Two years ago was my 25th birthday and it proved a singular milestone that offered to a lost traveler, a chance to once more feel the joy of living...I don't know what was different with me then and today...maybe I have grown in the knowledge of who I am and what this birth means to me, or maybe not. I remember of being content then with all I had to do to get to that point, and thus wrote that post...I was ready to take my life in my hands, though I knew not what I wanted from it. Today is another story, the past is a distant blur, the present an insignificant blip on the horizon, and the future stands right before my eyes unattainable yet. Every approaching birthday, these last few years has been a time for churn, change and new resolve...2003 i dug my heels in and decided to salvage my MS, 2004 i quit my first job without saving up a single penny, 2005 mustered the wits to give the UPSC a try, last September swallowed my pride and came back to the US. This time I have been lucky to have undertaken the by-now customary bday revolution quite earlier than September, but find myself dealing with the struggle of surviving 200 days before the next attempt to chart yet another course in life begins. I donot know what the intention of this post will be...is it to record for my posterity, my frame of mind at this point of time, or is it to find some clarity, which writing, more often than not, gives me.
Existence
I am appalled that several people close to me, expect wonders to happen. I think this blog gave them that idea. I can't think of anything else worthwhile, that I have done, during my time on Earth. Several things that I did, I now see as being done to give meaning to my existence at that point of time. In school, I read books to escape the confines of my introversion and my complexes. Later it was my friendships that defined my existence, and the books lay forgotten. In college, I took up drinking, hoping it would make me a man, hoping it would nullify self-questions of my adolescent manhood - such superficial stuff for me today like unsprouting facial hair, being underweight, and lack of physical courage. During Master's working at the Film School and my growing interest in movies gave the "Jeene Ki Ik Wachah". At work and lost, blogging came to the rescue, at Civil Service coaching travelling saved me, today surprisingly it is the naked need for money to satisfy a lot of my needs over the next few years that is helping me cling on. Of course it is my hope that these experiences/memories help me in future.
Flicker
Blogging used to be not just about letting my thoughts wander and capturing them in words but also about being part of a blogger community, reading my fellow bloggers, appreciating and imbibing their views and writing styles, leaving comments, etc. Nowadays I hate to wander in blogosphere. I feel a sad guilt at not doing my duty because I know how much a blogger loves to hear from a fellow blogger about his/her latest post. I am reading, M.Mukundan's Haridwaril Manikal Muzhangunnu, a superb novella of hardly 100 pages, but I can't read beyond a page at a time before my concentration wavers. It must be jealousy at play, how such wonderful yet simple writing takes shape, whether in blogging or fiction writing. I worry that with my interest in reading at such a nadir, how my thoughts and ideas and love for writing can grow beyond the frankly adolescent level, that it is now at.
Waiting
For a lot of my life, I have waited for others to give me a helping hand. More often than not, that hand never came. I have longed for friends or relatives to begin path-breaking companies, so I can go work for them, for friends to break into the entertainment industry, for my dad to push me through into a field I can succeed in...riding on other people's wings was a lazy fantasy that I nurtured stupidly for far too long. Its been some time since I have realized the initiative to better my life had to come from me, and yet I can't help thinking why things are taking so long to change for me. My dad always tells me, "If I had your talent, I wouldn't have wasted it"...and I wryly muse,"Pops, if I had your ambition..."
Smiling
I remember I used to have a perpetual warm smile, once upon a time. I have caught myself several times with a frown on my face, several times with a weak, laboured and artificial manufacture replacing that once all-powerful beacon, while a deep emptiness resides in that mysterious place somewhere inside, that once powered the lone good thing about me.
Yearning
What is the idea of home? It cant be just the four walls of my house, my parents, my people, my language, my awareness of culture, tradition and history...it must be something much deeper than all this, that has found an abode in me, that has me going back, every moment these last many years. At a family reunion few weeks back, my uncle the novelist chap, remarked, that "Perhaps Jiby, has not, unlike the rest of us, found himself melting into the American mainstream like the rest of us." My sister's reply confirmed why she will probably know me better than anyone else on earth, "Achacha, it is nothing about America that he finds uncomfortable, it is India that drives him." Those words from her mouth, had to find its place in this post...she has stood like a pillar carrying me along, speaking for me when I lost my voice. No sister of today's times ever lifted a brother from failure like she saved me...I've always wondered how the finest human beings are people who are unassuming and seem ordinary to me.
Weariness
why cant I approach every day with reinvigorated zest. Why every day begins, continues and ends in intermittent tired yawns. Going to the gym would help, I thought, but the physical energy just doesn't seep into my spirit. The brawn is beginning to show up, the brain remains clouded in a perpetual suspension of all purpose. Wonder if Yoga will help. I tried hypnotism but that's a hilarious story for another day. Took online creative writing and screenwriting courses but gave up on it midway for lack of ideas and inability to stick to class schedules. There was a time in life that I had a spring in every enthusiastic step I took. The summer of my fatigue has bade goodbye, now the winter of my discontent is past the threshold and at home, will an eternal spring with fresh spirits come knocking at my doorsteps soon?
Impatience
For several months now, I took life as coming, Week by Week, with the weekend resuscitating and rejuvenating me. Until I took the decision on the next career. Now it is becoming harder to plough by each day. Each hour brings thoughts of what will happen ahead, the thousands of hours to be furrowed ahead to get there worries me no end. I used to be the guy who others envied for living life carefree and how I have changed! Will i lose my job and not find another one soon enough, will I meet my financial targets, will I fall sick, will my plans be derailed, a myriad such thorns plague my path ahead, wish I was that witch with the broom who could sweep past all this and fly ahead to meet the next call of life. Or is this life in all its colours?
Preparing
A week back, I serviced my car, then took it to a carwash and on the way back a feeling of well-being on how smoothly it ran and how good it was looking coursed through me. For some months now, have been urging my weak soul to reconcile with the material losses to be suffered and luxuries to be rejected, if I am ever to shed this moneyed mediocrity that is pinning down my happiness. Unguarded moments of such coziness will surely keep making life difficult. Will having all the accessories and luxuries of life compensate the sadness of living a most sterile, untested, homogeneous existence...I ask myself if I am the most foolish Indian in America.
Fear
There was a time I earnestly looked up to this bday as a time for setting aside singledom. I was vainly confident in the knowledge that family, NRI-ship, career and character could win me the right girl, any day i set out for it. As I set about rebuilding my ship caught in choppy waters, I realize its just not the career that is wrong with me, the person that I am today is a demon shrouded deceptively in human garb. If there is a fear in me today, it is one of commitment to another human being...I find myself incapable of any kindness, even to the people who love me most. Ironic that having discovered the girl who had captured for a long long time, my wonderment and unrequited, unspoken inquisitiveness, I scared myself away and realized it best to let things be and stay off it all. Some lives move in a tangent, barely touching, never intersecting...maybe that is the fate with this un-dis-lodge-able pinprick in my heart too.
Something
I don't know what it is. Something tells me all this will change. Something tells me I will find motivation. Something tells me I will persevere. I trust that Something...I agree to play along.
P.S - After the first read, I thought this was quite a silly post and decided to junk it. But the second read prompted me to resolve and I realized it wasn't such a bad exercise of looking inwards after all. Resolutions for this bday include surfing news websites every day without fail, reading two novels a week, blogging once a fortnight, writing one short story a month, and pen down a malayalam film script within a year. I leave you folks with a beautiful song as a birthday treat, my favorite this season, it is a christian devotional, but then doesnt good music transcend all these narrow boundaries.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Nee Veruthathe Aare???
It is a dilemma that hits me hard every time I sit down to write. English or Malayalam? I have heard people say the language that you think in is the language that you are most comfortable with. English is the language I grew up with - learning, reading and loving but Malayalam was the language I was raised up in, speaking and hearing. I have scarce given attention to the language of my thoughts, but when I began to write them down on this blog, English was the natural language of choice. But as time progressed, the itching to see what little of Malayalam survived in me, had grown to a point, that I have come to curse myself for the step-motherly treatment, I have meted out the mother-tongue all along.
It all began twenty one years ago; that summer vacation in my native place stays ever so fresh in memory. A 6 year old kid sat teary-eyed and shivering before the stern glare of the woman who taught the basics of malayalam to the children in the village. I was getting the alphabets wrong; my mom, ammachi and appachan crowded around the dining table trying to help. But I just kept getting worse and worse. The slide that began then continued year after year. I barely managed to scrape through exam after exam. The malayalam textbook, the malayalam teacher and the malayalam language remained a recurring nightmare of childhood that eluded tiding over.
The 6th Standard, was the first time I came into an oddly tangible, but then-unwanted inheritance - the knowledge that a small part of the malayalam literary corpus ran through my blood too. We had to study a poem, Aethen Thottam (Garden of Eden) written by Mahakavi Kattakayam. Inquired of him to my dad, but the pride which radiated off Pop's face as he recounted the Mahakavi's works and achievements scarce resonated in me. And then it happened. Our Malayalam sir, a literary critic of some renown then, an ancient hoary figure who scared us beyond all mention, was distributing answer papers, he reached mine, looked at my name, then my marks, and asked, "Cheriyan Mappilayude Aarayitte Varum Nee?" I replied and with an expression of pathetic condescension, passed me my paper. If ever I wanted to toss the family name attached to me, it was that moment. Jiby John offered me anonymity. Jiby John Kattakayam was an embarassment in Malayalam classes. Since then, I never used Kattakayam in school and in a gesture befitting my hallowed ancestor, bunked school, the day Aethan Thottam was taught, to skip further shame!
There were brief moments of magic - like when learning SankaraKurup's Mambazham, Malayatoor's Mummy, ONV's Oru Vattom, Lalithambika Antharjanam's Bhoomiyile Malakha, Uroob's Mindapennu and Poonthanam's Jnanappana but those were minor blips in a rigid syllabus that restricted malayalam into an academic subject, rather than a rich language with a good corpus of literature, we just didnt have avenues to know of. The way ICSE and CBSE schools which today are mushrooming throughout Kerala, treat Malayalam, needs to change. I went on to pass Malayalam with "high honours" in the 10th...the second lowest mark in the whole school...I didnt feel shame but blew a sigh of relief that I was done with Malayalam for life, but how wrong I was, how ironic has the turnaround been...in a blog where I extracted maximum mileage and sought self-gratification for the years of anglophilia, I write in loss today about a phobia that grasped me all those years to the cusp of a feverish hatred. Knowing English is good, but trust me, knowing my mother tongue better has been one of the most fervent prayers on my lips, these last few years. I read Basheer, Mukundan, MT and Vijayan today in the hope of reversing my ageing, hoping to make up for the many lost years, in the hope of finding the ability to write in Malayalam too, as freely and with the same youthful abandon, as I can in English. Remains to be seen if I can succeed...
Last year in Delhi, we had a discussion on Khasak, and a dear friend who was part of it, asked me if the english translation by Vijayan himself was anywhere close to the Malayalam original. Embarassed, I told him I had read the english version only and couldnot help on that question. It got me back into reading a malayalam work again and some events from a little later which I have blogged about before, gave me the impetus to atleast try. All said, even this post on Malayalam, I have succumbed to the easiness of writing in English. Maybe its too late, maybe its the overwhelming delusion of my still-strong fascination for English that is preventing me, maybe it is the laziness to master Varamozhi, but it's a restlessness that wont stop devouring me unless I write just once more in malayalam. I guess its true, that old saying - Pettammeyolam Varumo Pottamma.
P.S: I have said somewhere that the books read in the schooldays, the experiences in later life especially the exposure to a new world, have helped in the blogging process...I forgot to add something else to that potent combination. It might seem absurd to you guys but it is a fact...the 5000 strong wordlist I memorized day in and day out for my GRE preps. That took my vocabulary to a new plane all together...and I have rarely needed an english dictionary since then. These days I look at the Shabdatharavali wistfully hoping I knew atleast 1% of the malayalam words it carries, I know I am too old, lazy and busy to slog through its 2000 pages. If only someone has a wordlist of malayalam words prepared and put out there, that I can read, memorize and equip myself with...maybe to talk, maybe to write or maybe just to think in! Forget writing, these days very few people talk good malayalam, colloquial and commonplace words have taken so firm a-firm-hold on us...that I feel the wordlist is a viable option to save both the spoken and the written language.
It all began twenty one years ago; that summer vacation in my native place stays ever so fresh in memory. A 6 year old kid sat teary-eyed and shivering before the stern glare of the woman who taught the basics of malayalam to the children in the village. I was getting the alphabets wrong; my mom, ammachi and appachan crowded around the dining table trying to help. But I just kept getting worse and worse. The slide that began then continued year after year. I barely managed to scrape through exam after exam. The malayalam textbook, the malayalam teacher and the malayalam language remained a recurring nightmare of childhood that eluded tiding over.
The 6th Standard, was the first time I came into an oddly tangible, but then-unwanted inheritance - the knowledge that a small part of the malayalam literary corpus ran through my blood too. We had to study a poem, Aethen Thottam (Garden of Eden) written by Mahakavi Kattakayam. Inquired of him to my dad, but the pride which radiated off Pop's face as he recounted the Mahakavi's works and achievements scarce resonated in me. And then it happened. Our Malayalam sir, a literary critic of some renown then, an ancient hoary figure who scared us beyond all mention, was distributing answer papers, he reached mine, looked at my name, then my marks, and asked, "Cheriyan Mappilayude Aarayitte Varum Nee?" I replied and with an expression of pathetic condescension, passed me my paper. If ever I wanted to toss the family name attached to me, it was that moment. Jiby John offered me anonymity. Jiby John Kattakayam was an embarassment in Malayalam classes. Since then, I never used Kattakayam in school and in a gesture befitting my hallowed ancestor, bunked school, the day Aethan Thottam was taught, to skip further shame!
There were brief moments of magic - like when learning SankaraKurup's Mambazham, Malayatoor's Mummy, ONV's Oru Vattom, Lalithambika Antharjanam's Bhoomiyile Malakha, Uroob's Mindapennu and Poonthanam's Jnanappana but those were minor blips in a rigid syllabus that restricted malayalam into an academic subject, rather than a rich language with a good corpus of literature, we just didnt have avenues to know of. The way ICSE and CBSE schools which today are mushrooming throughout Kerala, treat Malayalam, needs to change. I went on to pass Malayalam with "high honours" in the 10th...the second lowest mark in the whole school...I didnt feel shame but blew a sigh of relief that I was done with Malayalam for life, but how wrong I was, how ironic has the turnaround been...in a blog where I extracted maximum mileage and sought self-gratification for the years of anglophilia, I write in loss today about a phobia that grasped me all those years to the cusp of a feverish hatred. Knowing English is good, but trust me, knowing my mother tongue better has been one of the most fervent prayers on my lips, these last few years. I read Basheer, Mukundan, MT and Vijayan today in the hope of reversing my ageing, hoping to make up for the many lost years, in the hope of finding the ability to write in Malayalam too, as freely and with the same youthful abandon, as I can in English. Remains to be seen if I can succeed...
Last year in Delhi, we had a discussion on Khasak, and a dear friend who was part of it, asked me if the english translation by Vijayan himself was anywhere close to the Malayalam original. Embarassed, I told him I had read the english version only and couldnot help on that question. It got me back into reading a malayalam work again and some events from a little later which I have blogged about before, gave me the impetus to atleast try. All said, even this post on Malayalam, I have succumbed to the easiness of writing in English. Maybe its too late, maybe its the overwhelming delusion of my still-strong fascination for English that is preventing me, maybe it is the laziness to master Varamozhi, but it's a restlessness that wont stop devouring me unless I write just once more in malayalam. I guess its true, that old saying - Pettammeyolam Varumo Pottamma.
P.S: I have said somewhere that the books read in the schooldays, the experiences in later life especially the exposure to a new world, have helped in the blogging process...I forgot to add something else to that potent combination. It might seem absurd to you guys but it is a fact...the 5000 strong wordlist I memorized day in and day out for my GRE preps. That took my vocabulary to a new plane all together...and I have rarely needed an english dictionary since then. These days I look at the Shabdatharavali wistfully hoping I knew atleast 1% of the malayalam words it carries, I know I am too old, lazy and busy to slog through its 2000 pages. If only someone has a wordlist of malayalam words prepared and put out there, that I can read, memorize and equip myself with...maybe to talk, maybe to write or maybe just to think in! Forget writing, these days very few people talk good malayalam, colloquial and commonplace words have taken so firm a-firm-hold on us...that I feel the wordlist is a viable option to save both the spoken and the written language.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Did You Know???
In an age dominated by the lazy game of cricket, that even a pretender like me can play with aplomb, the news of India reaching the final and then winning the Nehru Cup, screamed at me for attention and then filled me with a genuine feeling of happiness. If you still thought, it was another cricket tourney, forget it. Be ready to blink...the game was soccer and the opponents were not our regular South Asian neighbours. I went through this video and countless articles on the triumph with hope of a turnaround in a sport that India was genuinely good at until the mid-90's and then faded away. It can't be a coincidence that India's performance in athletics, football, tennis, and countless other sports took the downward trend once cricket attracted our singular attraction? A regular, pleasing, thrilling sight on train journeys through Kerala was local youngsters playing football and volleyball and a small crowd watching them...cricket took that place for a while, but last year again i saw those small-timers back to playing football and i rejoiced. Maybe the soccer World Cup last year has certainly helped India.
The Nehru Cup held in TVM in the late eighties was my first initiation into watching a sport as a spectator. A C.V.Pappachen goal from the left flank beating three Czechoslovakian defenders and netting the ball from an almost 180deg angle to the goal mouth is still fresh in memory. I.M.Vijayan debuted the next year for Kerala Police who won the Federation Cup, following which Kerala won the Santhosh Trophy after 18 years. V.P.Sathyan, the captain of the two victorious teams, who tragically killed himself last year was the hero of every malayali then. In school, I still remember every one of my classmates playing football with these names on their mouths. In the eighties and early 90's Kerala sport reached its pinnacle with supreme performances in athletics by PT Usha, Shiny Wilson and co, in basketball with CV Sunny, Jayashankar Menon and the rest of their Kerala Police team, volleyball under late Jimmy George besides the legendary football team I wrote of earlier.
Some years back a very talented young footballer who promised a lot and should have been part of this victorious team, Pradeep Jose(not sure that is his name, memory has faded, there is a kerala footballer, Vinu Jose, i think he is his brother, or maybe...), whom I had seen playing for Calicut University once, on that superb Trivandrum Doordarshan programme, Kalikkalam, who made it to the Kerala State team and indian team but died of typhoid, unknown, uncared for, in a hospital in Andhra Pradesh where he had gone, representing Kerala in some tournament. Last year or year before, I saw a Santhosh trophy match, i think the semi or final, which could be termed listless at best, long overhead cross passes failing to reach their intended recipient, clumsy tackles, a boringly sedate "friendly" performance, and i flicked channels, wondering how things came to so low a level. Its heartbreaking to see Leander stretch himself to his limits to keep India in the Davis Cup match after match, and no youngster coming up to replace him, either in skill or spirit and you wonder how, in earlier times, a steady flow of talented players like Ramanathan Krishnan, Vijay Amritraj, Ramesh Krishnan, Leander Peas and Mahesh Bhupathi kept arriving to take over the baton from the older set.
