Saturday, December 15, 2007

Presence


I woke up at midnight
From a scary dream,
Trembling with fear,
Sweating and panting.

Even, the feeble voices outside
Echoed in my heart
As the foot sounds of cruel men
Breaking open my door.

Alone in my room,

I looked for help
In the dim light of bed lamp,
My own shadow frightened me.

I took the phone, and
Called my friend,
Miles away, “Don’t be silly,
Pray and try to sleep”, he said.

My heart was not pacified
I felt as left alone
I looked for my rosary, and
Found it on a small book.

I took the rosary, kissed it
And slowly opened the book
My friend was there in the book,
Smiling at me !

I put it on the table, opened
I felt relieved of all fears
Then, peacefully slept till dawn,

With rosary in my hand.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

The one who seeks faces

( This is a story originally written by me in Malayalam and translated to English by my friend, whom I respect from the bottom of my heart. So, this story is for u, my friend..)
Is the city in a deep slumber? Or, like me, is it chasing the sleep that is eluding it? How can this city sleep when its heart is still aching and the embers of anguish, tribulations, and miseries of the day continue to burn? How can a city where the women who sell their body to feed their children are being used, abused, and exploited are forced to coexist with those heartless pimps, cruel thugs and corrupt cops who maltreat, manipulate and harm them sleep peacefully? It is better not to think or remember too much; ignorance is bliss! Even after living here for years, this city was always a stranger to me. I have always felt like an outsider and an intruder.

The city was always a boring and monotonous sight during the day. Humans and vehicles scurrying like ants. No one sees the faces of others. No one remembers the faces of others. The only thing one sees are hands—hands that accept, hands that give, hand that work, hands that rise and fall to the cadence of inquilab zindabads and other slogans, hands that maim and mutilate, hands that have blood on it, hands that are cut off from the body, the list goes on… I was never able to like this city that shelter myriad of faceless human beings.

There was a time when the blood was hot with revolutionary ideas, and mind was brimming with the zest, zeal, and passion to change the world; to make it better—a better place for the impoverished and helpless. It was the time when I could empathize with the oppressed and abused. It was the time when I used to hero worship revolutionaries like Che Guevara. It was a time when the things happened around me affected me. It was a time when nightmares used make my nights miserable, often startling me to wakefulness.
Sleep never was my companion. Once awake, the heaviness of the heart usually succeeded in keeping sleep at bay. I used to twist and turn restlessly in bed trying to remember the dreams that woke me up. The fact that the bloodthirsty soldiers and cruel oppressors of my dreams were faceless life forms always used to cause a lot of mental trauma. Why in the world those clod-blooded and heartless animals need a face? Soldiers don’t need a face; they only need gun wielding hands and booted legs. Similarly, the people of this metropolis also don’t need faces…

My office was my sanctum. I was always more at home in the office than at home. In the morning, there is a kind of suffocation and restlessness till I reach the office. I always tried to reach the office as fast as I could—the haste one exhibits while swallowing a bitter pill. Once inside the cabin, I never ventured out of my comfort zone; not even for lunch.

In the evening, from the office, it was always straight to the library. I used to stay there till it closed. It is a magical experience to walk between the bookshelves. While walking between the bookshelves touching the books I often felt the books had faces—faces that spoke the truth. Once you take the books from the confines of the bookshelves and browse through the pages, they will start speaking enthusiastically like good old friends. Time used to fly once I entered the library. I never felt the compulsion to leave the library. It was the impatient gestures and subtle suggestions of the librarian that always made me aware it was time to say goodbye for that day.

Once out of the library, it is a brisk walk to the room, never stopping to look around. I was afraid to look around, as there will always be some disturbing sight that will disrupt the mental peace. A slight disturbance to the mind was all that needed to make the night miserable, to keep me awake and worried. I always used to wonder why I am so sensitive, sentimental, and emotional. The bitter experiences of life, the wounds of time, and the supercilious attitude of society have failed to change me. They have failed miserably in making me tough, callous, and indifferent. Now, even after all these years, about fifty eventful ones, a change is almost impossible. No, I don’t want to change. I am what I am and trying to change it will be foolhardiness—something similar to people undergoing plastic surgery to hide their age.

