the deepening twilight beside the hillock listening to the voices around.
At times i felt that i am so lonely in this vast world.The vastness of my solitude extended upto the vastness of eternity.It was during such a walk that I met those wide bashful smile flashing past my eyes.He was so tall to be left unnoticed,yet I couldnt feel the hight.I noticed nothing except the wide reflective eyes in that pale, grave yet naughty face .The smile was so captivating that anyone who watches it, will never fail to give an answering smile.

Then the coming evenings I went out for a walk just expecting that wide bashful smile...And very soon I found myself becoming so curious about this person...
'Ts three months since we got acquinted.yet we have never felt like stopping for each other to talk.He wrote"better that we dont stop to talk, for we will never know where to stop..."

We know that it is fate that brought us together from somewhere among the clouds.maybe ,just to show the world what friends are for.To say that friendship is devoid of sex ,language
and religion .Years to come seems exciting and thrilling with such a wonderful lively friend..and years behind says it was not wasted as I have found a true friend.Now I pray that this bond remain for ever.quoting his words...
" let's speak without egos'
let's love witout intentions,
let's care without expectations,
let's pray without selfishness...

and that's what friends are for...

Now dears...I've been going on speaking about him..dont you want to see him?just look beside me..You will see him so close to me with that wide bashful smile of his..I hear the notes of his bansuri playing in my heart,can you?

MATERNITY

2009-01-28T21:01:00.005+05:30

Look,on a wretched shed is a hunched shadow
exhibiting her incessent affection
silent,uponthe maternal bliss
eyes half closed to the assonance of grief.
Sucking her dry stinking breast
and crying hungrily for a drop of life
expecting a windfall in all despair;
Moans of a mother,"she 's my daughter".
Dumb stands she in magnificient sadness
expectent of the power of a hymn.
then the boon of God showered upon her timeless will
to leap up in her heart of motherhood
I,who have been the silent witness
overwhelmed by the glory of human heart
saw in her the ray of divine spirit
and let myself delight in God's embrace.
The fragrant peace of mystic world
is now sinking my desolate dreams.
Now see my strings are playing soft
beyond the dismal world of sin.Thank you lady,
your maternal love immaculate,
your captivating grace,
touches my heart,reminding,
I am a woman,I am a mother,
who dares the misery of the world,
and is moderate in everything.

I Am A Million Indians

2008-12-22T11:25:00.000+05:30

The breeze from Mumbai smelt of warm blood.
It said, it's not that easy to kill a human.
Though, you ,with those double barrels aim him,
He is not done.
He is another me,with an eternal soul.
Thousands of us will arise from that single drop
thus making it countless warriors against the evil.
killing me is not a game either
where, you hold your breath and
like cowards,hide, moving stealthly
with a velvet tread.
just a stab of knife too will not do it.
for from every wound you make
arises ,a thousand new hopes.
remember,it's not that easy to kill me,
for i am a million,million Indians.

Woes of a BanyanTree

2008-11-02T11:39:00.006+05:30

Being a banyan is sometimes a curse
If you are to be grown in a court,
(to witness the pangs of humansouls)
infront of 1st class magistrate court iv.

Throbs of mothers reverberating,
sighs of wives heaving,
cries of daughters echoing
Humans wailing all around.

Polite voices interrupting
"Ma'm, how'll you respond if
you are interrogated
of recognizing the accused?"

"Was it his carelessness?
was he a fierce one?
do you think..er..afterall,if
it's of any use getting him punished?"

"Come on..past is past.
Now ,repeat after me..
-No,i dont recognize him,
(or much better)it's not he.."

Then the usual words,
the court is adjurned.
I looked around..no,these are not
the final words,my leaves whispered.

Yes,dont you see him watching?
curses showering down.
"You are accused of irrevocably destroying
shattered human hearts."

I plead to those humans
show mercy upon me.,if
not to this whole world,
to my yellowing leaves atleast.