Is cricket responsible? Are we responsible? Were the men who marketed cricket more smarter than the ones who helmed football, hockey and athletics? With enthusiasm, I told my colleague of India winning the Nehru Cup and he scornfully remarked, "Maybe it was some local team." This same person keeps bombarding me with cricket scores each time India plays. If an Indian, can show such extremes of apathy and empathy for two Teams' in Blue, all of us can imagine, what sort of inspiration, support and pride indian sports persons outside cricket have to play for. I don't know if its a mentality developed as an offshoot of globalization, that the weaker ones are left by the wayside...but we see it happening everywhere. In the agricultural sector, in movies, in sports, arts and in almost every aspect of Indian life, a lot of what has been welded to make up our India has been ignored and left to fend for itself. Surely, all this doesnot bode well for us. Ironically, it needed an Englishman to coach, impart confidence and set free a young set of caged boys from the stigma of being ignored by their own countrymen and gain their attention, not by marketing, sponsorship or hype but through a renaissance on the football ground. Is Indian football rising from the ashes? I'd like to believe so.
The Nehru Cup held in TVM in the late eighties was my first initiation into watching a sport as a spectator. A C.V.Pappachen goal from the left flank beating three Czechoslovakian defenders and netting the ball from an almost 180deg angle to the goal mouth is still fresh in memory. I.M.Vijayan debuted the next year for Kerala Police who won the Federation Cup, following which Kerala won the Santhosh Trophy after 18 years. V.P.Sathyan, the captain of the two victorious teams, who tragically killed himself last year was the hero of every malayali then. In school, I still remember every one of my classmates playing football with these names on their mouths. In the eighties and early 90's Kerala sport reached its pinnacle with supreme performances in athletics by PT Usha, Shiny Wilson and co, in basketball with CV Sunny, Jayashankar Menon and the rest of their Kerala Police team, volleyball under late Jimmy George besides the legendary football team I wrote of earlier.
Some years back a very talented young footballer who promised a lot and should have been part of this victorious team, Pradeep Jose(not sure that is his name, memory has faded, there is a kerala footballer, Vinu Jose, i think he is his brother, or maybe...), whom I had seen playing for Calicut University once, on that superb Trivandrum Doordarshan programme, Kalikkalam, who made it to the Kerala State team and indian team but died of typhoid, unknown, uncared for, in a hospital in Andhra Pradesh where he had gone, representing Kerala in some tournament. Last year or year before, I saw a Santhosh trophy match, i think the semi or final, which could be termed listless at best, long overhead cross passes failing to reach their intended recipient, clumsy tackles, a boringly sedate "friendly" performance, and i flicked channels, wondering how things came to so low a level. Its heartbreaking to see Leander stretch himself to his limits to keep India in the Davis Cup match after match, and no youngster coming up to replace him, either in skill or spirit and you wonder how, in earlier times, a steady flow of talented players like Ramanathan Krishnan, Vijay Amritraj, Ramesh Krishnan, Leander Peas and Mahesh Bhupathi kept arriving to take over the baton from the older set.
Is cricket responsible? Are we responsible? Were the men who marketed cricket more smarter than the ones who helmed football, hockey and athletics? With enthusiasm, I told my colleague of India winning the Nehru Cup and he scornfully remarked, "Maybe it was some local team." This same person keeps bombarding me with cricket scores each time India plays. If an Indian, can show such extremes of apathy and empathy for two Teams' in Blue, all of us can imagine, what sort of inspiration, support and pride indian sports persons outside cricket have to play for. I don't know if its a mentality developed as an offshoot of globalization, that the weaker ones are left by the wayside...but we see it happening everywhere. In the agricultural sector, in movies, in sports, arts and in almost every aspect of Indian life, a lot of what has been welded to make up our India has been ignored and left to fend for itself. Surely, all this doesnot bode well for us. Ironically, it needed an Englishman to coach, impart confidence and set free a young set of caged boys from the stigma of being ignored by their own countrymen and gain their attention, not by marketing, sponsorship or hype but through a renaissance on the football ground. Is Indian football rising from the ashes? I'd like to believe so.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Goliath Is Winning...
I was in a bad, bad mood. Got into the car. Put on one of my fave songs lately, from Vadakkumnathan, Gange, the last classical song from the late Raveendran & Yesudas combo. Mohanlal's voice came up previewing the song and I shut it off hastily. "Drat! I want some silence." I clenched my teeth and felt like biting my lips to grind out the irritation with that voice which once soothed, once made me laugh, cry and fall in love with love. My sis giggled at my frustration, making an effort to hide hers. We had just come out from a screening of this years mega-blockbuster in malayalam, hit directorial team of Rafi-Meccartin's Hallo. This year had seen me repeat the angry act many times over...after watching Baba Kalyani, Mayavi and Chota Mumbai which have been the big hits this year. I have a new cardinal rule in place for watching malayalam films...also watch movies from newer untouted directors, younger fresh-faced actors, scriptwriters who have never delivered a hit and films that came and went without making a blip on the malayali conscience. As a result I have watched some good malayalam films in the last one year which many of you evaded, never heard of or never bothered to know of. As I write this two small films, Veeralipaattu and Thaniye, are dying or already gone from Kerala theatres.
The reason I write about Veeralipattu, though I havent seen it yet, is because it has my favorite malayalam actor of today, Prithviraj in the leading role, a debutant scriptwriting team, Ashok-Sasi who deserves early encouragement and finally the young director, Kukku Surendran whose debut film, Oraal, which I will write about later, was a brilliant effort. On Prithviraj, an actor whom I dedicated a post to, in this blog in July 2005, after watching his debut Tamil effort, Kana Kandein and realizing this was one man who deserved to succed in Kerala, i find he is in no better position, two years later in 2007. 2006 was his career-defining period where he broke out and away from all accusations of copying the superstars, limited range, lack of flexibility with such diverse roles as a wrongly accused victim of a sex scandal in Achanurangatha Veedu; the intense, brooding, rough-toungued corrupt cop of Vargam; the fiery SFI student leader with a romantic side who returns years later broken and mellowed in Classmates; the harmless, honest govt clerk from Kasargod whose transition into a guily, ambitious and cunning bureaucrat caught in between three women and salvaging his career when surrounded by enemies, all leading to his salvation in the classic film, Vasthavam and finally ending the year with an understated performance as a young, idealistic journalist in Pakal who reports on the actual scenario of Wayanad's crop failures and suicides blending himself beautifully into an otherwise shoddy film, Prithvi's career has come a long way but is Kerala listening? This year, in Mozhi, he made an indelible mark in Thamizhakam, in the role of a young, earnest musician in love with a deaf-and-dumb girl and in the process proved he could do comedy also effectively, if given the chance.
Well enough of Prithviraj, you guys might say I am overtly praising him, but I am frustrated by the continuing apathy of kerala's youngsters to go out and watch his movies on the big screen. It seems fashionable to say he is arrogant, loud-mouthed, not that talented, over-hyped and therefore his movies shouldnt be watched. I came across many people who pass judgement on him, without even watching his recent movies. Both Mammootty and Mohanlal are prisoners of their fanbase. Good Mammootty films like Karuthapakshikal, Kaiyoppu, Mission 90 Days and Big B have failed to run as they should have because his fans, especially in Malabar, crave for just a typical masala potboiler with comedy, action, romance, melodrama and sentiments thrown in. Mohanlal on the other hand is lucky he has admirers throughout Kerala among the old, kids, women and beyond his huge rowdy fan association, all of which will ensure even his good films like Thanmatra, Vadakkumnathan and Keerthichakra have a decent run at the BO, even without fan support. A few months back 3000 Mohanlal fans were present at the launch of Alibai and a similar number on his birthday celebration in Chengalchoola in TVM. What has Lal done to deserve so much praise since the late 90's. Teenagers and youngsters talk of him like he is their youth icon. But I am sorry. He is 45+. He was the icon of an earlier age...the eighties and early 90's when he did all those special roles. There is a simple explanation for all this. It is the psychology of the mob on display. It is cool among the rough and tough guys of Kerala to be a fan of these superstars and everyone else just joins in to become yet another cool guy and be part of a fraternity and soon they are sucked into believing these two are demi-goods and everyone else in Malayalam, a threat. Unfortunately, this is Kerala with a shrinking audience for cinema where across the board support is needed to rescue a film and not TN, Andhra or Bombay where theatre collections easily run into crores by the opening weekend itself. These superstars have lost it...they are treating us to average fare and we are deluding ourselves that Hello and Mayavi and others are another great effort from them. I have had enough pouring scorn and being cynical and all those things i hate to do and be...I move to the main purpose of this post...an eye-opener to recent good malayalam cinema which failed at the box-office that many of you maynot have had a chance to see, and which is available on vcd/dvd for all of u out there.
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****POSSIBLE SPOILERS****
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Oraal(2005)- The pair of Kukku Surendran-T.K.Devakumar's debut movie, a psychological thrller, Oraal, had Mukesh and Sreya Reddy in a leading role, telling the story of an avante-garde film director and his live-in partner, making a trip to a forest where he intends to write his next script. There, certain fears in the form of a young, bearded man who questions the pseudo-achievements of Mukesh, and gains the attraction of Sreya, enter his mind, all of which leads him down a path of self-destruction. It is what many of you call a slow movie...but I felt there was good suspense allthroughout, unguessable climax, and a very interesting young "villain" character, who is from a theatre background. Adoor Gopalakrishnan praised Kukku for his direction at a film festival.
Mayookham(2005) - Hariharan returns to a genre of film-making he seemingly ditched after the rotten, Prem Poojari. With Saiju Kurup and Mamta Mohandas in the lead, the film dealt with a young, jobless ruffian from a Brahmin family, Saiju Kurup, who fails repeatedly to find a job due to his upper-caste status and turns a rebel and falls into wild company. Enter Mamta Mohandas an NRI girl on a vacation who manages in him a change of heart and prompts him to pursue his old hobby of writing poetry and taking up a lowly press job. Shot in and around beatiful locales on the banks of the Nila, with beatiful songs by the last veteran standing, Bombay Ravi, enchanting cinematography by S.Kumar, a solid script by Hariharan himself and a splendid debut effort by the brooding and intense Saiju Kurup this film sadly went unoticed. The only flaw in the film was that it failed to factor in the IT age where jobs are available for those who try for entry there. Moreover today noone seems interested in the concept of wayward, idealistic youth rebelling against the establishment.
Achanurangatha Veedu(2006) - After the blockbuster, Chanthupotte in 2005, no one expected Lal Jose to take up an offbeat subject, give it as commercial a treatment as possible and extract a fine understated, sensitive performance from over-the-top comedian, Salim Kumar, in the scripts of Babu Janardhanan, for whom this was a second birth in malayalam cinema. Devoid of any sort of melodrama, this film based on the Suryanelli sex scandal, tells the story of a christian-converted widowed clerk, bringing up his three daughters, of whom the youngest is his favorite and a good student. She goes missing one day and incidents from there throw the life of the family upside down and gradually destroys them. Not at all dragging or slow, and not senti-senti, which many people cited as a reason to avoid this movie, i must commend director, Lal for the final shot of the movie which leaves a lasting impression on the viewer. Undobutedly he is a filmmaker at the prime of his talents, as proved later by Classmates and Arabikatha, but unfortunately all the clout he commanded at the box office failed to save this one.
Nottam(2006) - Everyone has listened several times to the wonderful Pachapanamthathe song in this movie. This movie is no less special for the wonderful performance of a handful of veterans of malayalam cinema, Nedumudi Venu, Jagathi Sreekumar and Gopakumar. A young man arrives in a village in Kerala to shoot a documentary on Theyyam accompanied by his friend, a native of the village. Nedumudi plays a traditional patriach who gives in, to videographing his performance, on the urging of his close friend and co-artist, Jagathi's insistence. Jagathi plays his age but comes up with a delightful performance which makes us smile(the malayalam world i use for his character is sarasan...jovial is a close parallel in english...but its not the same!) and then sad. Venu steels the scene in a spell-binding climax. Samvritha Sunil is lovable as the young, village belle. Directed by Sasi Paravoor, I felt gladdened, if only for consolation, that this movie won some awards also this year.
Akale(2005) - Perhaps the first of many noteworthy performances from Prithviraj which went unnoted by the masses. Akale tells the story of a middle-aged, almost broken poet who is still trying to reconcile with his disjointed, cruel past while akcknowledging his present is crumbling. Akale is about Sheela, in the role of a nitwitty, pushy mother whose repeated attempts to straighten her young, helpess son who hates his day job drives him to drugs, alcohol and despair and prods her fragile, physically unable daughter, Geethu Mohandas to escape the confines of her house and find companionship and love, only succeeding in driving her deeper into a shell. A young man in the neighbourhood catches Sheela's eyes as a prospective groom for her daughter, but much to the despair and lack of faith of both her children, she succeds in getting them to agree to it and what follows is a touching portrayal of four human lives thrown amidst a cauldron of opposing emotions, one night. Brilliantly scripted and directed by Shyamaprasad, and photographed to drop-dead perfection by the veteran, S.Kumar and costumes by Kukku Parameshwaran, besides superb performances from Sheela, Geethu, Prithviraj and Tom George, this is a must-watch movie for all. Our movies have become too fast-paced recently, if you are willing to slow down your pace, you should enjoy the artistic powerhouse that is this movie.
Vargam(2006) - If you are looking for the film, that for the first time opened a lot of Malayali eyes, to the talent and screen presence Prithviraj can command, it was this film. Out of theatres in a few weeks, but incredibly popular on torrent sites by word-of-mouth, this movie presents Prithvi as a never before seen policeman on malayalam screen. For the "superlatives" on his character refer to the passage on Prithvi above and I have nothing more to say. Scripted and directed by M.Padmakumar, on an evil cop's rough ride to salvation, the movie has slight similarities to his mentor, Ranjith's Devasuram, but saw Prithviraj improve his dialogue delivery and his physique to deliver a truely break-through performance.
Vasthavam(2006) - Babu Janardhanan returned for the second time in 2006 and paired up with M.Padmakumar to tell a gripping tale of the rise and fall of an ordinary secretariat employee, who plots his way up the bureaucracy to become a powerbroker, but one by one, finds himself losing the people close to him and finally alone...all leading to a finely shot climax stunt sequence, filmed by upcoming cameraman Manoj Pillai. Prithviraj in leading role shows why he is the only young actor around with the flair to take up a multi-hued character whose personal life is in a muddle as he deserts his lady love for a marriage of convenience, seduces and then ditches a divorcee who gives him a helping hand in his career, ignores his wife and connives to draw his lady love closer to him, even apologizing for his behavior to his wife while still helplessly in love with another. His professional life is not much better either with problems recurring again and again, most of it of his own doing. Jagathy in an unforgettable character, of a benefactor to the lead character, draws our applause, smiles and thoughts, sometimes all these, even in the same dialogue. Good performances from Salim Kumar as the tottering businessman trying to shore up his fortune, Samvritha Sunil as the docile, all-suffering wife is a revelation and Kavya Madhavan as the lady love, who does a balancing act with Prithvi, even after her marriage, finally having enough of other people drawing the strings of her life.
Oruvan(2006) - A badly scripted film which stood out for Indrajith's intense performance as a psychopath and debutant director, Vinoo Anand's deft handling of the subject and coming up with some finely shot scenes.
Pakal(2006) - What I call an activist film. A young journalist goes to Wayanad to investigate farmer suicides and crop failures. He lays the blame squarely on the private money-lenders in the area and goverment's callousness and negligence when formulating policies. The film is taken us through the lives of some families, and introduces us to sitiations like women unable to find husbands, people who got overtaxed by uncaring offcials, people taking loans beyond their means, etc. Despite the good efforts of debutant drector Nishad, the script is too bad to give him a chance. Again if you are a Prithvi fan like me, you notice how, he manages to stay the course despite the uneven script.
Sancharam(2005) - A brilliant movie set in a central-travancore village depicting the friendship between two girls growing gradually to the point they fall in love with each other, catch the attention of teachers and family, and are seperated, with the movie ending tantalizingly at a point where one girl stares down a waterfall and the other is about to tie the knot. Possibly, only the second malayalam film, about lesbianism, this film directed by NRK, Ligy Pullapally, stands out for good direction, very life-like dialogues, haunting background music, excellent camera-work and splendid performances by the two lead girls and the supporting cast. A must watch movie...one that deserved a lot of theatre time.
--------------------------------------------------
No apologies for this long post. I had to get it out of my system. I am no intellectual or know-it-all film critic. I just want people to open their eyes to the mediocrity before us. Good malayalam cinema is not dead...the movies i wrote about above are some of the good ones...small films we fail to know of, drowned in the worthless, pointless advertising, marketing, superstar-centric overdose that you and I are spoonfed in Kerala. I don't want Prithviraj or any other youngster to be a superstar in the future. The reason I loved his movies recently was that he played characters who are vulnerable, characters with flaws and faults, a leading hero who lets other characters also have scope to perform, even at the risk of outshining him. Mohanlal, Mammootty, Suresh Gopi, Dileep films are all about themselves. None of the acting talents of malayalam are allowed to shine in their movies, no slice of life of Kerala comes out in their movies, finally none of their characters look like you, or me, our parents, or any ordinary person in Kerala. It would be good if you remember the kind of films, they did earlier for us to put them up on such a high pedestal, now it would be equally good for us and our cinema, if we pulled these superheroes of Kerala down to our own level. Its just a suggestion!
P.S - In the malayalam film, Rajavinte Makan which propelled Lal to stardom, a character delivers this line..."Ente Achane Paranjaal Njan Sahikkum. Pakshe Ente Nethavine Paranjal...". On a discussion forum I saw a Lal fan use the same line, but substituting the Nethavu with Lalettan!!! Mohanlal is only a reel-hero, damnit...
The reason I write about Veeralipattu, though I havent seen it yet, is because it has my favorite malayalam actor of today, Prithviraj in the leading role, a debutant scriptwriting team, Ashok-Sasi who deserves early encouragement and finally the young director, Kukku Surendran whose debut film, Oraal, which I will write about later, was a brilliant effort. On Prithviraj, an actor whom I dedicated a post to, in this blog in July 2005, after watching his debut Tamil effort, Kana Kandein and realizing this was one man who deserved to succed in Kerala, i find he is in no better position, two years later in 2007. 2006 was his career-defining period where he broke out and away from all accusations of copying the superstars, limited range, lack of flexibility with such diverse roles as a wrongly accused victim of a sex scandal in Achanurangatha Veedu; the intense, brooding, rough-toungued corrupt cop of Vargam; the fiery SFI student leader with a romantic side who returns years later broken and mellowed in Classmates; the harmless, honest govt clerk from Kasargod whose transition into a guily, ambitious and cunning bureaucrat caught in between three women and salvaging his career when surrounded by enemies, all leading to his salvation in the classic film, Vasthavam and finally ending the year with an understated performance as a young, idealistic journalist in Pakal who reports on the actual scenario of Wayanad's crop failures and suicides blending himself beautifully into an otherwise shoddy film, Prithvi's career has come a long way but is Kerala listening? This year, in Mozhi, he made an indelible mark in Thamizhakam, in the role of a young, earnest musician in love with a deaf-and-dumb girl and in the process proved he could do comedy also effectively, if given the chance.