Suddenly, I remembered her. I saw her when I was getting into the office—quite unexpectedly and unanticipated. While climbing the dimly lit stairs, I saw her—a tired and frail human form; leaning on the wall for support. Initially, I thought it was some projection on the wall, which I had not noticed earlier. But that was not surprising as I never noticed anything on the way to my cabin. She asked me something; or was my mind playing tricks.

"Yes?" My voice was staid and businesslike.
"I would like to see the thasildar…could you help me?"

Even though, her voice was very feeble, it still had enough traces of intimacy to sent shockwaves to the depths of my mind. It had enough power to reopen the old memories that I had locked up in the darkest and deepest corners of my mind.

"Sumangala…"
When I stood dumfounded unable continue, I saw shock on her face and disbelief in her eyes. Years vanished in an instant and I was transported back to my college days. It was our last day in college. All were busy bidding farewells with promises to meet again—promises that are rarely kept. When I told her everything, she looked at me sympathetically. I told her how much I loved her and how I felt without her. I told her all the things that I had kept inside me all these years without telling her. Once started, I couldn’t stop; it was like a downpour. In the end, when I looked at her with eagerness, all I saw was sympathy and sadness.

"I love you; I love you a lot. But more that I won’t say anything; I shouldn’t say anything." She told me.
That day I was adamant—for the very first time. "You should at least show the generosity to tell me the reason."
"No, I don’t have anything to say. I don’t have any valid reason. I don’t have the freedom to take a decision." She told me.


I didn’t ask anything further. When I walked back, I tried to imagine that I heard her sobbing. The dreams that I had kept with me all these years with the purity of the driven snow were shattered. But I didn’t feel any anger or frustration. My mind was too numb to feel anything. Later, I felt some kind of relief—as the weight of the dreams was lifted making my heart lighter. Sometimes I am like that; when I aspire for something, I just wish that somebody dissuaded me from that.

After that fateful day in college, I didn’t see her until today. I never tried to find her or see her. But seeing her and that too quite unexpectedly disturbed me. Her thoughts kept me awake for a long time—until the wee hours of the morning. When the morning alarm woke me up, I felt very tired. I made black tea and covered the top of the mug with my face—an unsuccessful attempt to enjoy the warmth to drive away the tiredness. After finishing the tea, I got ready and started for the office.
But when I reached there, it was already late. The attendance register had been sent to the office superintend. While contemplating whether to face the wrath of the superintend or to take half-day leave, I saw her again. She was coming from the thasildar’s room. She smiled and expressed her gratitude for the previous day’s favor. Thasildar had agreed to her request and the revenue recovery was put on hold for the time being. I just nodded and she went out.
I followed her till the office gate and asked,
"How are you? Is everything fine?"The lifeless smile, she had forced on her pale face earlier, with much difficulty disappeared.
Then she said, very slowly and in a very frail voice,

"I… I couldn’t forget you…I cannot forget you even now…"

I felt a wave of dizziness hitting me with great force. With much difficulty, I kept my ground and asked… "Husband?"
"I have everyone…but I couldn’t forget you… I didn’t know that I couldn’t forget you…and I don’t think that I will ever be able to forget you, however hard I try… I am unable to love or enjoy my current life. I am unable to laugh. Life has become a monotonous routine. I didn’t know that I loved you so much…I know it is too late and I know nothing can be corrected…But I don’t have anybody to tell my sorrows. I don’t know how and when I will be able to get rid of this burden…
"

Did a canary start singing in my mind’s garden? Or was it a cuckoo signaling the onset of the spring? I looked at her with joy in my heart and great expectations. I never saw the love for me in her eyes. I couldn’t find any tender emotions. The only thing I saw was the despondency and hopelessness of her predicament.