VOCATION (This poem was published in Native Petels,an anthology of Indian poems ,by the Poetry Garden Publication)

2008-08-16T19:48:00.006+05:30

Fragrance of dry water lilies
Spread around the wretched waiting shed,
There were three in the beginning
Then two,now one on the scene.
(Have I missed the count ,watching the
stray dogs and bitches?)

Adorned in' her' best
starched ,scarlet cotton saree,
(The jasmine flowers had been fading fast)
Her eyes were hollows of agony
But the wrinkled face skin was hidden
Under thick cheap cosmetics!

In glittering imitation jewellery her anklet
tingled,bangles tickling
at the slightest sway of her body
invitingly summonned her saviour.
A shaggy dark-mouthed wretch
Stretched his ugly hand towards her.
(In between fingers he tucked some moist currencies)

A sarcastic smile twirled her face
I saw lightning in her eyes,
Lips curling in a simple frown
Cursing her maker.
Another in a kakhi pantaloon entered.
He nodded with a grin,twisted his lips.

The breeze smelt betel leaves and tobacco stentch.
The fragrance of jasmine lingered in the air.
In half protest the dancing body vanished
into some darkness around the corner.
An ugly hunchman stayed behind waiting.

The scene of action the shabby corner of the station.
It witnessed them suck blood out of her mouth
and the fading fragrance of jasmine.

A lump of pain entangled my throat,
Tears blurred my vision.
'It's never too late to mend ',but
Why Am I still asleep?

EXAMINATION(A poem which won an international recognition)

2008-07-22T17:54:00.006+05:30

Their troubled eyes...
Peering into the inner blacks,
to find the unexplored ways of problems
Feverish minds staring at their time machines,
trying to hold seconds in their eyes.
A smile blooms if the road in front is clear
But if the path is misty,
I see those eyes growing smaller
Looks floating onto the almighty above.
Thoughts wandering away from the world
Then started at the ringing of the bells
Their frowning faces turning
Looks tangled ,in each others eyes
Slowly pulling oneself up the seat
Sighing,making the way out,
Hesitant minds asking themselves,
Which is the right path..?
Left,or Right..?

How Daughters Are Born...

2008-07-10T21:05:00.006+05:30

Memories stared at me with compassion
Stroking their velvet feathers over my eyes
Kissing my wet lashes dry and,
comforting my grieving heart.
My eyelids swollen and heavy
from the late weeping
had longed for this relief
eversince i saw her.
Sleep had long back left visiting me
and i quietly rolling on my bed
cursed this life; heartless world,
wondering lest my sigh should hinder
the little one's sleep.
"PARENTS!BIRTHDATE! I knew not what"
shouted she, over her shoulders
staring at the blank columns of her resume.
Shuddering, I pulled my looks away from her burning eyes.
"Who am I?She moaned,
Dont you see that Iam a human?"
Then with a groan,tore it off,the bits
fluttering behind her like autumn leaves.
Iwatched her stoop ahead,steps heavy.
Unsaid words grew heavier within me.
A nameless pain trickled down my cheeks.
I whispered...
Daughter,
A life full of care fringed with Love
Silent prayers braided with Hope and,
a Heart full of Thoughts is all to offer you
to comfort your bleeding heart.

Off to School..........

2008-07-03T13:49:00.003+05:30

9am doesn't mean much to many.
when the clock strikes nine....
tucking in the saree pleats
pulling the pallu over the bust
watching one's profile on the mirror;
'well, looking good',
content at the heart;and then,
a simple smile of satisfaction.
Oncemore brushing the coloured hair
wiping off the talcum powder
over the sweating forehead with
a neatly pressed,perfumed hanky.
then hanging the days burden
over the shoulders
(a moment more left for
another quick glance)
rushing out.........
have I left something behind?
As usual Amma calling out
with warm mid-day meals.Then
making it to the bus station.
Ready to be sandwitched?"No,not I!"
shouting for an auto,and
getting packed inside with other three humans.
Yea!I've made it there by 9.30!
smiling off His looks over the glasses,
mumbling within,'I'm on time,amn't I sir?'
sighing...........
Yet another foot steps ascending..?
Yes,9am does matter atleast to some.