Well enough of Prithviraj, you guys might say I am overtly praising him, but I am frustrated by the continuing apathy of kerala's youngsters to go out and watch his movies on the big screen. It seems fashionable to say he is arrogant, loud-mouthed, not that talented, over-hyped and therefore his movies shouldnt be watched. I came across many people who pass judgement on him, without even watching his recent movies. Both Mammootty and Mohanlal are prisoners of their fanbase. Good Mammootty films like Karuthapakshikal, Kaiyoppu, Mission 90 Days and Big B have failed to run as they should have because his fans, especially in Malabar, crave for just a typical masala potboiler with comedy, action, romance, melodrama and sentiments thrown in. Mohanlal on the other hand is lucky he has admirers throughout Kerala among the old, kids, women and beyond his huge rowdy fan association, all of which will ensure even his good films like Thanmatra, Vadakkumnathan and Keerthichakra have a decent run at the BO, even without fan support. A few months back 3000 Mohanlal fans were present at the launch of Alibai and a similar number on his birthday celebration in Chengalchoola in TVM. What has Lal done to deserve so much praise since the late 90's. Teenagers and youngsters talk of him like he is their youth icon. But I am sorry. He is 45+. He was the icon of an earlier age...the eighties and early 90's when he did all those special roles. There is a simple explanation for all this. It is the psychology of the mob on display. It is cool among the rough and tough guys of Kerala to be a fan of these superstars and everyone else just joins in to become yet another cool guy and be part of a fraternity and soon they are sucked into believing these two are demi-goods and everyone else in Malayalam, a threat. Unfortunately, this is Kerala with a shrinking audience for cinema where across the board support is needed to rescue a film and not TN, Andhra or Bombay where theatre collections easily run into crores by the opening weekend itself. These superstars have lost it...they are treating us to average fare and we are deluding ourselves that Hello and Mayavi and others are another great effort from them. I have had enough pouring scorn and being cynical and all those things i hate to do and be...I move to the main purpose of this post...an eye-opener to recent good malayalam cinema which failed at the box-office that many of you maynot have had a chance to see, and which is available on vcd/dvd for all of u out there.
------------------------------------------------------
****POSSIBLE SPOILERS****
------------------------------------------------------
Oraal(2005)- The pair of Kukku Surendran-T.K.Devakumar's debut movie, a psychological thrller, Oraal, had Mukesh and Sreya Reddy in a leading role, telling the story of an avante-garde film director and his live-in partner, making a trip to a forest where he intends to write his next script. There, certain fears in the form of a young, bearded man who questions the pseudo-achievements of Mukesh, and gains the attraction of Sreya, enter his mind, all of which leads him down a path of self-destruction. It is what many of you call a slow movie...but I felt there was good suspense allthroughout, unguessable climax, and a very interesting young "villain" character, who is from a theatre background. Adoor Gopalakrishnan praised Kukku for his direction at a film festival.
Mayookham(2005) - Hariharan returns to a genre of film-making he seemingly ditched after the rotten, Prem Poojari. With Saiju Kurup and Mamta Mohandas in the lead, the film dealt with a young, jobless ruffian from a Brahmin family, Saiju Kurup, who fails repeatedly to find a job due to his upper-caste status and turns a rebel and falls into wild company. Enter Mamta Mohandas an NRI girl on a vacation who manages in him a change of heart and prompts him to pursue his old hobby of writing poetry and taking up a lowly press job. Shot in and around beatiful locales on the banks of the Nila, with beatiful songs by the last veteran standing, Bombay Ravi, enchanting cinematography by S.Kumar, a solid script by Hariharan himself and a splendid debut effort by the brooding and intense Saiju Kurup this film sadly went unoticed. The only flaw in the film was that it failed to factor in the IT age where jobs are available for those who try for entry there. Moreover today noone seems interested in the concept of wayward, idealistic youth rebelling against the establishment.
Achanurangatha Veedu(2006) - After the blockbuster, Chanthupotte in 2005, no one expected Lal Jose to take up an offbeat subject, give it as commercial a treatment as possible and extract a fine understated, sensitive performance from over-the-top comedian, Salim Kumar, in the scripts of Babu Janardhanan, for whom this was a second birth in malayalam cinema. Devoid of any sort of melodrama, this film based on the Suryanelli sex scandal, tells the story of a christian-converted widowed clerk, bringing up his three daughters, of whom the youngest is his favorite and a good student. She goes missing one day and incidents from there throw the life of the family upside down and gradually destroys them. Not at all dragging or slow, and not senti-senti, which many people cited as a reason to avoid this movie, i must commend director, Lal for the final shot of the movie which leaves a lasting impression on the viewer. Undobutedly he is a filmmaker at the prime of his talents, as proved later by Classmates and Arabikatha, but unfortunately all the clout he commanded at the box office failed to save this one.
Nottam(2006) - Everyone has listened several times to the wonderful Pachapanamthathe song in this movie. This movie is no less special for the wonderful performance of a handful of veterans of malayalam cinema, Nedumudi Venu, Jagathi Sreekumar and Gopakumar. A young man arrives in a village in Kerala to shoot a documentary on Theyyam accompanied by his friend, a native of the village. Nedumudi plays a traditional patriach who gives in, to videographing his performance, on the urging of his close friend and co-artist, Jagathi's insistence. Jagathi plays his age but comes up with a delightful performance which makes us smile(the malayalam world i use for his character is sarasan...jovial is a close parallel in english...but its not the same!) and then sad. Venu steels the scene in a spell-binding climax. Samvritha Sunil is lovable as the young, village belle. Directed by Sasi Paravoor, I felt gladdened, if only for consolation, that this movie won some awards also this year.
Akale(2005) - Perhaps the first of many noteworthy performances from Prithviraj which went unnoted by the masses. Akale tells the story of a middle-aged, almost broken poet who is still trying to reconcile with his disjointed, cruel past while akcknowledging his present is crumbling. Akale is about Sheela, in the role of a nitwitty, pushy mother whose repeated attempts to straighten her young, helpess son who hates his day job drives him to drugs, alcohol and despair and prods her fragile, physically unable daughter, Geethu Mohandas to escape the confines of her house and find companionship and love, only succeeding in driving her deeper into a shell. A young man in the neighbourhood catches Sheela's eyes as a prospective groom for her daughter, but much to the despair and lack of faith of both her children, she succeds in getting them to agree to it and what follows is a touching portrayal of four human lives thrown amidst a cauldron of opposing emotions, one night. Brilliantly scripted and directed by Shyamaprasad, and photographed to drop-dead perfection by the veteran, S.Kumar and costumes by Kukku Parameshwaran, besides superb performances from Sheela, Geethu, Prithviraj and Tom George, this is a must-watch movie for all. Our movies have become too fast-paced recently, if you are willing to slow down your pace, you should enjoy the artistic powerhouse that is this movie.
Vargam(2006) - If you are looking for the film, that for the first time opened a lot of Malayali eyes, to the talent and screen presence Prithviraj can command, it was this film. Out of theatres in a few weeks, but incredibly popular on torrent sites by word-of-mouth, this movie presents Prithvi as a never before seen policeman on malayalam screen. For the "superlatives" on his character refer to the passage on Prithvi above and I have nothing more to say. Scripted and directed by M.Padmakumar, on an evil cop's rough ride to salvation, the movie has slight similarities to his mentor, Ranjith's Devasuram, but saw Prithviraj improve his dialogue delivery and his physique to deliver a truely break-through performance.
Vasthavam(2006) - Babu Janardhanan returned for the second time in 2006 and paired up with M.Padmakumar to tell a gripping tale of the rise and fall of an ordinary secretariat employee, who plots his way up the bureaucracy to become a powerbroker, but one by one, finds himself losing the people close to him and finally alone...all leading to a finely shot climax stunt sequence, filmed by upcoming cameraman Manoj Pillai. Prithviraj in leading role shows why he is the only young actor around with the flair to take up a multi-hued character whose personal life is in a muddle as he deserts his lady love for a marriage of convenience, seduces and then ditches a divorcee who gives him a helping hand in his career, ignores his wife and connives to draw his lady love closer to him, even apologizing for his behavior to his wife while still helplessly in love with another. His professional life is not much better either with problems recurring again and again, most of it of his own doing. Jagathy in an unforgettable character, of a benefactor to the lead character, draws our applause, smiles and thoughts, sometimes all these, even in the same dialogue. Good performances from Salim Kumar as the tottering businessman trying to shore up his fortune, Samvritha Sunil as the docile, all-suffering wife is a revelation and Kavya Madhavan as the lady love, who does a balancing act with Prithvi, even after her marriage, finally having enough of other people drawing the strings of her life.
Oruvan(2006) - A badly scripted film which stood out for Indrajith's intense performance as a psychopath and debutant director, Vinoo Anand's deft handling of the subject and coming up with some finely shot scenes.
Pakal(2006) - What I call an activist film. A young journalist goes to Wayanad to investigate farmer suicides and crop failures. He lays the blame squarely on the private money-lenders in the area and goverment's callousness and negligence when formulating policies. The film is taken us through the lives of some families, and introduces us to sitiations like women unable to find husbands, people who got overtaxed by uncaring offcials, people taking loans beyond their means, etc. Despite the good efforts of debutant drector Nishad, the script is too bad to give him a chance. Again if you are a Prithvi fan like me, you notice how, he manages to stay the course despite the uneven script.
Sancharam(2005) - A brilliant movie set in a central-travancore village depicting the friendship between two girls growing gradually to the point they fall in love with each other, catch the attention of teachers and family, and are seperated, with the movie ending tantalizingly at a point where one girl stares down a waterfall and the other is about to tie the knot. Possibly, only the second malayalam film, about lesbianism, this film directed by NRK, Ligy Pullapally, stands out for good direction, very life-like dialogues, haunting background music, excellent camera-work and splendid performances by the two lead girls and the supporting cast. A must watch movie...one that deserved a lot of theatre time.
--------------------------------------------------
No apologies for this long post. I had to get it out of my system. I am no intellectual or know-it-all film critic. I just want people to open their eyes to the mediocrity before us. Good malayalam cinema is not dead...the movies i wrote about above are some of the good ones...small films we fail to know of, drowned in the worthless, pointless advertising, marketing, superstar-centric overdose that you and I are spoonfed in Kerala. I don't want Prithviraj or any other youngster to be a superstar in the future. The reason I loved his movies recently was that he played characters who are vulnerable, characters with flaws and faults, a leading hero who lets other characters also have scope to perform, even at the risk of outshining him. Mohanlal, Mammootty, Suresh Gopi, Dileep films are all about themselves. None of the acting talents of malayalam are allowed to shine in their movies, no slice of life of Kerala comes out in their movies, finally none of their characters look like you, or me, our parents, or any ordinary person in Kerala. It would be good if you remember the kind of films, they did earlier for us to put them up on such a high pedestal, now it would be equally good for us and our cinema, if we pulled these superheroes of Kerala down to our own level. Its just a suggestion!
P.S - In the malayalam film, Rajavinte Makan which propelled Lal to stardom, a character delivers this line..."Ente Achane Paranjaal Njan Sahikkum. Pakshe Ente Nethavine Paranjal...". On a discussion forum I saw a Lal fan use the same line, but substituting the Nethavu with Lalettan!!! Mohanlal is only a reel-hero, damnit...
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Antony, You Too Brutus!!!
Like Antony, who has now forsaken his mushinje naariya kadar shirt and mundu, even I made a decision few weeks back on my career...it was a choice my close ones suggested much earlier, but I rejected on the grounds of some principles, which today has been rendered obsolete by change. Change is good, change is a must for me...less than a year remains for me to face the choice i made...until then its my little secret. So, no questions asked!
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
A Selfish Existence...
I was in the process of taking up another tag from Silverine but what struck me midway as I wrote it was I didn't know the real India of today at all to finish that post. And I digressed. When the summer began I had anticipated initiative, peace and drive to fill up in me. Nothing like that happened, beginnings were made but never finished. A little over 5 years have gone by since I stepped out of my home. In my heady youth filled with non-stop excitement I skipped the most important question of modern life - a career. No one warned me either. Everyone thought I'd figured it out already. The question came back to haunt me with a vengeance when I turned 25 and has seared my soul into searching for the answer ever since. Its almost 2 years and that search still goes on...
A few days back I inadvertently caught myself in the midst of doing a tally up of my debt, duties and plans. It still revolved around money, money that will burn another few years of my precious twenties and a fleeting moment of disgust passed by before I returned to happier fancies. India has been in my thoughts but fact is I am a stranger even in my own home. For me, India is an IDEA. I haven't known what it is to work there, I havenot known the pinch of paying Rs.50 for a litre of petrol, of going to a wedding and being expected to gift nothing less than gold, of falling sick and reconciling to a huge medical bill. I am a simple fool who knows nothing of cost of living, all I think of is some dreams of returning to a glorified past, which today seems a make-believe nest weaved inside a cocoon built over years of effort put in by my parents. A few years back I warned my friends in trivandrum, Shan and Anoop that they were leading a too lavish lifestyle. Their reply was a lesson on New India that still fails to strike root in me. "When you spend more, the drive and ambition to earn more also increases"...this was the answer they gave me and it sent shock-waves through my antiquated system for a few seconds...I was still in the world of my parents and their generation who disparaged any wasteful expenses.
When the accursed first discussion on my wedding plans came up and I replied with a fierce indignation which surprised me that I would marry only if I can live in India...Pops quoted me a desired earning of 1 lakh a month in trivandrum, for me to sustain the family and the high standard of living he has maintained so far. Should I do an MBA in India and get a firm foothold on home soil? The thought troubles me, because unlike the corporate-obsessed youngster I was a few years back, the same thought of working for them feels revolting nowadays. Which brings me to the status-quo. I go work, I come back, take a long nap, some days I hit the gym, other days I watch a good movie, browse for a while and then go back to the struggle of getting another few hours of sleep. I stay away from my friends in the US, much to their pain and anger, but they are from my past. My present is a struggle to thrash a way out for my future and the deluge of free advice I keep getting irritates me. I never thought the reclusive trait in me would resurface but it has. Solitude is bliss and the cellphone is a bitch. Reading has suffered and the booklist I had made up many months back to start on still awaits my perusal. Blogging works best when your mind is clear and thoughts flow in order, but its a churn in there and I unfortunately have sidelined this hobby too.
I don't know and havent cared what picture of me people take out of this blog. I have been warned to stay away from writing personal or negative stuff on this blog because of some news-piduthakaar "anubhaavikal" back in Kerala and I acquiesced for a few months. But this blog is for me. It is to remind me years later of the person I was, the angst I've been through and the person I want to become. The weaknesses in me...it is time to kill it.
A few days back I inadvertently caught myself in the midst of doing a tally up of my debt, duties and plans. It still revolved around money, money that will burn another few years of my precious twenties and a fleeting moment of disgust passed by before I returned to happier fancies. India has been in my thoughts but fact is I am a stranger even in my own home. For me, India is an IDEA. I haven't known what it is to work there, I havenot known the pinch of paying Rs.50 for a litre of petrol, of going to a wedding and being expected to gift nothing less than gold, of falling sick and reconciling to a huge medical bill. I am a simple fool who knows nothing of cost of living, all I think of is some dreams of returning to a glorified past, which today seems a make-believe nest weaved inside a cocoon built over years of effort put in by my parents. A few years back I warned my friends in trivandrum, Shan and Anoop that they were leading a too lavish lifestyle. Their reply was a lesson on New India that still fails to strike root in me. "When you spend more, the drive and ambition to earn more also increases"...this was the answer they gave me and it sent shock-waves through my antiquated system for a few seconds...I was still in the world of my parents and their generation who disparaged any wasteful expenses.
When the accursed first discussion on my wedding plans came up and I replied with a fierce indignation which surprised me that I would marry only if I can live in India...Pops quoted me a desired earning of 1 lakh a month in trivandrum, for me to sustain the family and the high standard of living he has maintained so far. Should I do an MBA in India and get a firm foothold on home soil? The thought troubles me, because unlike the corporate-obsessed youngster I was a few years back, the same thought of working for them feels revolting nowadays. Which brings me to the status-quo. I go work, I come back, take a long nap, some days I hit the gym, other days I watch a good movie, browse for a while and then go back to the struggle of getting another few hours of sleep. I stay away from my friends in the US, much to their pain and anger, but they are from my past. My present is a struggle to thrash a way out for my future and the deluge of free advice I keep getting irritates me. I never thought the reclusive trait in me would resurface but it has. Solitude is bliss and the cellphone is a bitch. Reading has suffered and the booklist I had made up many months back to start on still awaits my perusal. Blogging works best when your mind is clear and thoughts flow in order, but its a churn in there and I unfortunately have sidelined this hobby too.
I don't know and havent cared what picture of me people take out of this blog. I have been warned to stay away from writing personal or negative stuff on this blog because of some news-piduthakaar "anubhaavikal" back in Kerala and I acquiesced for a few months. But this blog is for me. It is to remind me years later of the person I was, the angst I've been through and the person I want to become. The weaknesses in me...it is time to kill it.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Never Been Kissed ;-)))
Been tagged by the biggest brat in blogosphere, Silverine, to come up wth a post on one of the landmark moments of youth, the first kiss. I must warn y'all at the very outset that this post will be a big letdown if you expected to read my antics. Without further ado, lemme jump headlong into the story of a first kiss. My final semester of university, only one course to do, the job hunt yet to begin, I was mourning the coming end of my student days and readying for a farewell to all fun and frolic. That is when a bait to visit the Silicon Valley for the first time was thrown at me by my senior and good friend, P. P had a habit of dozing behind the wheels and needed company on the trip.
San Jose - circa Jan 2004 - The trip as i casually mentioned was something more than that, P was getting married. S, his fiance, a Mallu ABCD, was an American citizen while P was on an H1B visa and the situation necessitated a legal wedding having to be registered. We arrived at S's house. There was some talking going on out of my earshot. P came out and asks, "Da, can you be the witness at the ceremony?" Most of S's family had to be at work that day and the rest were all minors. I gamely agreed and we left.
Clerk: "I pronounce thee, man and wife".
(I click fotos, P & S are visibly relieved. That is when the bombshell drops.)
Clerk: "Now you may kiss the bride."
P: "Ayyo!" (He turns to me with a pathetic Enna Cheyyum Aliya look.)
S: (quickly pinches P on his arm hoping the clerk, an old woman couldnt see).
Me: (scratching my head, touching the wall, as though examing and smelling the fresh paint, unable to muffle my laughter. I get my camera ready.)
The clerk begins to wonder what is happening. Obiously the poor thing didn't know this was an arranged wedding and the church ceremony was yet to be held.
P&S comes closer. I watch out of the corner of my eye with bated breath for the first kiss between two virtual strangers and that too indians, i was seeing in my lifetime, debating whether to snap a pic or not. P moved quick all of a sudden. S readies her lips. P makes a lunge, reaches her side, lands a peck on S's cheek and is back at base position in a matter of seconds. My fingers trembled and ruined the kodak moment that never found its way to pixeldom. The clerk's puzzlement had reached its zenith seeing my uncontrolled laughter now and i wondered if the sternness she now exhibited was a primer for an upcoming reprimand to me for spoiling the pristine moment.
The newly married Mr.& Mrs.P sign the register followed by the witness, whose fingers still trembled from the unexpected thrill.
Clerk: "Phew! That was some wedding!"
The three of us made good our escape, redfaced with P making me promise, never to reveal this to anyone.