When she walked away, wiping tears with the corners of her old cotton saree, I felt like I have become very old, very fast

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Punishment

She was an illiterate ordinary woman. She used to sit near our bus stop under the banyan tree, with basketful of flowers. What is her name? I don’t know. I never asked her. Still I enjoyed a secret pleasure in watching her movements. Ohhh..I cannot type… my left arm is aching.. severe pain .. ooohh..this sling is not enough to reduce the pain of a broken elbow. But, I prefer suffering this pain to stop typing. Because, if I don’t write this now, I will never write this. So, I am ignoring the pain…

Where did I stop? Yes, I was telling about her. She was black, aged ( may be 55 or 60) and looked like a Tamilian. She smiled at every new person coming to the bus-stop, and asked “ poovvu venama ?” When she smiled, her stone laded mookkuththi also smiled. Every day, I had the duty to spend 15 minutes at the bus-stop, as my bus was not at all punctual !

This morning, when I reached the bus-stop, she was there, sitting alone. She smiled at me. I too, smiled and leisurely stood at a distance, watching her selling the flowers.

A small girl in school uniform, came to her for flower. The woman smiled at her, took a piece of ‘mullappoomaala’ in her hand, measured it with her arm, added some extra length with another lovely smile at the girl, and handed it over to her.

I watched the girl trying to fix the flower on her hair with great effort, under a beautiful hair clip. Before I could help her, the woman stretched her hands to help the girl and touched her hair affectionately, and to her dismay, the hair clip came into her hands in two pieces ! The next moment, the girl turned back, looked at the broken clip and slapped the woman with a furious face…!

I turned my face from the scene…and touched my cheeks with fingers… my fingers burnt..! My heart, too..

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Independence through unity..

A magical blend of wonderful scenic beauties of nature ! A perfect rainbow on the blue sky which is decorated with white clouds.. the mighty sea .. the naughty waves playing on the shore.. the rocks and the green palm trees behind them.. ! When they are together in a frame, the picture has got a soul in it. Shall we stand together, as a perfect blend of all human values, and give a soul to our India?

Monday, July 16, 2007

Little Maria learnt not to cry in a crisis

I dedicate this post to all little Marias of this world. It is about a cute little girl who is very close to my heart. Her name is Maria. Would u like to know more about her? If yes, please hear me...

It was a dark day of heavy downpour. Meadows and roads were flooded with water and the birds in the trees shivered under their wet feathers. The wicked wind was playing its naughtiest tricks to pull down the poor trees. He broke the window panes of small houses and the rain danced on their tin roofs.

Little Maria was coming back home from school. Drenched in rain, she ran, hugging the school bag. She was alone in the road. The wicked wind saw her and, for a better amusement, rushed to her. He pulled her clothes and danced around her whistling in a fierce voice. She fell on the muddy road. The cruel wind laughed and danced seeing her struggling to get up with the bag. Little Maria trembled with fear. She looked around. There was nobody to help her. She cried aloud and ran as fast as she could. The wind and rain laughed and chased her enjoying her helpless cries.
Suddenly, she heard a voice from behind. It was a bullock cart. The cart stopped near her and a face from inside asked her," May I help you, dear?" Even without thinking about an answer, she jumped into the cart and the cart moved. In the cart, she saw an old man. He smiled at her with kindness. she too smiled. A smile of relief..! The cart moved ahead and where the road divided into two, the old man asked her," Which is your way, dear?" She pointed to the right. The old man became gloomy and he slowly said to her, " Sorry, my child. I should go in the way to the left." Little Maria was shocked. She couldnt keep back her tears. There was storm outside. The wicked wind and the rain were waiting outside for another cruel game.

She wiped her tears, said thanks to the old man and stepped out of the cart.
Then she slowly walked along the road with firm steps, against the wind, drenched in rain...!!

Thursday, July 5, 2007



Friendship


Night came..Light faded to darkness..