The Moonshine..

2008-04-16T13:07:00.003+05:30

My mother had always told about my father's flashing smile at the news of my birth.And the very thoughts had always brought overwhelming emotions into my heart too.That was also a very hot summer noon like now,she had told,the fifteeth of may 1972.My birth was a matter of happiness to all except to my then 2year old brother.And he readily expressed his dislike by biting hard the vaccinated arm of his 5 days old sister.My cries could have brought the whole of hospital building down to the ground ;and a smile of victory registered in his naughty face,as per the word of my mother.
Thus she delivered me to a world of competitiöns and challenges and my elder brothers marked the beginning of a series of competitions yet to come.It was an era when anybody could blindly comment that being a woman is a curse.But i was born to a bold lady of an ardent revolutionary who believed women are to share equal rights with men.
When did i acquire my mothertongue? My mother can hardly remember it.;but one thing is sure ;like any other infant,i too might have began by addressing the clever crow.With passing years ,I don't think that my parents could have appreciated my stages of growth(like they enjoy and appreciate my siblings growth now)in their struggle to make both ends meet.Facing the hard realities of life,they were training the three buds to blossom on their own,become self sufficient and stand up to the challenges of life.
Why did my grandmother leave for my uncle's house soon after my birth?My mother has a satisfactory answer for that too.."i am not her only child you know..She had equal responsibilities to take care of their children too!"
Thus unlike my brothers I was admitted to a convent school since the angels there promised to take care of me till somebody came to take me back home at the end of the day.
The feeling of lonelyness thus started creeping up at my early age itself.Yes..I've been in love with solitude then onwards...

Aching April

2008-04-12T21:48:00.000+05:30

Love do aches at times,
hospitalities become unbearable
love-notes pestering,
sobs drying up unheard
sticking to my dry throat.
Summer showers whisper to my heart,
reminding,
my love for you've always
laid dorment in me in your absence.
But love do aches at times..
Years of longing,lust,hope and fear,
passing away painfully past my eyes.
My love,
deep and true
swaddle herself ,
sinking into the unknown realms of
unhappiness.
Think me your love
for I gave you myself.
And when i love thee, my heart get thrilled, not in rapures, but in
pain of passion.
I am not just a love but an aching humansoul.

Survival of the fittest

2008-03-22T10:11:00.000+05:30

Once a Cat met a Mouse..
The later asked,
"cant we be friends?"
The former smiled maliciously,
and he answered,
"good friends do quarrel,so we shall make the best pair ever"
Then they smiled at eachother.
Before parting the Cat invited the Mouse for a dinner.
And then,on that auspicious day,he dined on his elegant Guest.

Happy New Year

2008-01-01T21:44:00.000+05:30

I was dreaming
I had been dreaming throughout the night
The clock chimed loudly
It showed 5 am
My watch too showed the same
Rubbing my sleepy eyes ,i sat up on my bed
I gave a blank look at Him beside me
We are still alive,i wondered
The poison that dried our throats last night hadnt shown any signs of seducing us!
I couldnt believe..
But my heart is still heavy with the reminiscence of the nightmare.
You and me ,lying facing each other,relishing the sweetness of bitter poison..
Our death note..
Helpless smiles..
Blood forming strange designs in and around us..
Let cowards die..
But not You and Me..
Let's be alive again to meet at our favourite place.

Night

2007-12-07T23:28:00.001+05:30

Tranquil..
serene..
Dripping stars..
Smiling moon
Showering shine..
Fragrant breeze..
Kissing my thoughts..
Wishing a bright new hope.

Mother

2007-11-18T22:26:00.001+05:30

Symbol of patience
The ocean of love
broken strings
yet playing the tune
tears covered in the wrinkled smile
wishing only the best
even when we burst out and fly..
Mother..
Hail to thee

Krishna

2007-10-08T23:22:00.000+05:30

My sorrows trickle down His cheeks when i weep..
My joys overflow His flute when i smile..