Me: Cheh...Chammi! Indiakaarude vela kalanjallo Annai! Itharinjaayirunnel namukke coaching erpaduthaamaayirunnu.
P Mindipokaruthe. Ithe neeyo njano allaathe moonamathoraal arinjaal anne ninte anthyam!
Anyways this is one promise i break for the sake of a kiss. If you guys thought you would get to read me in action...so sorry to disappoint...too many nosey parkers from tvm haunt this blog...anonymity is a luxury i would have loved to afford for this tag!
San Jose - circa Jan 2004 - The trip as i casually mentioned was something more than that, P was getting married. S, his fiance, a Mallu ABCD, was an American citizen while P was on an H1B visa and the situation necessitated a legal wedding having to be registered. We arrived at S's house. There was some talking going on out of my earshot. P came out and asks, "Da, can you be the witness at the ceremony?" Most of S's family had to be at work that day and the rest were all minors. I gamely agreed and we left.
Clerk: "I pronounce thee, man and wife".
(I click fotos, P & S are visibly relieved. That is when the bombshell drops.)
Clerk: "Now you may kiss the bride."
P: "Ayyo!" (He turns to me with a pathetic Enna Cheyyum Aliya look.)
S: (quickly pinches P on his arm hoping the clerk, an old woman couldnt see).
Me: (scratching my head, touching the wall, as though examing and smelling the fresh paint, unable to muffle my laughter. I get my camera ready.)
The clerk begins to wonder what is happening. Obiously the poor thing didn't know this was an arranged wedding and the church ceremony was yet to be held.
P&S comes closer. I watch out of the corner of my eye with bated breath for the first kiss between two virtual strangers and that too indians, i was seeing in my lifetime, debating whether to snap a pic or not. P moved quick all of a sudden. S readies her lips. P makes a lunge, reaches her side, lands a peck on S's cheek and is back at base position in a matter of seconds. My fingers trembled and ruined the kodak moment that never found its way to pixeldom. The clerk's puzzlement had reached its zenith seeing my uncontrolled laughter now and i wondered if the sternness she now exhibited was a primer for an upcoming reprimand to me for spoiling the pristine moment.
The newly married Mr.& Mrs.P sign the register followed by the witness, whose fingers still trembled from the unexpected thrill.
Clerk: "Phew! That was some wedding!"
The three of us made good our escape, redfaced with P making me promise, never to reveal this to anyone.
Me: Cheh...Chammi! Indiakaarude vela kalanjallo Annai! Itharinjaayirunnel namukke coaching erpaduthaamaayirunnu.
P Mindipokaruthe. Ithe neeyo njano allaathe moonamathoraal arinjaal anne ninte anthyam!
Anyways this is one promise i break for the sake of a kiss. If you guys thought you would get to read me in action...so sorry to disappoint...too many nosey parkers from tvm haunt this blog...anonymity is a luxury i would have loved to afford for this tag!
Monday, June 04, 2007
Anecdotes from the Loyola Days...
This was one of the initiatives that served as a precursor to my blogging days. Initially written just for my classmates, I saw its universality and propped it up on the net following which I have recieved appreciation not just from Loyolites, but also people from other schools in Trvandrum, who admired our batch's wild ways, for compiling this ode to our heroics, villainy and foolishness. Recently I recollected more anecdotes and its becoming a pain keeping my ancient tripod home page going, as it gets pulled down every few months. Ever since Blogger started labels, I have itched to place this crown jewel of my campus memoirs at the very top of my Campus Nostalgia category. Moreover a desire to rewrite the jokes, conforming to rules of better english grammar had been preying my mind. So finally after 3 years this revamped write-up comes to its final resting place.
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Thomman and ponnan go to the cyber cafe on his first vacation from nda to check his email.after some time he goes to the owner and in anger says " anna enikke mail check cheyyaan pattunnilla". the guy walks over to see wht the problem is and much to the cafeowner's total bewilderment and ponnans unmuffled laughter finds that thomman types in www.ninanthomas.com and expects all his emails to pop up on the screen.later thomman threatens ponnan with dire consequences if this is revealed and it took 2 yrs for ponnan to muster the courage to reveal. The irony is that the armymen gifted him with a B.Sc in Computer Science from the much-vaunted JNU for his physical and "mental" exertions at NDA.
Motta and Dadu are in animated conversation while Joy Sir is teaching. joy sir looking at them says "hello" intending to put a stoop to their banter. Motta immediately puts his fist to his ear as if holding a fone and asks "hello aara samsaarikkunnathu". Joy sir is stumped!
Mr.Madhusoodhanan Nair(our "beloved" 9th st malayalam teacher) is holding fort and he asks a question to vince in class..."marangalude upayogangal vivarikkuka" and vincekuttan after great thought gives the answer which would have made his pre-historic ancesators proud..."vanya mrigangal kattaalanmaare akramikkan varumbam avarke keri olikkaan marangal sahaayikkum".We broke out laughing uncontrollably hearing his answer and madhu in his trademark punch line says "entha , avan paranjathil oru paayint ille?"
DP asks Leelu to give a character sketch of Rosalind(the heroine of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night). Leelu who had then embarked on a mission to understand the female psyche better after countless failures by reading women's mags gave the shortest, most perfect answer to a question the rest of us would have spent minutes explaining...that Rosalind was a woman of substance!
Muthu on the fone to jaru: incidentally its jacob's father who is most of the time at sea picks up the fone and says hello. Muthu replies back "enthaada hellokke ithrem kaduppam"
Motta calls up thommans house and asks for ninan. thommans dad's name also being ninan responds..."yes ninan speaking". Motta immediately starts a theri abhishekam. Uncle realizes the call is meant for his virtuous son and says,"hold cheyye njan ninane kodukkaam" and motta learnt to be careful next time on.
Abba calls up jabbans house and in his trademark way asks,"hello jibbbby ondo". Jabbans grandfather picks up the fone and says, " ninakke ethe hippye aada vende"
Those were the times of great debates in our class btw mammooty-mohanlal, azhar-sachin, juhi-manisha fans and we reached a consenus by having polls. Chairman one day decided to stretch things too far when he demanded the mother-of-all-polls to find out from the guys whether anil kapoorinaano babu antonykkaano kooduthal glamour!!! Funny part is chairman still cant understand why we cruelly rejected his poll!
After joy sir's tuition we have a nice beautiful walk through a village to reach school. We started scaring puppy that the ppl here were staunch communists and one of us shouted out "oru congress manthriyude makan ivide onde" and as if on cue from one of the huts somebody said,"kathi edukkada". We looked around noone was there. On turning back we had the fun of our life seeing Puppy run for his life. Since then Puppy never walked that way with us!
China once took the goal kick for his team during games period. What happened next was unbelievable. The ball went back over his head and into the goal post which he was supposed to be guarding. The whole class laughted so much we ended up lying on the ground clutching our stomachs. Thankfully for him those where the days before we heard of match fixing.
At tuition, China once saw a gal getting onto the pillion of her dad's bike. He immediately shouted to alert us..."aa kale nokkada"...when we turned someone had come in front of us and all we could see was her dad's musular leg which was bared as he wearing a mundu! Since then whenever we chance upon a well-built guy someone would throw a poke at china, "Entha Chinae, nottamonda?"
Then there was the homo in pongummodu who chased ponnan whenever they set eyes on each other owing to Ponnan's legendary "butter-bun" and once even had the guts to walk into china's house and grab him while our jackie chan was washing his car(neigh "kuthira" in jayan style) and china bet the pulp out of him.
Ponnan always gave gays the creeps and once he accepted a lift from this guy on the bike who after a few minutes slid his arm behind and touched ponnan where it mattered most. Ponnan in his trademark style which only we guys can imitate says "ehhh, enthuvaaaado ithe" to which the man says "ithonnum ishtamille?" and ponnan shouts out "vandi nirthedo...njan erangattu".
Pothan gets into a ksrtc bus for the first time and when the conductor came over, he said " oraalke ulloor vareyolla oru roopede oru ticket" and the conductor is like "ivan aareda".
Pothen couldn't read malayalam properly in those days. He got into a bus whose board he found to read KizhakeKotta...finally the bus took him to the most inaccessible of all places in trivandrum...PulayanarKotta!!!
Pothan used to have a driver taking him to all the tuitions and once in 10th jaru who was with him criticized him for something he did. Pothan immediately says..."driver vandi nirthe...Jaru get out!!!" ...right in the middle of nowhere. funniest thing is the pothen of then and now bears no resemblence except for the fat.
Pothen's dad once came to drop pothen at tuition and comes over to us to make small talk. That is when a jet streaks through the sky and puli as we called him then exclaims in english "Look,a rocket!" and we burst out laughing leaving him chammufied. And to think he is an engineer!
During some program in school..Chakka the announcer says "I thank the chief guest on behalf of the auditorium!"
Ammavan another announcer allegedly used to do this...he would shout through the mic "Agil is needed at the announcer's desk immediately" and then slip away and walk back very importantly in front of all the junior school kids who adored him.
During a rain-hit basketball match the non-teaching staff was mopping the court and ammavan not playing that year and sorely missing the limelight wants something to do and helps with the cleaning...Fr.Mani, our princi then totally unhappy with agil's cleaning technique..and famous for his anger...walks over and gives him a merciless scolding takes the cleaning sack and shows how it is to be done...with the whole school watching with unbridled joy from the quadrangle steps, the needless labours of a dictatorial princi and his over-enthu student.
Ammavan got selected in the 8th itself for the school basketball team and motta would make fun of him saying his main duty in the team was say "vyaasa(our captain then)...vellam".
Fr.Maani, our princi is taking class and he catches Kozhi talking and tells him to stand up. Then he launches a tirade against Kozhi but Kozhi maintains his typical, cool smile throughout. Finally not being able to control his rage anymore Mani shouts out "Stop that cynical smile!"...only to make matters worse as we also start laughing now!
Once one of our guys chanced to read one of raman's essays in his english answere paper. We noiced a sentence circled out by DP. The essay was about an unforgettable day in your life. The offending line went like this..."the boys talked and made noise as though the bus belonged to their fathers"! Raman's justification for this was that "dont we say in malayalam...Ninte Achanteyannoda Ee Bus!!!"
Appu had written a superb essay for the same exam mentioned above and DP impressed by his talent thought of making use of it. She asked him to write a letter requesting permission for an industrial visit. Peri produced the letter the next day but poor DP was totally horrified to find her new promising find had made 15 spelling and gramatical mistakes in the one paragraph letter that she remarked "how will the gal u marry trust you with her life?"
Chairman, Abba and Gundu are walking through statue with a gal in holy angels from their tuition. Chairman is determined to strike a chord in the gal thru sentiments says stuff like nobody likes him or wants him. With no warning right in the heart of the city and amid hundreds of ppl the gal starts crying hearing sreehari's sob story. Abba and gundu are scared to death and run away leaving chairman to do the job of comforting her.
During the contact class, thomman, ponnan, jabban and muthu enter a really expensive restaurant at kochi...immediately 4 chicken fried rice and something new they had never see before and the most costly item in the menu,barbecue quail was ordered. With mouth watering up in anticipation, the guys started deciding where on the table everything would be kept and which part of the quail each guy would take. Finally when everything comes they see the fried rice they ordered came in 4 small cups and the quail was the smallest,thinnest chicken they ever saw. Thomman takes up the quail by its legs, looks at in dismay, points us to a protruding peice between its thighs and remarks, "ithananne thonnunnu kozhiyude sunayi...ithaarkku venam"? After 400 bucks spent and pockets and stomachs empty we swore on vengeance and for the next contact class 8 of us went in..order 2 fresh lime and 8 straws and came out tipping the same old waiter 5ps.
At the restaurant above, the four mandanmaar sat awaiting their food. The waiter was pouring water into their glasses. Some soft music is playing in the room. To show off his range in songs in front of the other guys, Jabban says, "Country Music". The waiter looks up shocked and stares at jabban who cringes. The guys pick up the cue and laugh uncontrollably while thomman within earshot of the angry waiter responds,"Eda Jabba, lavanmaar americayil ninnu hashbush paatukal konduvannathe neeyaayitte tharayaakiyallode" and all hapless jabban can respond is "Sathyamaayittu...enne vishwasikke...ithe Country Music aane!"
Chairman, dadu and motta had a crush on the same gal studying in st.thomas. Everyone resorted to different tactis to win her attention. Motta befriended her younger bro studying in our school, Dau made it a point to attend the same tuitions she went to. Chairman whose ex-classmate this gal was in another school, on his part instituted a planning board(that's how he got this name) with abba,gundu, annan,saami and raman as members to observe who she looks at when our school bus went by hers'.
Then there was bimbu who until the 10th thought that babies were born thru the mouth.
And we had kicha..our genius in all things who wasted an entire roll of film bcoz he thought by taking fotos which could capture a bird flying whose reflection on the lake to ganesh's glasses would be the next biggest thing in the world of fotography ending up with 30 blank fotos in the end.
Leelu was crazy abt this gal in holy angels and one day decided he would go talk to her, whatever happens. At pongummode he deliberately bumped into her and said in one breath..."hi i am arun studying in loyola..u must be Poo$%". Guess wht she replies. So what should I do...and our poor leelu was left licking his wounds....again.
Once we went trekking to Meenmooti and muthu as lazy as ever is finding it tough to climb a small ridge.khaja directly ahead of him is using a creeper, hugging the surface to move on. Muthu clings on to khaja hoping khaja will drag him up. Khaja immediately gave the most stunning repartee we ever heard..."uriyil thoongunnavante pariyil thoongunnoda"! Tired as we were, we threw our bags on the forest floor and broke out into several minutes of unbridled laughter.
On a trip to ponmudi...it was raining...and naga is havin a harrowing time on his bike, he had already fallen off twice...once of all things a creeper fallen on to the road trips him. and the third time a fast passenger comes along and he makes way for it to go by going too much to the left and falls. the bus driver stops beside him and says with a smile "mone oru bus koodi ithile varunnunde". All naga can respond is "Thankyou saare!"
At meenmooti we camped for the night at a cave but we suddenly remembered we didnt have any garlic to ward off the snakes. Naga saved us the trouble by starting a vomitting spree and we made him form a lakshmana rekha around us. Thanks to the odour not even an ant came anywhere nearby during the night.
During the contact class at kochi we were hanging around the marine drive. A flying squad sees us and comes closer. A foreigner steps out of the jeep looks, inspects us carefully and turns to the cops and points at jofu and says "He is the man. He is the thief. Those same big, white teeth" and a cowering jofu responds "I...I no thief...I, I student of loyola".
In 7th standard V.C teaches us that "mole is the short form of molecule". In 8th Manorama M'am says u guys must be knowing wht a mole is and we all shout out to impress her..."Mole is the short form of molecule"...leaving her flabbergasted and asking..."who taught you that"...and when we told her..she is left in total despair.
C.T, our PT sir, during basketball coaching telling us..."divide into four halves".
Rajamma madam in 6th standard sees abu talking and asks..."ey abu whaaat do u waant"...abu replies.."madam i want an icecream."
Bangu in his 6th standard composition on "My Birthday Party"...wrote..."I had porridge for my birthday party...", thinking porridge was some delicacy..not knowing it was kanji.
Thomman had a crush on this St.Thomas gal who was his neighbour. One day he was walking up the road by her house and he saw her inside combing her hair. He jumped the wall, stood by the window and just stared admiring forgetting all sense of time and place. Suddenly she turned, saw him, without any shock or surprise to see him by the window, asks, "Enthaa??"...Thomman shrugs his shoulders....blinks his eyes...turns around, jumps back out over the wall, and walks away like in a hynotic spell! Atleast this is his version of the story...his guts is unparalleled, so is his knack for tall tales...and we never had the courage to cross-check with the gal in question, what really happened.
Jaru playin football is the funniest sight..he would come running from miles away to kick the ball and everyone would move away scared to even be in the path of what would be a powerful shot and he finally ends up running over the ball totally missing it.
Raman sees a chinese model on chairman's 10th std notebook.he asks him..ithaarade... chariman tells him..."silk smitha"....and he responds..."ithaanalle silk smitha" and from then on he was called mandan raman.
Dear Fr.Pulickal's history exams were met with dread in our class. He would pick up blunders from our papers and post it on the school notice board for everyone to read with the culprits names also. Some of the blunders which the passage of time still hasnt eroded from our memories are
- Rani Laxmi Bai had no male natural hair! (Paili wuz the villain)
- The 1857 War was fought by the British to get Independence from India
- Elections are held by secret bullet.
(if any of u remember more of the blunders we made let me know)
Pulickal father launching a tirade against princi in class..."angere ayaalude andiyude shapeil oru fish tank ondaakeetonde"...as luck would have it princi walked by right then...they stare at each other and we are scared a fight would break out...fr.thayyil folds his hands and walks away with a small smile on his face and we are left wondering abt their curious chemistry.
Bazoo and Pothen had a fight in Std.8 but none of us bothered to mediate or find out the problem. A few hours later Pulickal strides into the class with a disgusted expression on his face. "Ninakkoke njan kore standard theri padippikkaam. Melaal immathiri chavarumaayitte ente aduthe varalle." And he proceeded to give us our first official class on obscenities. It was hilarious to say the least. The reason...Bazoo calls Pothen Blood Basket...Pothen responds by calling him Bloody Bus-stand...and they proceed with the case to none other than Puli!!!
Bazoo used to go for a tuition where owing to his extraordinary IQ he was the otherwise strict teacher's pet. But unfortunately for Bazoo the sir had a beautiful daughter from whom Bazoo could never take his eyes off. One day she passed by the tuition room, Bazoo's eyes followed her, the sir notices his distracted pupil and in his typical, high-pitched shrieks, "Bazoo, look here, look here"!!!
Muthu's mother is taking a young cousin of his for admission at loyola with the boy's parents. Muthu's mom is waxing eloquent about her son and the parents are impressed about muthu's prowess. That is when they run into Pulickal who sees muthu's mother and says..."Ningade makan rekshappedathilla...Avan historykke veendum thottu!!!" Muthu's mom struggles to wipe the sweat and shame off her face.
Paili and paramu in 7th are goin doubles on a cycle thru Vellayambalam and become ada to a scooterist and all 3 fall down. The man is very angry and he asks how can u big boys be so careless. To escape paramu tells him they are only in the 4th and the man softens down. That is when paili says..."eda nammal 7thil alle"...the man says..."paavam veenathinte aaghaathathil ethu classil padikkunnathu marannannu thonnunnu"....and paramu breathes a sigh of relief and paili is still confused.
In 10th standard...thomaskutty sir asks china wht is bacteria...apparently a simple question...he starts of confidently..."Bacteria is a microscopic organism..." and falters there...that is when someone prompts from behind...suspect that it is gani...that it cannot be seen with the naked eye...china not knowing wht that phrase meant and suspecting gani made a small mistake in his prompt but still having trust on the gani's judgement...finishes his answer with.."and bacteria cannot be seen by a naked man's eye!" That was one of the most hilarious biology periods ever.
The gal who cried at statue had a lot of admirers in our class like annan, chairman and raman. The guys noticed that whenever plans were made for movies, games, etc annan had started to excuse himself regularly everytime with a strange excuse..."ente oru thengum purayadathil, thenga pothikkan pokanam" and once after tuition he used this excuse and left while chairman and the other guys proceeded to the above said gal's house and surprised on seeing our new romeo, annan at his flame's place, chairman in anger and jest tells the gal, "Ivide thenga kedappondo...ivan nannayi pothiche tharum"!!!