My eyes are not sharp enough to pierce the darkness and see my friend sitting beside me…


I cannot see him… but it doesn’t mean, he is away from me…..!!!!!!!!


There is a mighty mist of darkness in between us…


Still…..…I feel his presence…

Alone.. In the Crowd..

Alone…In the crowd....

When I was a small girl, my ambition was to be a good girl and to win the hearts of all. I felt proud of myself, when my parents proudly presented me before their friends.

In my adolescence, I always pretended to be very serious to protect myself from all distractions. I behaved as a grown up matured one. Everybody appreciated my maturity ..!

When I grew up to a young girl, I restricted my thoughts to suit the financial and social back ground of my family. I honestly tried to realize my limitations.

When I became a wife, I tried to be a good wife for him who gave me a life..

Then I became a mother. Motherhood taught me more about love and sacrifices..

In my career, whenever more and more tough assignments were given to me, I took them as a challenge. When I felt totally tired after a day’s work, I enjoyed that fatigue.

Now, shall I look back to my life? Just to see.. How does it look like..

Hey…!!! I can’t see myself anywhere there……!!!!!!!!!!!

Saturday, June 30, 2007

Narrow Escape.. or a Miracle?


Today.. I had a narrow escape from the clutches of death..!


I was about to pass a Railway level cross. The moment I started crossing, I received a call on my mobile phone. As a reflex action, I took the call. It was from my office, regarding some urgent matters. Answering the call, I walked.. very slowly..as in a sleep walk.. crossing the tracks.. absent minded... without looking at the sides. I crossed the railway tracks. The next moment I heard the train passing through the level cross just behind me !

I shivered for a moment, from top to bottom....!!!

I know, I was saved for those who love me, for those who need me, and for those who think of me and pray for me... How can I express my gratitude? To HIM.. What should I say? HE can read even my most secret thoughts..HE is beside me, even when I am sleeping.. HE is in me.. What should I say to him..? I feel, HE wants me to be here .. Yes.. I am here.. For YOU..


Thursday, June 28, 2007

For my friend.. with love...

Till the moment I heard your voice for the first time,
Tears were filled in my heart for you..
When I spoke to you, I felt, my heart gone empty..!
Whispered my heart, ' the real winner..!'

Your wounds were deep and open..but
You never cursed this world..!
You still loved it, hugged it, and
You owned it, at last..!

Kneel before him, the loser fate..!
Never look at his face again..
Now my friend is smiling at you,
Not a smile of triumph..

But,

A soft smile of NOBLE REVENGE..!!



Wednesday, June 13, 2007

COIN WITH ONE SIDE !!??

It is raining here..
I love the enchanting music of rain..
I love the cool wind embracing me..

But,
I am scared of thunders n lightnings..
I am scared of huge black clouds in the sky..

Is there any place, where
there is rain, but
No huge black clouds
No thunders n lightnings..????!

Tell me please, if u know,
About the hills
Which do not have valleys..!!!
And also about the coin having only one side....!!!

Saturday, June 2, 2007

Jaalakam thurannappol..


I am opening this window...


To hug the cool wind which knocked at my window, the whole night..
To see the small birds chirped outside my window to wake me up..
To feel the fragrance of wild flowers reaching from the hill sides..


But..
Now, I am confused.. really confused..!


No cool wind outside ! ... only the sighs of those who lost their dreams..
No birds singing outside ! only the low weeping noices from half burnt houses..
No fragrance outside ! only the suffocating smell of explosives..


Wait.. wait.. for a moment..
Let me see my face in the mirror..
Just to see whether still I have a face to cry for them...!!

കുറച്ചു ദിവസമായി, പനിയും മൂക്കൊലിപ്പും, ചുമയുമൊക്കെ തുടങ്ങീട്ട്. മരുന്നു കഴിക്കുന്നുണ്ട്. അങ്ങു തീർത്തു മാറുന്നില്ല.സാവകാശം മാറട്ടെ, അല്ലേ....