In 1996 AniyathiPravu released and went on to run for a record 250 days in trivandrum, and we soon found out the reason for that. Every guy in our class had watched the movie 4-8 times at the theatre. That is when a friend in Sarvodaya shocked us by saying he watched the movie 28 times and that he saw Bazoo too at 18 of the shows!!! When quizzed, Bazooka, our prodiguous geek, revealed he had watched the movie a total of 30 times, from its releasing centre at Kripa, thru its first change at Pattom Kalpana, followed by our very own "hometheatre", Sreekaryam Joshi crowning his odyssey with a last lap at Kazhakootam Maharaja!!! Oh man...we were one crazy set of buggers.
Bazoo had this unbearable crush for this amazingly beautiful gal in St.Thomas. He didnt like the convential route everyone else was taking and got our daredevil, Thomman's advice on how to proceed in a revolutionary manner. Thomman tells him to walk towards the gal, stick his tongue out, then slowly pull it back and rub it over his lips in a sensuous manner. Bazooka soon finds the gal coming in his way, and does the job. Next day, the gal goes over to one of our guys, suspect it was Muthu who she was friends with and in a very concerned manner asks..."Did I hurt your friend bazoo in any way. Yesterday he stuck his tongue out and blared his lips and teeth at me in a threatening way." Muthu can't control his laughter and she adds..."to tell you the truth, he looked like a monkey at that moment." When thomman came to hear of this all he can say is, "Eda panna bazoo, nee ente paavanamaaya number ithrekke chalamaakiyallo"!
GG House was in a neck and neck race with JJ house to avoid relegation to the 4th spot in the Youth Festival. GG didnt have a participant for the Fancy Dress Competition. That is when Jaru struck upon an idea and found a hesitant prey in Pappachan. The costume was readied in no time and the event started. Pappachan comes out wearing a coat whose cuffs fell shorter than his wrist and a pant which didnt even reach his ankles and dusty, almost worn out shoes which failed the frantic black polishing it receieved prior. "Wow, we thought...jaru is a genius...Pappachan as a tramp...now who could have thought of that...he lives the role". That is when the thundering announcement fell upon the unwitting auditorium which had almost begun to cheer, "GG House presents Pappachan as Michael Jackson!!!". Thriller began to play from Joseph Uncle's sound system, Pappachan begins to wave at the crowd...loud hooting and catcalls can be heard including a shout from one of our guys..."pappacha, ineem moonwalk"...poor pappachan runs away all red-faced and we have to date never spared him the blushes and jaru the plotter joins in the laughter smugly with a njanonnum arinjille ramanarayana attitude!
For malayalam exams we have a question...shailikal(metaphors) upayogiche make sentences.One of the shailikal was baalikeramala(which i think means something difficult to do) paili's sentence for balikeramala-"randam loka maha yudhathila america japante balikeramalayil bomb ittu".
AMDG
P.S- No real names used. Only nicknames. Some of the protagonists in these stories have sworn at the altar of decency and gentlemandom and have experienced selective amnesia, especially now that they are hot market property! My apologies if despite all precautions taken, i still manage to cause pre or post-marital damages and discord.
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(AMDG - Ad Majorem De Glorium - For the Greater Glory of God!) With these 4 letters which didnt make sense to us, scribbled at the end, Fr.Pulickal encouraged us to wind up our answer paper in exams...we did it, hoping against hope that those 4 letters would compensate for an almost blank history answer paper coupled with the strictest valuation possible and save us from sure failure. This is a tribute to that man who opened the world of humour to us and taught us to laugh at ourselves. Fr.Pulickal...you are still fondly remembered. This is also a tribute to a great teacher who shepherded us admirably in the Plus Two years where a great majority of the above recounted incidents happened...DP was as much a part of our class as every one of my classmates. And Loyola...Long Live the school which gave us all the freedom for what we wanted to be and do. Finally The ISC'98 Batch...you guys were the best...you guys continue to evoke great spirit and cheer!
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Thomman and ponnan go to the cyber cafe on his first vacation from nda to check his email.after some time he goes to the owner and in anger says " anna enikke mail check cheyyaan pattunnilla". the guy walks over to see wht the problem is and much to the cafeowner's total bewilderment and ponnans unmuffled laughter finds that thomman types in www.ninanthomas.com and expects all his emails to pop up on the screen.later thomman threatens ponnan with dire consequences if this is revealed and it took 2 yrs for ponnan to muster the courage to reveal. The irony is that the armymen gifted him with a B.Sc in Computer Science from the much-vaunted JNU for his physical and "mental" exertions at NDA.
Motta and Dadu are in animated conversation while Joy Sir is teaching. joy sir looking at them says "hello" intending to put a stoop to their banter. Motta immediately puts his fist to his ear as if holding a fone and asks "hello aara samsaarikkunnathu". Joy sir is stumped!
Mr.Madhusoodhanan Nair(our "beloved" 9th st malayalam teacher) is holding fort and he asks a question to vince in class..."marangalude upayogangal vivarikkuka" and vincekuttan after great thought gives the answer which would have made his pre-historic ancesators proud..."vanya mrigangal kattaalanmaare akramikkan varumbam avarke keri olikkaan marangal sahaayikkum".We broke out laughing uncontrollably hearing his answer and madhu in his trademark punch line says "entha , avan paranjathil oru paayint ille?"
DP asks Leelu to give a character sketch of Rosalind(the heroine of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night). Leelu who had then embarked on a mission to understand the female psyche better after countless failures by reading women's mags gave the shortest, most perfect answer to a question the rest of us would have spent minutes explaining...that Rosalind was a woman of substance!
Muthu on the fone to jaru: incidentally its jacob's father who is most of the time at sea picks up the fone and says hello. Muthu replies back "enthaada hellokke ithrem kaduppam"
Motta calls up thommans house and asks for ninan. thommans dad's name also being ninan responds..."yes ninan speaking". Motta immediately starts a theri abhishekam. Uncle realizes the call is meant for his virtuous son and says,"hold cheyye njan ninane kodukkaam" and motta learnt to be careful next time on.
Abba calls up jabbans house and in his trademark way asks,"hello jibbbby ondo". Jabbans grandfather picks up the fone and says, " ninakke ethe hippye aada vende"
Those were the times of great debates in our class btw mammooty-mohanlal, azhar-sachin, juhi-manisha fans and we reached a consenus by having polls. Chairman one day decided to stretch things too far when he demanded the mother-of-all-polls to find out from the guys whether anil kapoorinaano babu antonykkaano kooduthal glamour!!! Funny part is chairman still cant understand why we cruelly rejected his poll!
After joy sir's tuition we have a nice beautiful walk through a village to reach school. We started scaring puppy that the ppl here were staunch communists and one of us shouted out "oru congress manthriyude makan ivide onde" and as if on cue from one of the huts somebody said,"kathi edukkada". We looked around noone was there. On turning back we had the fun of our life seeing Puppy run for his life. Since then Puppy never walked that way with us!
China once took the goal kick for his team during games period. What happened next was unbelievable. The ball went back over his head and into the goal post which he was supposed to be guarding. The whole class laughted so much we ended up lying on the ground clutching our stomachs. Thankfully for him those where the days before we heard of match fixing.
At tuition, China once saw a gal getting onto the pillion of her dad's bike. He immediately shouted to alert us..."aa kale nokkada"...when we turned someone had come in front of us and all we could see was her dad's musular leg which was bared as he wearing a mundu! Since then whenever we chance upon a well-built guy someone would throw a poke at china, "Entha Chinae, nottamonda?"
Then there was the homo in pongummodu who chased ponnan whenever they set eyes on each other owing to Ponnan's legendary "butter-bun" and once even had the guts to walk into china's house and grab him while our jackie chan was washing his car(neigh "kuthira" in jayan style) and china bet the pulp out of him.
Ponnan always gave gays the creeps and once he accepted a lift from this guy on the bike who after a few minutes slid his arm behind and touched ponnan where it mattered most. Ponnan in his trademark style which only we guys can imitate says "ehhh, enthuvaaaado ithe" to which the man says "ithonnum ishtamille?" and ponnan shouts out "vandi nirthedo...njan erangattu".
Pothan gets into a ksrtc bus for the first time and when the conductor came over, he said " oraalke ulloor vareyolla oru roopede oru ticket" and the conductor is like "ivan aareda".
Pothen couldn't read malayalam properly in those days. He got into a bus whose board he found to read KizhakeKotta...finally the bus took him to the most inaccessible of all places in trivandrum...PulayanarKotta!!!
Pothan used to have a driver taking him to all the tuitions and once in 10th jaru who was with him criticized him for something he did. Pothan immediately says..."driver vandi nirthe...Jaru get out!!!" ...right in the middle of nowhere. funniest thing is the pothen of then and now bears no resemblence except for the fat.
Pothen's dad once came to drop pothen at tuition and comes over to us to make small talk. That is when a jet streaks through the sky and puli as we called him then exclaims in english "Look,a rocket!" and we burst out laughing leaving him chammufied. And to think he is an engineer!
During some program in school..Chakka the announcer says "I thank the chief guest on behalf of the auditorium!"
Ammavan another announcer allegedly used to do this...he would shout through the mic "Agil is needed at the announcer's desk immediately" and then slip away and walk back very importantly in front of all the junior school kids who adored him.
During a rain-hit basketball match the non-teaching staff was mopping the court and ammavan not playing that year and sorely missing the limelight wants something to do and helps with the cleaning...Fr.Mani, our princi then totally unhappy with agil's cleaning technique..and famous for his anger...walks over and gives him a merciless scolding takes the cleaning sack and shows how it is to be done...with the whole school watching with unbridled joy from the quadrangle steps, the needless labours of a dictatorial princi and his over-enthu student.
Ammavan got selected in the 8th itself for the school basketball team and motta would make fun of him saying his main duty in the team was say "vyaasa(our captain then)...vellam".
Fr.Maani, our princi is taking class and he catches Kozhi talking and tells him to stand up. Then he launches a tirade against Kozhi but Kozhi maintains his typical, cool smile throughout. Finally not being able to control his rage anymore Mani shouts out "Stop that cynical smile!"...only to make matters worse as we also start laughing now!
Once one of our guys chanced to read one of raman's essays in his english answere paper. We noiced a sentence circled out by DP. The essay was about an unforgettable day in your life. The offending line went like this..."the boys talked and made noise as though the bus belonged to their fathers"! Raman's justification for this was that "dont we say in malayalam...Ninte Achanteyannoda Ee Bus!!!"
Appu had written a superb essay for the same exam mentioned above and DP impressed by his talent thought of making use of it. She asked him to write a letter requesting permission for an industrial visit. Peri produced the letter the next day but poor DP was totally horrified to find her new promising find had made 15 spelling and gramatical mistakes in the one paragraph letter that she remarked "how will the gal u marry trust you with her life?"
Chairman, Abba and Gundu are walking through statue with a gal in holy angels from their tuition. Chairman is determined to strike a chord in the gal thru sentiments says stuff like nobody likes him or wants him. With no warning right in the heart of the city and amid hundreds of ppl the gal starts crying hearing sreehari's sob story. Abba and gundu are scared to death and run away leaving chairman to do the job of comforting her.
During the contact class, thomman, ponnan, jabban and muthu enter a really expensive restaurant at kochi...immediately 4 chicken fried rice and something new they had never see before and the most costly item in the menu,barbecue quail was ordered. With mouth watering up in anticipation, the guys started deciding where on the table everything would be kept and which part of the quail each guy would take. Finally when everything comes they see the fried rice they ordered came in 4 small cups and the quail was the smallest,thinnest chicken they ever saw. Thomman takes up the quail by its legs, looks at in dismay, points us to a protruding peice between its thighs and remarks, "ithananne thonnunnu kozhiyude sunayi...ithaarkku venam"? After 400 bucks spent and pockets and stomachs empty we swore on vengeance and for the next contact class 8 of us went in..order 2 fresh lime and 8 straws and came out tipping the same old waiter 5ps.
At the restaurant above, the four mandanmaar sat awaiting their food. The waiter was pouring water into their glasses. Some soft music is playing in the room. To show off his range in songs in front of the other guys, Jabban says, "Country Music". The waiter looks up shocked and stares at jabban who cringes. The guys pick up the cue and laugh uncontrollably while thomman within earshot of the angry waiter responds,"Eda Jabba, lavanmaar americayil ninnu hashbush paatukal konduvannathe neeyaayitte tharayaakiyallode" and all hapless jabban can respond is "Sathyamaayittu...enne vishwasikke...ithe Country Music aane!"
Chairman, dadu and motta had a crush on the same gal studying in st.thomas. Everyone resorted to different tactis to win her attention. Motta befriended her younger bro studying in our school, Dau made it a point to attend the same tuitions she went to. Chairman whose ex-classmate this gal was in another school, on his part instituted a planning board(that's how he got this name) with abba,gundu, annan,saami and raman as members to observe who she looks at when our school bus went by hers'.
Then there was bimbu who until the 10th thought that babies were born thru the mouth.
And we had kicha..our genius in all things who wasted an entire roll of film bcoz he thought by taking fotos which could capture a bird flying whose reflection on the lake to ganesh's glasses would be the next biggest thing in the world of fotography ending up with 30 blank fotos in the end.
Leelu was crazy abt this gal in holy angels and one day decided he would go talk to her, whatever happens. At pongummode he deliberately bumped into her and said in one breath..."hi i am arun studying in loyola..u must be Poo$%". Guess wht she replies. So what should I do...and our poor leelu was left licking his wounds....again.
Once we went trekking to Meenmooti and muthu as lazy as ever is finding it tough to climb a small ridge.khaja directly ahead of him is using a creeper, hugging the surface to move on. Muthu clings on to khaja hoping khaja will drag him up. Khaja immediately gave the most stunning repartee we ever heard..."uriyil thoongunnavante pariyil thoongunnoda"! Tired as we were, we threw our bags on the forest floor and broke out into several minutes of unbridled laughter.
On a trip to ponmudi...it was raining...and naga is havin a harrowing time on his bike, he had already fallen off twice...once of all things a creeper fallen on to the road trips him. and the third time a fast passenger comes along and he makes way for it to go by going too much to the left and falls. the bus driver stops beside him and says with a smile "mone oru bus koodi ithile varunnunde". All naga can respond is "Thankyou saare!"
At meenmooti we camped for the night at a cave but we suddenly remembered we didnt have any garlic to ward off the snakes. Naga saved us the trouble by starting a vomitting spree and we made him form a lakshmana rekha around us. Thanks to the odour not even an ant came anywhere nearby during the night.
During the contact class at kochi we were hanging around the marine drive. A flying squad sees us and comes closer. A foreigner steps out of the jeep looks, inspects us carefully and turns to the cops and points at jofu and says "He is the man. He is the thief. Those same big, white teeth" and a cowering jofu responds "I...I no thief...I, I student of loyola".
In 7th standard V.C teaches us that "mole is the short form of molecule". In 8th Manorama M'am says u guys must be knowing wht a mole is and we all shout out to impress her..."Mole is the short form of molecule"...leaving her flabbergasted and asking..."who taught you that"...and when we told her..she is left in total despair.
C.T, our PT sir, during basketball coaching telling us..."divide into four halves".
Rajamma madam in 6th standard sees abu talking and asks..."ey abu whaaat do u waant"...abu replies.."madam i want an icecream."
Bangu in his 6th standard composition on "My Birthday Party"...wrote..."I had porridge for my birthday party...", thinking porridge was some delicacy..not knowing it was kanji.
Thomman had a crush on this St.Thomas gal who was his neighbour. One day he was walking up the road by her house and he saw her inside combing her hair. He jumped the wall, stood by the window and just stared admiring forgetting all sense of time and place. Suddenly she turned, saw him, without any shock or surprise to see him by the window, asks, "Enthaa??"...Thomman shrugs his shoulders....blinks his eyes...turns around, jumps back out over the wall, and walks away like in a hynotic spell! Atleast this is his version of the story...his guts is unparalleled, so is his knack for tall tales...and we never had the courage to cross-check with the gal in question, what really happened.
Jaru playin football is the funniest sight..he would come running from miles away to kick the ball and everyone would move away scared to even be in the path of what would be a powerful shot and he finally ends up running over the ball totally missing it.
Raman sees a chinese model on chairman's 10th std notebook.he asks him..ithaarade... chariman tells him..."silk smitha"....and he responds..."ithaanalle silk smitha" and from then on he was called mandan raman.
Dear Fr.Pulickal's history exams were met with dread in our class. He would pick up blunders from our papers and post it on the school notice board for everyone to read with the culprits names also. Some of the blunders which the passage of time still hasnt eroded from our memories are
- Rani Laxmi Bai had no male natural hair! (Paili wuz the villain)
- The 1857 War was fought by the British to get Independence from India
- Elections are held by secret bullet.
(if any of u remember more of the blunders we made let me know)
Pulickal father launching a tirade against princi in class..."angere ayaalude andiyude shapeil oru fish tank ondaakeetonde"...as luck would have it princi walked by right then...they stare at each other and we are scared a fight would break out...fr.thayyil folds his hands and walks away with a small smile on his face and we are left wondering abt their curious chemistry.
Bazoo and Pothen had a fight in Std.8 but none of us bothered to mediate or find out the problem. A few hours later Pulickal strides into the class with a disgusted expression on his face. "Ninakkoke njan kore standard theri padippikkaam. Melaal immathiri chavarumaayitte ente aduthe varalle." And he proceeded to give us our first official class on obscenities. It was hilarious to say the least. The reason...Bazoo calls Pothen Blood Basket...Pothen responds by calling him Bloody Bus-stand...and they proceed with the case to none other than Puli!!!
Bazoo used to go for a tuition where owing to his extraordinary IQ he was the otherwise strict teacher's pet. But unfortunately for Bazoo the sir had a beautiful daughter from whom Bazoo could never take his eyes off. One day she passed by the tuition room, Bazoo's eyes followed her, the sir notices his distracted pupil and in his typical, high-pitched shrieks, "Bazoo, look here, look here"!!!
Muthu's mother is taking a young cousin of his for admission at loyola with the boy's parents. Muthu's mom is waxing eloquent about her son and the parents are impressed about muthu's prowess. That is when they run into Pulickal who sees muthu's mother and says..."Ningade makan rekshappedathilla...Avan historykke veendum thottu!!!" Muthu's mom struggles to wipe the sweat and shame off her face.
Paili and paramu in 7th are goin doubles on a cycle thru Vellayambalam and become ada to a scooterist and all 3 fall down. The man is very angry and he asks how can u big boys be so careless. To escape paramu tells him they are only in the 4th and the man softens down. That is when paili says..."eda nammal 7thil alle"...the man says..."paavam veenathinte aaghaathathil ethu classil padikkunnathu marannannu thonnunnu"....and paramu breathes a sigh of relief and paili is still confused.
In 10th standard...thomaskutty sir asks china wht is bacteria...apparently a simple question...he starts of confidently..."Bacteria is a microscopic organism..." and falters there...that is when someone prompts from behind...suspect that it is gani...that it cannot be seen with the naked eye...china not knowing wht that phrase meant and suspecting gani made a small mistake in his prompt but still having trust on the gani's judgement...finishes his answer with.."and bacteria cannot be seen by a naked man's eye!" That was one of the most hilarious biology periods ever.
The gal who cried at statue had a lot of admirers in our class like annan, chairman and raman. The guys noticed that whenever plans were made for movies, games, etc annan had started to excuse himself regularly everytime with a strange excuse..."ente oru thengum purayadathil, thenga pothikkan pokanam" and once after tuition he used this excuse and left while chairman and the other guys proceeded to the above said gal's house and surprised on seeing our new romeo, annan at his flame's place, chairman in anger and jest tells the gal, "Ivide thenga kedappondo...ivan nannayi pothiche tharum"!!!
In 1996 AniyathiPravu released and went on to run for a record 250 days in trivandrum, and we soon found out the reason for that. Every guy in our class had watched the movie 4-8 times at the theatre. That is when a friend in Sarvodaya shocked us by saying he watched the movie 28 times and that he saw Bazoo too at 18 of the shows!!! When quizzed, Bazooka, our prodiguous geek, revealed he had watched the movie a total of 30 times, from its releasing centre at Kripa, thru its first change at Pattom Kalpana, followed by our very own "hometheatre", Sreekaryam Joshi crowning his odyssey with a last lap at Kazhakootam Maharaja!!! Oh man...we were one crazy set of buggers.
Bazoo had this unbearable crush for this amazingly beautiful gal in St.Thomas. He didnt like the convential route everyone else was taking and got our daredevil, Thomman's advice on how to proceed in a revolutionary manner. Thomman tells him to walk towards the gal, stick his tongue out, then slowly pull it back and rub it over his lips in a sensuous manner. Bazooka soon finds the gal coming in his way, and does the job. Next day, the gal goes over to one of our guys, suspect it was Muthu who she was friends with and in a very concerned manner asks..."Did I hurt your friend bazoo in any way. Yesterday he stuck his tongue out and blared his lips and teeth at me in a threatening way." Muthu can't control his laughter and she adds..."to tell you the truth, he looked like a monkey at that moment." When thomman came to hear of this all he can say is, "Eda panna bazoo, nee ente paavanamaaya number ithrekke chalamaakiyallo"!
GG House was in a neck and neck race with JJ house to avoid relegation to the 4th spot in the Youth Festival. GG didnt have a participant for the Fancy Dress Competition. That is when Jaru struck upon an idea and found a hesitant prey in Pappachan. The costume was readied in no time and the event started. Pappachan comes out wearing a coat whose cuffs fell shorter than his wrist and a pant which didnt even reach his ankles and dusty, almost worn out shoes which failed the frantic black polishing it receieved prior. "Wow, we thought...jaru is a genius...Pappachan as a tramp...now who could have thought of that...he lives the role". That is when the thundering announcement fell upon the unwitting auditorium which had almost begun to cheer, "GG House presents Pappachan as Michael Jackson!!!". Thriller began to play from Joseph Uncle's sound system, Pappachan begins to wave at the crowd...loud hooting and catcalls can be heard including a shout from one of our guys..."pappacha, ineem moonwalk"...poor pappachan runs away all red-faced and we have to date never spared him the blushes and jaru the plotter joins in the laughter smugly with a njanonnum arinjille ramanarayana attitude!
For malayalam exams we have a question...shailikal(metaphors) upayogiche make sentences.One of the shailikal was baalikeramala(which i think means something difficult to do) paili's sentence for balikeramala-"randam loka maha yudhathila america japante balikeramalayil bomb ittu".
AMDG
P.S- No real names used. Only nicknames. Some of the protagonists in these stories have sworn at the altar of decency and gentlemandom and have experienced selective amnesia, especially now that they are hot market property! My apologies if despite all precautions taken, i still manage to cause pre or post-marital damages and discord.
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(AMDG - Ad Majorem De Glorium - For the Greater Glory of God!) With these 4 letters which didnt make sense to us, scribbled at the end, Fr.Pulickal encouraged us to wind up our answer paper in exams...we did it, hoping against hope that those 4 letters would compensate for an almost blank history answer paper coupled with the strictest valuation possible and save us from sure failure. This is a tribute to that man who opened the world of humour to us and taught us to laugh at ourselves. Fr.Pulickal...you are still fondly remembered. This is also a tribute to a great teacher who shepherded us admirably in the Plus Two years where a great majority of the above recounted incidents happened...DP was as much a part of our class as every one of my classmates. And Loyola...Long Live the school which gave us all the freedom for what we wanted to be and do. Finally The ISC'98 Batch...you guys were the best...you guys continue to evoke great spirit and cheer!
Monday, May 21, 2007
The Weight of Chalk...
The last period of the day was winding to a close. The kids were growing increasingly restless but took note of the irritation irradiating from their teacher's face and quietened. Ananthan Master mopped the few beads of sweat building up near his eyebrow carelessly with the sleeves of what had been hours earlier a neatly pressed white shirt. Sunanda was not going to be happy today. The perfectly folded handkerchief she tucked into his pocket every morning got back home in the evening, never used. She had once joked that if it helped, she could take the half-sleeves off of his old shirts and sew them into a kerchief. Ananthan had thought it was a great idea. Sunanda could just gasp in dismay.
"Maashe, the last bell rung 10 minutes ago."
It was one of the more brazen boys in the class. Ananthan stirred from his thoughts, and looked at the boy in disapproval.
"So, what if I keep you boys back a little longer. You are students taking the public exams this year, not children in elementary school."
The cowed down boy tried to summon an expression of utter boredom to his face. All he could manage was a shake of his head, caught as he was in the unusual cold stare of his teacher.
"Class dismissed. Next class we will take up Lagrange's Theorem."
"Maashe, you covered that only yesterday," a timider voice spoke up this time.
Ananthan threw up his arms, and showed the way to the door to his surprised students.
"Sir, are you okay, you seem ill. I can give you a ride home on my moped."
"Thanks for the offer, Bala. I am fine," Ananthan said and watched as Balan trooped out with his gang of friends.
Balan was one of Ananthan's favorites not just because he was a good student. His talent in versification and essay writing had won for the school many prizes in the District Youth Festival. But what troubled Ananthan was that like many of the other senior students in the school, Balan was also getting increasingly attracted to the politics that was being unleashed at all levels of the society in the district. Democracy was slowly giving way to fascism with a fight to the finish for dominance between the Left and the Right. Political murders were happening at an alarmingly increasing frequency, a fragile peace survived; one act of aggrandizement was all it took. Balan's family had traditionally advocated Rightist politics...and Balan seemed destined to go that road too. Ananthan had advised his pupil, but was met with a stonewall, that refused to open up...perhaps it must be because I was a leftist earlier, Ananthan tried to comfort himself.
The classroom had emptied out. He pondered hard on his next act. Should he just go home or should he.....he didn’t let the thought carry itself out. With overdone effort, he pressed his palms down on the wooden desk, and raised himself from his chair. He turned to the blackboard, and began to wipe it clean, with the blackened rug that had for long begged for washing and now seemed to be threatening to stop doing its work. Ananthan took a step backwards and surveyed his efforts. A reflection of the blackboard seemed to have fallen on his face as it darkened; dismayed by the chalkmarks that still littered the board. A sudden rage stoked up in him, and with firm, wide, almost manic strokes he gleaned away the last of the white that refused to detach in his earlier attempt, from its civilizational opposite, the black. He stacked his notebooks firmly within his left arm, collected the umbrella from its resting place by the wall and strode out, forgetting to turn off the fan that wheeled on and on...
The Local Committee office was on the way to his home. It must have been almost 20 years since he last took the steps leading upto its dusty confines. Then, he was considered among the Party's most promising leaders from the district. His speeches stood out for the calm manner in which he elucidated his thoughts, in an age when only fiery speeches could win the crowds, and for the substantive ideas he seemed to possess. He had become the Local committee secretary at 25, was promoted to the Area Committee at 27 and with the District Committee, the coveted State Committee membership or a legislatorship only some years down the line, he had supposedly thrown it all away. Ananthan knew it wasn't like that. He was an accused in the first of the political murders that aroused the media interest in the district and was considered lucky to have gotten away unpunished. His young wife, Sunanda was pregnant then and miscarried, due to the stress the trial brought about. Guilt, fatigue and a lack of fulfillment from the 12 years of model political activism he strived to pursue colluded in persistent pursuit of a change of heart and he quit. He had been branded a coward and traitor...but the years had forgiven and forgotten all that was said and done. His younger brother, Ravi had taken his place in the party and Ananthan, the fledgling politician was long erased from the public mind, he was today only Ananthan Master, a well-regarded, but insignificant high school mathematics teacher in public consciousness, at the Govt. Higher Secondary School.
The Local Committee office hadn't changed in the years. Unlike the corporate dalliance the party saw at the state ad district level, the grassroots still clung to its affinity with the common man. Now, the party owned the building but continued to rent the ground floor to the small convenience store, a tea shop, and the barber who had all set shop up there for as long as he could remember. Ananthan hesitantly climbed up the stairs and lingered for a few seconds on the corridor. He peaked into the meeting room. The creaky wooden benches had given way to plastic chairs and the walls were freshly painted. On the walls, still hung the same three pictures of Marx, Engels and Lenin from his days. The secretary's room beckoned to him. He was once its occupant, now a guest, feeling his way around what was once his second, or possibly his primary address. Without knocking, he entered the room and saw the secretary, Ramankutty talking on his mobile and his brother, Ravi staring out of the window. Ravi's presence unsettled Ananthan. Ravi had more important things to do in the district or area committee than hang around this place.
Ramankutty motioned Ananthan to take a chair, switched off his phone, a broad smile taking shape on his puckered lips.
"Thank you for coming, Master."
Ananthan didn't reply but looked at Ravi, whose body language betrayed a nervousness that Ananthan tried to piece together.
"Ananthetta, sorry for bothering you. The party members here brought some troubling news which, Comrade Ramankutty and I thought, you could help resolve.
"What is it?" Ananthan could feel his stomach tighten, a sudden fear gripped him. So this was it. His worst fears were turning true.
"You know how the Right, is increasingly finding supporters among the youngsters here. We feel it is a disturbing..."
"Come, to the point Ravi!" Ananthan interrupted his brother. Why is it that politicians fail to see the beauty of keeping their talk, short and sweet, Ananthan thought?
"It has to do with your student, Balan. He is spreading their ideology among the students at your school and around where he lives. If we don’t nip this in the bud, it will be hard to put a check on his activities when he is older."
"I guessed as much. Why did you have to bring me into this? You know, I am done with politics," Ananthan couldn’t mask the displeasure he felt for his younger brother.
"Yeah, we know that. That is why we need your help," the secretary had spoken for the first time.
"I have tried to counsel him. But he won't listen to me."
"Exactly! That is why we need to talk to him. We have tried to get him alone but he moves around with a gang of his friends all the time. But he trusts you. If you can take him somewhere, we can talk to him in person. It will only do him good you know," Ravi tepidly said.
"I know what is good for him. You don't need to tell me that!" Ananthan snapped at his younger brother. The fellow was a better politician than he had thought.
"Well, don't blame me if something untoward happens. You know how things work around here. More importantly don’t blame yourself." Ravi noticed the concern that briefly escaped Ananthan as he finished his sentence.
"Ananthetta, don’t worry. We will just give him a ticking off. If that doesn’t work, let's all comfort ourselves in that he wasn't ready to change his fate."
How insensitive and arrogant had Ravi become, Ananthan thought. In a few hours they would both be back in their house and would all be a happy family. Ravi had never married, citing his party work as the sole love of his life. They lived under the same roof even after their parents had died and never thought of partitioning the inherited house and land. Ananthan's two children, Anu and Anish doted on their uncle so much, that Ananthan always wondered, why despite being a teacher he couldn't get as close to his kids as Ravi, a chronic bachelor.
"All right. I will tell Balan to drop me home tomorrow evening after school."
Ananthan walked out, not bothering to bid farewell. Ravi collapsed on a chair, he was sweating profusely...it was the first time in his life he put on the garb of a politician, to talk to his elder brother, whom he still venerated and considered as his first political guru.
"Here, drink this," the equally relieved secretary passed a tumbler containing water to Ravi.
Sunanda had observed the worry, scribbled large on Ananthan's face, but she couldn't decipher it. Nor could she connect the cold stares Ananthan kept giving Ravi, ever since he had reached home too. All night Ananthan tossed and turned in the bed, unlike the sound sleep he almost always managed to have. In the morning, Ananthan took his morning shower and skipped breakfast, like he usually did.
"Here take your books, and umbrella." Sunanda came running after Ananthan, who absently turned around, collected his belongings and walked, without acknowledging her.
A sigh of despair overcame her. Why is it that men seemed to carry all the weight of the world on their shoulders, she wondered. Her thoughts turned around to her children getting ready for school. Their lunch had yet to be readied. They studied at a different school from Ananthan's, a better school, a private school. Ravi was the one who forcefully advocated that...so much for socialism, Ananthan had thought before finally yielding.
"Bala, I am still feeling unwell. Can you drop me at my house after school."
"Of course, Master.'
"Thank you, Bala."
The rest of the day went by as fast as Ananthan would have loved it to slow down. It had to be done. Balan's zeal, courage and strength would only increase in the years to come and it would only put his life in danger. There wasn’t much point in talking to the parents. Most kids with such early political leanings pick it up only from home and with the encouragement of their parents. Ananthan knew this well, he and Ravi were prime examples.
The pillion was a little too small, but Balan slid forward to make more space for Ananthan. They took off with Balan riding slower than usual. This was a big day for him, and a big honour. He had seen Ananthan Master walking home a few times when he took this route which lead to a friend's house, but he never took up the ride Balan offered.
"Maashe, this is the first time i am giving a teacher a ride.'
"Hmmm."
"Maashe, have you corrected the mid-term papers?"
"Yes. You have done very well. You should be getting it the day after. I have a few more to valuate."
"Thank You." The thrill from Balan's cracked voice made Ananthan's heart cringe.
"Why this cup of woes for me, G-G-G-God," Ananthan mused wearily. From believer to atheist to agnost to hesitant believer again, his faith had completed a full orbit around his life.
In the distance, a jeep lay parked by the roadside. Three men could be seen leaning against it facing them. As they got closer, a sudden fear enveloped Balan. A sudden knowledge of what was about to befall hit him and he slowed the moped down. His parents and partymen had regularly warned him over the last few months of a 'quotation' put out for him by the Left's goonda squads. He went home or went out with a group of fellow-men and always kept a tight guard when having to go it alone. Ananthan saw the men too at the same instant and knew they were spotted. Balan tried to turn around.
"What are you doing?" Ananthan asked. The histrionic talents of his youth were back. Ananthan thought disgustedly.
"Maashe, they are men after me. I can't get caught."
"Don't worry I am there." Ananthan tried to calm his pupil.
The three men, now joined by a forth unseen before, came running at breakneck speed.
"We have been waiting for you, you bastard," one of them shouted as they caught up. Ass-oles, Ananthan thought. They had given away their game even before it started. These were not the genuine party-men who would have been much smarter than this...these were the clinger-on rogues with no work to do, that were highly valued these days by politicians, for doing their dirty spadework.
"How did you know I am coming this way?" Balan shot back.
Ananthan's heart sank with the question. Balan would have been a fool not to miss the betrayal now and Ananthan knew Balan was anything but a fool.
"Sonofabitch, you have hardly sprouted a moustache and you have begun to wisetalk to elders too," one of the men said in a harsh tone.
'Move back. Let me speak," the forth man whom they hadn’t spotted initially came forward. He had a pleasanter demeanor than the other three. Ananthan recognized him as Ashokan, who had begun party work around the time he had begun too. Not even bothering to acknowledge Ananthan he placed his calloused fingers across Balan's cheeks.
"We are being told you are increasingly becoming a smart-ass. Stop involving in your kiddy-politics, study well, find a job and escape from here. Else you are going to die and that too in pain.
"I would welcome a death like that from you monsters with open arms."
A warm smile appeared on the man's face.
"Stop playing hero, kid. This is not personal. This is politics and this is the politics your people would deal, to one of ours too. I too have kids, but I have warned them to stay off this game of death. I just extend the same threat to you, as a father would."
"Thanks for your fatherly concern, mister. Now if you could excuse us...I have better things to do," Balan smirked.
This was a mistake. The smile disappeared from the man's face and Ananthan cowered as a murderous intent replaced it. He slapped Balan, hard on his face. Balan fell off the moped and with him the moped and Ananthan too hit the ground.
"Is that the best, you could give me," Balan responded gamely.
"Stop it Bala. You are provoking them needlessly," Ananthan pleaded.
"I have waited for this day, all my life, Master. For how long can I hide?"
The four men went berserk at that moment, pounced on Balan, and began kicking him mercilessly.
Ananthan cried and begged but was shaken off by the fourth man who pushed him away as the other three, unleashed their powerful blows on the now bleeding boy.
A few people were coming. One of the men, ran to the jeep, reversed it, the other three men, caught hold of Ananthan Master, threw him into the jeep and sped off.
"Wait. Let me out. I need to take him to the hospital."
"There are other people for that. We will take you home after some time. He will be well cared for."
They dropped Ananthan off at his home after a few hours.
Ravi was waiting on the verandah. He had already heard the news. A look of apology, and a tint of shame was writ all over his face.
"Ananthetta, i am sorry things turned out this way."
"You promised me you won’t hurt him."
"Things got out of hand. The men were provoked very badly."
"Your ideology does allow for violence. But against a young, defenseless boy?"
Ravi kept quiet. He knew his brother would never forgive him for this.
"We are all worse than animals. You betrayed a brother. I betrayed a student."
Night had set in. Ananthan paced restlessly on the frontyard, wondering how hurt was Balan. The sky had an ashen colour, thanks to the thick clouds, which veiled the moon, away from prying eyes, to the verge of opacity. Ravi had forbid him from going to the hospital where the rightist activists had begun talking of revenge. The police had visited and taken Balan's statement according to a journalist Ravi had called up. Sunanda had heard all that happened, from Ravi who begged with her to intercede on his behalf to her husband.
"Not today, and not tomorrow either, may be the day after," she had answered, and he thanked her gratefully.
"Please come inside. It has become very cold now. Why fall sick too?" she pleaded to Ananthan.
"Did Ravi eat?" he asked.
"No. He said he wasn't hungry. He went to sleep."
"What about the kids?"
"They are staying at my parents’ house."
Husband and wife walked back into the house, one inconsolable, the other wondering how to console.
Someone was banging on the door intently.
"I will go," Sunanda said.
"No, that is for me," she was shaken briefly by the assuredness of his voice.
It was Narayanan, Balan's father. He had come alone instead of the scores of outraged people Ananthan expected. There was a car parked outside. It wasn't evident, in the darkness if there was anyone in it.
"Ananthanmaashe, thanks for all the help. Balan told me everything"
"How is Balan?"
"Does it matter to you?"
"I am sorry. I made a mistake," Ananthan wept inconsolably like one of the children who cried when he caned him.
"Don't worry. Balan didn't give your name to the police in his statement."
Narayanan turned around and walked.
"Master, you know, my boy still adores you. He pleaded with me not to hurt you or your brother".
Ananthan closed the door. He turned back and leaned against the door. His eyes were closed, a little in relief and almost all of it in self-pity. When his eyes opened, they fell on a Sunanda who was sobbing and Ravi who was deep in thought.
"Ananthetta, you should go back to teach. None of this was your fault", Ravi said, reading very well the thoughts preying his brother' mind.
"There is blood on my hands. The chalk will not answer my command on the blackboard."
"But your kids will starve. You should think of their future too."
"That is right. But I can't go back."
"You have to. Your kids' life depends on it."
"Then get me a transfer from here, somewhere far, far away. I hope you have the connections to get that done."
Ananthan walked off, his feet unsteady, hoping for the peace that deserted him for two blackened out days in his life's calendar. And Ravi, Ravi could feel the assured touch of loneliness, that would accompany him in this house, partly his house, now all his.
------------------------------------------------------
P.S - Some months back, a friend told me of an incident that happened in Kannur at a school where his uncle was the principal. A teacher who was a full-time politician always carried a bomb in his bag, as he feared for his life but that bomb one day exploded in class causing minor injuries and more than that, shock to the students. Then recently, i thought of the political affiliations some of the teachers in our college still maintained, and how some of them tried to manipulate us. That is from where this story took off. I would have loved to write this one in Malayalam, more so due to the story's nativity, but i had a compulsion that gave English the upperhand this time. After months of threads that broke down in "realization", I feel relieved at having overcome the bad run. As always when i take on fiction, feedback/criticism is appreciated this time too.
"Maashe, the last bell rung 10 minutes ago."
It was one of the more brazen boys in the class. Ananthan stirred from his thoughts, and looked at the boy in disapproval.
"So, what if I keep you boys back a little longer. You are students taking the public exams this year, not children in elementary school."
The cowed down boy tried to summon an expression of utter boredom to his face. All he could manage was a shake of his head, caught as he was in the unusual cold stare of his teacher.
"Class dismissed. Next class we will take up Lagrange's Theorem."
"Maashe, you covered that only yesterday," a timider voice spoke up this time.
Ananthan threw up his arms, and showed the way to the door to his surprised students.
"Sir, are you okay, you seem ill. I can give you a ride home on my moped."
"Thanks for the offer, Bala. I am fine," Ananthan said and watched as Balan trooped out with his gang of friends.
Balan was one of Ananthan's favorites not just because he was a good student. His talent in versification and essay writing had won for the school many prizes in the District Youth Festival. But what troubled Ananthan was that like many of the other senior students in the school, Balan was also getting increasingly attracted to the politics that was being unleashed at all levels of the society in the district. Democracy was slowly giving way to fascism with a fight to the finish for dominance between the Left and the Right. Political murders were happening at an alarmingly increasing frequency, a fragile peace survived; one act of aggrandizement was all it took. Balan's family had traditionally advocated Rightist politics...and Balan seemed destined to go that road too. Ananthan had advised his pupil, but was met with a stonewall, that refused to open up...perhaps it must be because I was a leftist earlier, Ananthan tried to comfort himself.
The classroom had emptied out. He pondered hard on his next act. Should he just go home or should he.....he didn’t let the thought carry itself out. With overdone effort, he pressed his palms down on the wooden desk, and raised himself from his chair. He turned to the blackboard, and began to wipe it clean, with the blackened rug that had for long begged for washing and now seemed to be threatening to stop doing its work. Ananthan took a step backwards and surveyed his efforts. A reflection of the blackboard seemed to have fallen on his face as it darkened; dismayed by the chalkmarks that still littered the board. A sudden rage stoked up in him, and with firm, wide, almost manic strokes he gleaned away the last of the white that refused to detach in his earlier attempt, from its civilizational opposite, the black. He stacked his notebooks firmly within his left arm, collected the umbrella from its resting place by the wall and strode out, forgetting to turn off the fan that wheeled on and on...
The Local Committee office was on the way to his home. It must have been almost 20 years since he last took the steps leading upto its dusty confines. Then, he was considered among the Party's most promising leaders from the district. His speeches stood out for the calm manner in which he elucidated his thoughts, in an age when only fiery speeches could win the crowds, and for the substantive ideas he seemed to possess. He had become the Local committee secretary at 25, was promoted to the Area Committee at 27 and with the District Committee, the coveted State Committee membership or a legislatorship only some years down the line, he had supposedly thrown it all away. Ananthan knew it wasn't like that. He was an accused in the first of the political murders that aroused the media interest in the district and was considered lucky to have gotten away unpunished. His young wife, Sunanda was pregnant then and miscarried, due to the stress the trial brought about. Guilt, fatigue and a lack of fulfillment from the 12 years of model political activism he strived to pursue colluded in persistent pursuit of a change of heart and he quit. He had been branded a coward and traitor...but the years had forgiven and forgotten all that was said and done. His younger brother, Ravi had taken his place in the party and Ananthan, the fledgling politician was long erased from the public mind, he was today only Ananthan Master, a well-regarded, but insignificant high school mathematics teacher in public consciousness, at the Govt. Higher Secondary School.
The Local Committee office hadn't changed in the years. Unlike the corporate dalliance the party saw at the state ad district level, the grassroots still clung to its affinity with the common man. Now, the party owned the building but continued to rent the ground floor to the small convenience store, a tea shop, and the barber who had all set shop up there for as long as he could remember. Ananthan hesitantly climbed up the stairs and lingered for a few seconds on the corridor. He peaked into the meeting room. The creaky wooden benches had given way to plastic chairs and the walls were freshly painted. On the walls, still hung the same three pictures of Marx, Engels and Lenin from his days. The secretary's room beckoned to him. He was once its occupant, now a guest, feeling his way around what was once his second, or possibly his primary address. Without knocking, he entered the room and saw the secretary, Ramankutty talking on his mobile and his brother, Ravi staring out of the window. Ravi's presence unsettled Ananthan. Ravi had more important things to do in the district or area committee than hang around this place.
Ramankutty motioned Ananthan to take a chair, switched off his phone, a broad smile taking shape on his puckered lips.
"Thank you for coming, Master."
Ananthan didn't reply but looked at Ravi, whose body language betrayed a nervousness that Ananthan tried to piece together.
"Ananthetta, sorry for bothering you. The party members here brought some troubling news which, Comrade Ramankutty and I thought, you could help resolve.
"What is it?" Ananthan could feel his stomach tighten, a sudden fear gripped him. So this was it. His worst fears were turning true.
"You know how the Right, is increasingly finding supporters among the youngsters here. We feel it is a disturbing..."
"Come, to the point Ravi!" Ananthan interrupted his brother. Why is it that politicians fail to see the beauty of keeping their talk, short and sweet, Ananthan thought?
"It has to do with your student, Balan. He is spreading their ideology among the students at your school and around where he lives. If we don’t nip this in the bud, it will be hard to put a check on his activities when he is older."
"I guessed as much. Why did you have to bring me into this? You know, I am done with politics," Ananthan couldn’t mask the displeasure he felt for his younger brother.
"Yeah, we know that. That is why we need your help," the secretary had spoken for the first time.
"I have tried to counsel him. But he won't listen to me."
"Exactly! That is why we need to talk to him. We have tried to get him alone but he moves around with a gang of his friends all the time. But he trusts you. If you can take him somewhere, we can talk to him in person. It will only do him good you know," Ravi tepidly said.
"I know what is good for him. You don't need to tell me that!" Ananthan snapped at his younger brother. The fellow was a better politician than he had thought.
"Well, don't blame me if something untoward happens. You know how things work around here. More importantly don’t blame yourself." Ravi noticed the concern that briefly escaped Ananthan as he finished his sentence.
"Ananthetta, don’t worry. We will just give him a ticking off. If that doesn’t work, let's all comfort ourselves in that he wasn't ready to change his fate."
How insensitive and arrogant had Ravi become, Ananthan thought. In a few hours they would both be back in their house and would all be a happy family. Ravi had never married, citing his party work as the sole love of his life. They lived under the same roof even after their parents had died and never thought of partitioning the inherited house and land. Ananthan's two children, Anu and Anish doted on their uncle so much, that Ananthan always wondered, why despite being a teacher he couldn't get as close to his kids as Ravi, a chronic bachelor.
"All right. I will tell Balan to drop me home tomorrow evening after school."
Ananthan walked out, not bothering to bid farewell. Ravi collapsed on a chair, he was sweating profusely...it was the first time in his life he put on the garb of a politician, to talk to his elder brother, whom he still venerated and considered as his first political guru.
"Here, drink this," the equally relieved secretary passed a tumbler containing water to Ravi.
Sunanda had observed the worry, scribbled large on Ananthan's face, but she couldn't decipher it. Nor could she connect the cold stares Ananthan kept giving Ravi, ever since he had reached home too. All night Ananthan tossed and turned in the bed, unlike the sound sleep he almost always managed to have. In the morning, Ananthan took his morning shower and skipped breakfast, like he usually did.
"Here take your books, and umbrella." Sunanda came running after Ananthan, who absently turned around, collected his belongings and walked, without acknowledging her.
A sigh of despair overcame her. Why is it that men seemed to carry all the weight of the world on their shoulders, she wondered. Her thoughts turned around to her children getting ready for school. Their lunch had yet to be readied. They studied at a different school from Ananthan's, a better school, a private school. Ravi was the one who forcefully advocated that...so much for socialism, Ananthan had thought before finally yielding.
"Bala, I am still feeling unwell. Can you drop me at my house after school."
"Of course, Master.'
"Thank you, Bala."
The rest of the day went by as fast as Ananthan would have loved it to slow down. It had to be done. Balan's zeal, courage and strength would only increase in the years to come and it would only put his life in danger. There wasn’t much point in talking to the parents. Most kids with such early political leanings pick it up only from home and with the encouragement of their parents. Ananthan knew this well, he and Ravi were prime examples.
The pillion was a little too small, but Balan slid forward to make more space for Ananthan. They took off with Balan riding slower than usual. This was a big day for him, and a big honour. He had seen Ananthan Master walking home a few times when he took this route which lead to a friend's house, but he never took up the ride Balan offered.
"Maashe, this is the first time i am giving a teacher a ride.'
"Hmmm."
"Maashe, have you corrected the mid-term papers?"
"Yes. You have done very well. You should be getting it the day after. I have a few more to valuate."
"Thank You." The thrill from Balan's cracked voice made Ananthan's heart cringe.
"Why this cup of woes for me, G-G-G-God," Ananthan mused wearily. From believer to atheist to agnost to hesitant believer again, his faith had completed a full orbit around his life.
In the distance, a jeep lay parked by the roadside. Three men could be seen leaning against it facing them. As they got closer, a sudden fear enveloped Balan. A sudden knowledge of what was about to befall hit him and he slowed the moped down. His parents and partymen had regularly warned him over the last few months of a 'quotation' put out for him by the Left's goonda squads. He went home or went out with a group of fellow-men and always kept a tight guard when having to go it alone. Ananthan saw the men too at the same instant and knew they were spotted. Balan tried to turn around.
"What are you doing?" Ananthan asked. The histrionic talents of his youth were back. Ananthan thought disgustedly.
"Maashe, they are men after me. I can't get caught."
"Don't worry I am there." Ananthan tried to calm his pupil.
The three men, now joined by a forth unseen before, came running at breakneck speed.
"We have been waiting for you, you bastard," one of them shouted as they caught up. Ass-oles, Ananthan thought. They had given away their game even before it started. These were not the genuine party-men who would have been much smarter than this...these were the clinger-on rogues with no work to do, that were highly valued these days by politicians, for doing their dirty spadework.
"How did you know I am coming this way?" Balan shot back.
Ananthan's heart sank with the question. Balan would have been a fool not to miss the betrayal now and Ananthan knew Balan was anything but a fool.
"Sonofabitch, you have hardly sprouted a moustache and you have begun to wisetalk to elders too," one of the men said in a harsh tone.
'Move back. Let me speak," the forth man whom they hadn’t spotted initially came forward. He had a pleasanter demeanor than the other three. Ananthan recognized him as Ashokan, who had begun party work around the time he had begun too. Not even bothering to acknowledge Ananthan he placed his calloused fingers across Balan's cheeks.
"We are being told you are increasingly becoming a smart-ass. Stop involving in your kiddy-politics, study well, find a job and escape from here. Else you are going to die and that too in pain.
"I would welcome a death like that from you monsters with open arms."
A warm smile appeared on the man's face.
"Stop playing hero, kid. This is not personal. This is politics and this is the politics your people would deal, to one of ours too. I too have kids, but I have warned them to stay off this game of death. I just extend the same threat to you, as a father would."
"Thanks for your fatherly concern, mister. Now if you could excuse us...I have better things to do," Balan smirked.
This was a mistake. The smile disappeared from the man's face and Ananthan cowered as a murderous intent replaced it. He slapped Balan, hard on his face. Balan fell off the moped and with him the moped and Ananthan too hit the ground.
"Is that the best, you could give me," Balan responded gamely.
"Stop it Bala. You are provoking them needlessly," Ananthan pleaded.
"I have waited for this day, all my life, Master. For how long can I hide?"
The four men went berserk at that moment, pounced on Balan, and began kicking him mercilessly.
Ananthan cried and begged but was shaken off by the fourth man who pushed him away as the other three, unleashed their powerful blows on the now bleeding boy.
A few people were coming. One of the men, ran to the jeep, reversed it, the other three men, caught hold of Ananthan Master, threw him into the jeep and sped off.
"Wait. Let me out. I need to take him to the hospital."
"There are other people for that. We will take you home after some time. He will be well cared for."
They dropped Ananthan off at his home after a few hours.
Ravi was waiting on the verandah. He had already heard the news. A look of apology, and a tint of shame was writ all over his face.
"Ananthetta, i am sorry things turned out this way."
"You promised me you won’t hurt him."
"Things got out of hand. The men were provoked very badly."
"Your ideology does allow for violence. But against a young, defenseless boy?"
Ravi kept quiet. He knew his brother would never forgive him for this.
"We are all worse than animals. You betrayed a brother. I betrayed a student."
Night had set in. Ananthan paced restlessly on the frontyard, wondering how hurt was Balan. The sky had an ashen colour, thanks to the thick clouds, which veiled the moon, away from prying eyes, to the verge of opacity. Ravi had forbid him from going to the hospital where the rightist activists had begun talking of revenge. The police had visited and taken Balan's statement according to a journalist Ravi had called up. Sunanda had heard all that happened, from Ravi who begged with her to intercede on his behalf to her husband.
"Not today, and not tomorrow either, may be the day after," she had answered, and he thanked her gratefully.
"Please come inside. It has become very cold now. Why fall sick too?" she pleaded to Ananthan.
"Did Ravi eat?" he asked.
"No. He said he wasn't hungry. He went to sleep."
"What about the kids?"
"They are staying at my parents’ house."
Husband and wife walked back into the house, one inconsolable, the other wondering how to console.
Someone was banging on the door intently.
"I will go," Sunanda said.
"No, that is for me," she was shaken briefly by the assuredness of his voice.
It was Narayanan, Balan's father. He had come alone instead of the scores of outraged people Ananthan expected. There was a car parked outside. It wasn't evident, in the darkness if there was anyone in it.
"Ananthanmaashe, thanks for all the help. Balan told me everything"
"How is Balan?"
"Does it matter to you?"
"I am sorry. I made a mistake," Ananthan wept inconsolably like one of the children who cried when he caned him.
"Don't worry. Balan didn't give your name to the police in his statement."
Narayanan turned around and walked.
"Master, you know, my boy still adores you. He pleaded with me not to hurt you or your brother".
Ananthan closed the door. He turned back and leaned against the door. His eyes were closed, a little in relief and almost all of it in self-pity. When his eyes opened, they fell on a Sunanda who was sobbing and Ravi who was deep in thought.
"Ananthetta, you should go back to teach. None of this was your fault", Ravi said, reading very well the thoughts preying his brother' mind.
"There is blood on my hands. The chalk will not answer my command on the blackboard."
"But your kids will starve. You should think of their future too."
"That is right. But I can't go back."
"You have to. Your kids' life depends on it."
"Then get me a transfer from here, somewhere far, far away. I hope you have the connections to get that done."
Ananthan walked off, his feet unsteady, hoping for the peace that deserted him for two blackened out days in his life's calendar. And Ravi, Ravi could feel the assured touch of loneliness, that would accompany him in this house, partly his house, now all his.
------------------------------------------------------
P.S - Some months back, a friend told me of an incident that happened in Kannur at a school where his uncle was the principal. A teacher who was a full-time politician always carried a bomb in his bag, as he feared for his life but that bomb one day exploded in class causing minor injuries and more than that, shock to the students. Then recently, i thought of the political affiliations some of the teachers in our college still maintained, and how some of them tried to manipulate us. That is from where this story took off. I would have loved to write this one in Malayalam, more so due to the story's nativity, but i had a compulsion that gave English the upperhand this time. After months of threads that broke down in "realization", I feel relieved at having overcome the bad run. As always when i take on fiction, feedback/criticism is appreciated this time too.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Cheer Loyola's Sons!!!
The UPSC results are out. Three Loyolites crowned years and years of toil by snatching three of the top ten ranks in the country. More details at Ashok's blog. People as undisciplined and haphazard as me can only dream of what they achieved...my forms got delayed in the mail and didnt reach on time...so this year's attempt just like 2006 was a flop show. I don't know if I have it in me to try one more time. Hope Pappanabhan becomes the person to bring the upsc glory to our batch. A decade and half of fascination with the engineering and medicine streams, seems to be over at Loyola...I came across many juniors who have been goin about their preps in right earnest and look set to repeat the achievement of these three.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
World Political Roundup...
Am back to regular newspaper reading after a long long time...its a wretched world of politics out there...had enough matter to write on atleast 15 of the states in the indian union and an equal number of countries in the world...but for the moment this will do...my hands have itched to do some writing and after all, politics is a resort for every scoundrel around...so how can I be left out!
UP Elections...No Lesser Devils Here
Those who even casually follow the Uttar Pradesh assembly elections will know sure enough that it is an indicator of the depths to which the Indian democracy has plunged. The BJP and BSP have brought out CD's that urge people to vote on religious and caste lines, the Samajwadi Party of Mulayam Singh Yadav after 5 years of misrule and corruption shamelessly believe they are still the best of the lot, the Congress has thrown out its future face, Rahul Gandhi into the political minefield and on expected lines the cow-dung littered cow-belt has become a happy hunting ground for this St.Stephens-Harvard(or is it Cambridge!) educated future Prime Minister's to land his cold feet in, with innumerable gaffes...the way he, his mom and sis shamelessly remind people of the Gandhi-Nehru legacy is embarrassing to say the least. The Election Commission's deployment of paramilitary forces was the saving grace...now when can we see electoral reforms that firmly uncloak the politician's garb from criminals...will it happen in our lifetimes?
Smart CM!!!
VS Achuthanandan after almost torpedoing the crucial Smart City project achieved the impossible by forcing the DIC to come around to agreeing to most of the conditions his team set for them. I feel sorry now for Oommen Chandy who is fumbling now to come forth with an answer for why he couldnt project the same unbending attitude VS showed...the fact is he didnt have the time in an election year, and more importantly he took the attitude of "Beggars cant be choosers". It remains to be seen if the govt can maintain its 25% stake in the project as it keeps getting bigger..after all we have a treasury which is forever on the verge of default...the news that the Cochin Infopark cannot repay its loans to KSIDC just made the rounds. Anyways alls well that ends well!
Pushing Bush...
So what if the American people gave the Democrats a clear mandate in both the Senate and the House of Representatives to withdraw from the Iraq War. He can just shirk the democratic lasso on his cowboy act by a mere veto. If there is one quality you gotta praise him for...that is his steadfastness. His defense of Attorney General Gonsalvez and World Bank President Wolfowitz, two cronies of his, even in the face of their proven misdemeanor could be praised/condemned depending on which side of the political spectrum you vouch for. This is one man who just cant see the clear writing on the wall and wants to go down as the worst US president ever. Elsewhere his party's nominees for the next prez elections fumble everywhere while the Clinton-Obama-Edwards triumvirate are breaking records by the dozen in their fundraising act.
Who's Afraid of India...
The Indo-US nuclear deal was a milestone...the only problem is it came up in a dead alley. India cant conduct anymore nuclear tests which speaks miles for Developed World hypocrisy/snobbery and neither can we reprocess spent nuclear fuel. America maynot be the last word in business anymore but energy companies here know that if India with its huge thorium reserves uses the reprocessed fuel they are losing a huge huge market for years and years to come. Cheers to the two Indian scientists, Kakodkar and Chidambaram who stood up to the Goliath even while the PM and bureaucracy beamed like schoolboys at the press-photographers.
The Stakes in Africa...
Indians, Chinese, Americans, Saudis...it seems the whole world has a stake in the poorest continent on Earth. Indians continue to face the heat in Uganda, elsewhere in Africa(i forget the countries) China is facing trouble for economic-exploitation. Reading about Darfur is a sure-shot way to feel despair at the politics and apathy that the capable world displays in putting an end, to worthless violence for the capture of a region that cud be the closest place on earth to biblical hell.
Judicious Activism!!!
Manmohan has never been a fan of PIL's and the Judiciary's enormous appetite to intrude into the turf of the Executive-Legislature turf has vexed him often. But when ministers-bureacrats-legislators gang up against the common man it is only fitting that the same loopholes which allow the unholy trio to sin without fear of the law allows the judiciary to take up cudgels for citizens without fear of the vague laws in the constitution that determines its scope of functioning. Kudos to the men in black and white who have thrown a challenge to caste-appeasing politics of OBC reservation. At the end the government and Thakur Arjun will win...but I hope to see the creamy layer denied easy skimmings of a pie they were waiting to lap up in a country that will never see meritocracy functioning, thanks to a wretched past which everyone seems wanting to preserve for the present and the future.
Tony Blair, Goodbye...
In 1997, when a youthful looking man who defied the cliched description of the stiff upper-lipped Englishman, took over the reins of England, a few years after a handsome, charismatic Clinton arrived on the scene across the Atlantic in an America poised to go into the millennium, i watched with gushing admiration his inaugural speech in Parliament to Britons on BBC unveiling his concepts of New Labour, at a time when septuagenarian H.D.Deve Gowda slept and tripped through his tenure as India's PM. Of course, not many would have noticed, in that speech he spoke a sentence of how England would have to piggyback on the US to maintain its relevance in international affairs. It is a pity, that this wise man kept his word so seriously that he followed one of the most stupid men around, George W. Bush into a needless war that today leaves him a mere shadow of the fresh-faced statesman he was touted to become 10 years ago.
Preparing for Post-Mushy Pak...
Its official. Gen.Mush is getting increasingly cornered. After suspending his Chief Justice and then getting him manhandled, followed by capitulation to a set of clerics who fatwa'ed his minister for an innocuous hug and now increasing criticism for Pakistan's withdrawal from its own territory, Waziristan for the Al-Qaeda-Taliban duo to run free...if Pakistan's next leader is a Mullah, it will be a situation India hasnt faced before...dealing with a theocrat in a nuclear-possessing rogue state. Will soft-spoken Manmohan, crowd-savvy Vajpayee, baby-faced Rahul or Loha-Purush Advani measure up...
UP Elections...No Lesser Devils Here
Those who even casually follow the Uttar Pradesh assembly elections will know sure enough that it is an indicator of the depths to which the Indian democracy has plunged. The BJP and BSP have brought out CD's that urge people to vote on religious and caste lines, the Samajwadi Party of Mulayam Singh Yadav after 5 years of misrule and corruption shamelessly believe they are still the best of the lot, the Congress has thrown out its future face, Rahul Gandhi into the political minefield and on expected lines the cow-dung littered cow-belt has become a happy hunting ground for this St.Stephens-Harvard(or is it Cambridge!) educated future Prime Minister's to land his cold feet in, with innumerable gaffes...the way he, his mom and sis shamelessly remind people of the Gandhi-Nehru legacy is embarrassing to say the least. The Election Commission's deployment of paramilitary forces was the saving grace...now when can we see electoral reforms that firmly uncloak the politician's garb from criminals...will it happen in our lifetimes?
Smart CM!!!
VS Achuthanandan after almost torpedoing the crucial Smart City project achieved the impossible by forcing the DIC to come around to agreeing to most of the conditions his team set for them. I feel sorry now for Oommen Chandy who is fumbling now to come forth with an answer for why he couldnt project the same unbending attitude VS showed...the fact is he didnt have the time in an election year, and more importantly he took the attitude of "Beggars cant be choosers". It remains to be seen if the govt can maintain its 25% stake in the project as it keeps getting bigger..after all we have a treasury which is forever on the verge of default...the news that the Cochin Infopark cannot repay its loans to KSIDC just made the rounds. Anyways alls well that ends well!
Pushing Bush...
So what if the American people gave the Democrats a clear mandate in both the Senate and the House of Representatives to withdraw from the Iraq War. He can just shirk the democratic lasso on his cowboy act by a mere veto. If there is one quality you gotta praise him for...that is his steadfastness. His defense of Attorney General Gonsalvez and World Bank President Wolfowitz, two cronies of his, even in the face of their proven misdemeanor could be praised/condemned depending on which side of the political spectrum you vouch for. This is one man who just cant see the clear writing on the wall and wants to go down as the worst US president ever. Elsewhere his party's nominees for the next prez elections fumble everywhere while the Clinton-Obama-Edwards triumvirate are breaking records by the dozen in their fundraising act.
Who's Afraid of India...
The Indo-US nuclear deal was a milestone...the only problem is it came up in a dead alley. India cant conduct anymore nuclear tests which speaks miles for Developed World hypocrisy/snobbery and neither can we reprocess spent nuclear fuel. America maynot be the last word in business anymore but energy companies here know that if India with its huge thorium reserves uses the reprocessed fuel they are losing a huge huge market for years and years to come. Cheers to the two Indian scientists, Kakodkar and Chidambaram who stood up to the Goliath even while the PM and bureaucracy beamed like schoolboys at the press-photographers.
The Stakes in Africa...
Indians, Chinese, Americans, Saudis...it seems the whole world has a stake in the poorest continent on Earth. Indians continue to face the heat in Uganda, elsewhere in Africa(i forget the countries) China is facing trouble for economic-exploitation. Reading about Darfur is a sure-shot way to feel despair at the politics and apathy that the capable world displays in putting an end, to worthless violence for the capture of a region that cud be the closest place on earth to biblical hell.
Judicious Activism!!!
Manmohan has never been a fan of PIL's and the Judiciary's enormous appetite to intrude into the turf of the Executive-Legislature turf has vexed him often. But when ministers-bureacrats-legislators gang up against the common man it is only fitting that the same loopholes which allow the unholy trio to sin without fear of the law allows the judiciary to take up cudgels for citizens without fear of the vague laws in the constitution that determines its scope of functioning. Kudos to the men in black and white who have thrown a challenge to caste-appeasing politics of OBC reservation. At the end the government and Thakur Arjun will win...but I hope to see the creamy layer denied easy skimmings of a pie they were waiting to lap up in a country that will never see meritocracy functioning, thanks to a wretched past which everyone seems wanting to preserve for the present and the future.
Tony Blair, Goodbye...
In 1997, when a youthful looking man who defied the cliched description of the stiff upper-lipped Englishman, took over the reins of England, a few years after a handsome, charismatic Clinton arrived on the scene across the Atlantic in an America poised to go into the millennium, i watched with gushing admiration his inaugural speech in Parliament to Britons on BBC unveiling his concepts of New Labour, at a time when septuagenarian H.D.Deve Gowda slept and tripped through his tenure as India's PM. Of course, not many would have noticed, in that speech he spoke a sentence of how England would have to piggyback on the US to maintain its relevance in international affairs. It is a pity, that this wise man kept his word so seriously that he followed one of the most stupid men around, George W. Bush into a needless war that today leaves him a mere shadow of the fresh-faced statesman he was touted to become 10 years ago.
Preparing for Post-Mushy Pak...
Its official. Gen.Mush is getting increasingly cornered. After suspending his Chief Justice and then getting him manhandled, followed by capitulation to a set of clerics who fatwa'ed his minister for an innocuous hug and now increasing criticism for Pakistan's withdrawal from its own territory, Waziristan for the Al-Qaeda-Taliban duo to run free...if Pakistan's next leader is a Mullah, it will be a situation India hasnt faced before...dealing with a theocrat in a nuclear-possessing rogue state. Will soft-spoken Manmohan, crowd-savvy Vajpayee, baby-faced Rahul or Loha-Purush Advani measure up...
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Bawling for Columbine...
Maybe because America is such a developed country, maybe because America trusts its citizens, but I still find no rational rationale to give people guns to safeguard their lives. This is a country that is as safe as it can get...a police force which inspires respect and awe for their patrolling and service to community, citizens who follow every rule almost to the point of perfection, laws that attempt to keep cigarettes, alcohol and drugs away from youngsters below 21...but this is also a country with a lot of people who are mentally sick and guns neither protect nor provide any form of defence from them. A fortnight ago, I read this short story and it refused to leave me...and then yesterday happened.
Last weekend, I saw not one, but two gun shops right outside a friend's apartment. The scene evoked horror in my eyes...after all why do citizens need guns in a democracy, aint their voice and votes more powerful? It is time America's wise politicians decided to sweep aside the power of the gun lobby.
Last weekend, I saw not one, but two gun shops right outside a friend's apartment. The scene evoked horror in my eyes...after all why do citizens need guns in a democracy, aint their voice and votes more powerful? It is time America's wise politicians decided to sweep aside the power of the gun lobby.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
A Kerala Phenom...
How i wish I could pull off some magic and flesh out a post, off nothing. The cupboard is bare, every story begun winds up unfinished, a long list of such broken threads await my review and reworking. Sometime early last year, a resolve that every post on this blog should also give me creative satisfaction surreptitiously crept in, and seems to have influenced my mindset, i began to see myself as something more than a blogger and the opinions, commentaries and observations on daily life and happenings gradually ebbed out. I am tired of my folks and surprisingly even an anonymous reader asking me why nothing new has come out...well the cloud just doesnt lift but here's something for you all to read and forget...a post i wrote a long back, but just didnt find good enough to publish then...well Vishu is almost here, we are planning a sadya, what might just be missing is the mundu.
Move over jeans, khakis, chinos and whatever new fashions yet to come out...the pride of place in my wardrobe is a cream-coloured thin fabric, almost 2 metres long, folded in two, a thin band of gold streaking down its width, a few inches from the edge, All over India, urban dressing has undergone a seachange in the last 20 years. The North India dhoti has become a dress meant to wear only on religious and festive occasions and that too mostly for the tradition-minded. And that is where coming to Kerala brings a smile to my face...for most youngsters wearing a mundu is as much a lifestyle statement as wearing a jeans/t-shirt. The first item on my shopping list when i reached trivandrum last time was to buy a kasavu mundu and i walked into karalkada, a shop that has for decades been the much-vaunted destination for mundu's and set sarees. In place of their old shop which was steeped in traditionalism with kerala architecture in wood and customers sitting on the floor, i found to my dismay a modern shopping arcade, all airconditioned and looking just like any other garment shop in the city. The price-range made my heart sink...all their good mundus came priced in the 800-plus range while real crap stuff came at Rs.200 and with a sinking feeling i wondered how many ordinary folk whose pride and culture would not allow them to settle for cheap stuff could anymore afford this place.
So i got mine from a cooperative khadi store near my house, a really good one at just Rs.300 and proudly put it on and went for onasadyas, cinemas, outings to the bar, wherever possible to my hearts content. Our household help remarked to me, "Mone ithaa cherunnathe, pantum jeansine kaalum". I could just quip, "Enna cheyyaana chechi, kaalam maariyille. Ennum ithitte nadakkandathaayirunnu njanokke". Its not just me...almost all my friends love to wear it as much as possible, i go to any of their houses, from kerala to delhi to new york, and they have a stock of lungis or ottamundus that they keep so that guests can change to, for the night. The first time i wore a lungi was sometime in the 9th, a signal to my parents i had come of age, but like the by-now-beaten-to-death aphorism of malayali productivity being so low coz 90% of time being spent in tying and untying the lungi, the first year continued true to that saying.
I remember in college we even had a strike once coz some evangelist christian management in kerala banned the mundu in their college and suspended students for wearing that, the rage on everyones faces was so real, seeing the unison with which warring student parties chanted their "Vidyarthi Aikyam Zindabad" slogans made us laugh our heart out. And when I look at college snaps I noticed, not without a slight tinge of envy how one of my classmates, Kannan, an sfi leader, was always to be seen in a mundu unlike us sayyips. Once chanced to read a tamilian blogger, pretty much parochial in a lot what he wrote, yet grudgingly admit Kerala happens to be the only state in the south where traditional attire still holds sway among the youth. Had a debate with a bengali friend who mocked me for wearing a lungi, and i responded saying he was jealous coz the bengali dhoti was unfashionable. He took offence and said for them its very much in fashion, but coz its a little cumbersome they have readymade ones available in the market, but as a result the art of learning to tie it would soon get forgotten. But victory was mine as he admitted it had gone out of everyday usage by youth.
The mundu continues to hold a high place in kerala's popular culture too. Without a doubt, an actor of Mohanlal's standing has boosted the continued sexiness and comeliness of the mundu in malayali men's eyes through countless popular films like Sphadikam, Aaraam Thampuran, Narasimham, etc, etc. The trend continues to the next generation too with Prithviraj donning the mundu with elan in the recent blockbuster, Classmates and the critically acclaimed, Vasthavam. Even some women continue to be partial to it as i found out recently...we were talking about the recent sherwani rage in malalayali weddings and my sis threatened to show me the door if i came wearing something like that to her or my marriage! I have been digging around for topics close to the heart that still remain unsaid, to keep this blog ticking, until a friend phoned and amidst our conversation he remarked his idea of giving a set saree as a gift to his gori mem fizzled out as his cousin reminded him that it was an act akin to pudava-kodukkals! Poor poor mallu boys...maybe i should write a post soon on continuing traditions in multi-cultural setups!
P.S - More of these discarded write-ups should be coming out now from their folder close to the recycle bin. From now on i will use them to intersperse the dry periods. Hope everyone had a good easter...wish you all a Happy Vishu! Here is one of the best ever posts i have seen in blogosphere. Its written by an ABCD mallu...am not much of a fan of the american way of writing but this one was different and sucked me right in.
Move over jeans, khakis, chinos and whatever new fashions yet to come out...the pride of place in my wardrobe is a cream-coloured thin fabric, almost 2 metres long, folded in two, a thin band of gold streaking down its width, a few inches from the edge, All over India, urban dressing has undergone a seachange in the last 20 years. The North India dhoti has become a dress meant to wear only on religious and festive occasions and that too mostly for the tradition-minded. And that is where coming to Kerala brings a smile to my face...for most youngsters wearing a mundu is as much a lifestyle statement as wearing a jeans/t-shirt. The first item on my shopping list when i reached trivandrum last time was to buy a kasavu mundu and i walked into karalkada, a shop that has for decades been the much-vaunted destination for mundu's and set sarees. In place of their old shop which was steeped in traditionalism with kerala architecture in wood and customers sitting on the floor, i found to my dismay a modern shopping arcade, all airconditioned and looking just like any other garment shop in the city. The price-range made my heart sink...all their good mundus came priced in the 800-plus range while real crap stuff came at Rs.200 and with a sinking feeling i wondered how many ordinary folk whose pride and culture would not allow them to settle for cheap stuff could anymore afford this place.
So i got mine from a cooperative khadi store near my house, a really good one at just Rs.300 and proudly put it on and went for onasadyas, cinemas, outings to the bar, wherever possible to my hearts content. Our household help remarked to me, "Mone ithaa cherunnathe, pantum jeansine kaalum". I could just quip, "Enna cheyyaana chechi, kaalam maariyille. Ennum ithitte nadakkandathaayirunnu njanokke". Its not just me...almost all my friends love to wear it as much as possible, i go to any of their houses, from kerala to delhi to new york, and they have a stock of lungis or ottamundus that they keep so that guests can change to, for the night. The first time i wore a lungi was sometime in the 9th, a signal to my parents i had come of age, but like the by-now-beaten-to-death aphorism of malayali productivity being so low coz 90% of time being spent in tying and untying the lungi, the first year continued true to that saying.
I remember in college we even had a strike once coz some evangelist christian management in kerala banned the mundu in their college and suspended students for wearing that, the rage on everyones faces was so real, seeing the unison with which warring student parties chanted their "Vidyarthi Aikyam Zindabad" slogans made us laugh our heart out. And when I look at college snaps I noticed, not without a slight tinge of envy how one of my classmates, Kannan, an sfi leader, was always to be seen in a mundu unlike us sayyips. Once chanced to read a tamilian blogger, pretty much parochial in a lot what he wrote, yet grudgingly admit Kerala happens to be the only state in the south where traditional attire still holds sway among the youth. Had a debate with a bengali friend who mocked me for wearing a lungi, and i responded saying he was jealous coz the bengali dhoti was unfashionable. He took offence and said for them its very much in fashion, but coz its a little cumbersome they have readymade ones available in the market, but as a result the art of learning to tie it would soon get forgotten. But victory was mine as he admitted it had gone out of everyday usage by youth.
The mundu continues to hold a high place in kerala's popular culture too. Without a doubt, an actor of Mohanlal's standing has boosted the continued sexiness and comeliness of the mundu in malayali men's eyes through countless popular films like Sphadikam, Aaraam Thampuran, Narasimham, etc, etc. The trend continues to the next generation too with Prithviraj donning the mundu with elan in the recent blockbuster, Classmates and the critically acclaimed, Vasthavam. Even some women continue to be partial to it as i found out recently...we were talking about the recent sherwani rage in malalayali weddings and my sis threatened to show me the door if i came wearing something like that to her or my marriage! I have been digging around for topics close to the heart that still remain unsaid, to keep this blog ticking, until a friend phoned and amidst our conversation he remarked his idea of giving a set saree as a gift to his gori mem fizzled out as his cousin reminded him that it was an act akin to pudava-kodukkals! Poor poor mallu boys...maybe i should write a post soon on continuing traditions in multi-cultural setups!
P.S - More of these discarded write-ups should be coming out now from their folder close to the recycle bin. From now on i will use them to intersperse the dry periods. Hope everyone had a good easter...wish you all a Happy Vishu! Here is one of the best ever posts i have seen in blogosphere. Its written by an ABCD mallu...am not much of a fan of the american way of writing but this one was different and sucked me right in.
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