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!
Monday, June 18, 2007
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.
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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.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Summers, Bygone, Forever...
Thank you very much, Silverine, for this wonderful tag. I have been itching to do a tag for a long time...even thought of doing the tags i forewent, but tags have this perishable quality of having to be done fresh, in sync with all the blog-pals.
When does summer start for people in trivandrum...4 buses loaded with brats from Loyola School shouting "Happy, Holidays" at the top of their young lungs all along the ananthapuri veethikal until the last kid is offloaded!!!
The Ugly...
The terror of having to wait a month till mid-April to know if i passed my finals. I was a touch-and-go student all through school. There was always a family trip to Velankanni to pray i pass. The worst part was having a sister whose big worry was getting the first rank or not!!!
The Bad...
Unarguably the best library in town, the Loyola School Library didnt lend books to us during summer. Until the Eloor Lending Library opened we had to be content with the slim pickings at the Public Library and the British Library.
The Good...
1. Flatmates
We lived in a housing colony with almost two dozen children, both small kids, big kids and college kids...all regardless of age buzzing with potential energy ready to implode if not exploded. Almost all of us had working parents and we kids had a jungle, 2 tiny parks,a 100 metre straight stretch of private road at Pattom Junction as our backyard for playspace. So many games, cricket, football, kabaddi, even hockey, and when the gals too insisted on playing there was hide and seek, lock and key, seven-tiles, eripanthe, badminton, kite-flying, etc, etc! We wouldnt come home even at night, and parents eager to catch atleast a lone glimpse of us for the day, had to venture out, chase us and herd us back into our cages...as we tearfully bid farewell to each other, like lambs to a slaughter-house.
2. Native Places -
Kattanam and Arakulam, my two lost native villages...one of the things i am most thankful to my parents are despite all our entreaties, forcing us to go there and live...the flavour of village life i got there, will i ever get to taste again...only time can tell. My sister always tells me, i have never written a post to outdo this one...it popped out somehow from my sub-conscious, i reminescent fondly of as my days as a fresh blogger, with no dearth of topics to write on, while nowadays i increasingly feel jaded, struggling to strike new ground with each post...and i concede i will never ever be able to write anything better. I have so much more to write on those places, had a selfish intent not to list some of the stuff we did there, as it is fodder for another post.
At Kattanam
- walking thru the paadam, looking proudly at my appachan toiling daily, but glad that my mom did good and bailed out
- earnestly looking all day at the lone village road which ended at our house for some guest.
- kanji in the afternoon made by ammachi, sitting alongside the farmhands, making sense of their chatter, a plaavila in hand magnifying the taste a million times over
- Huddle around the women at dusk...listen to them gossipping, telling old stories, etc, etc
- The varaal fish caught fresh from the small streams...had as curry with the kappa ammachi proudly nurtured
- a pleasure for now...feeling the coolness of the rudoxide flooring, imagining the layout of our old house and the farm and remembering all the things we did there
Well if you thought my ammachi was just a farmer's wife...be ready for this. Well my sweetheart is now an Internet Superstar...
At Arakulam
- Listening to the sound of the creek flowing by our thottam
- Hunting for kuzhiyaanas with mom
- Reading a year's balaramas and pumbattas which our cousins subscribed to, but denied to us back at home...coz pops believed comics and cartoons were no good...of course Misha was an honourable exception to the rule.
- Reading novels and short stories my dad and uncles studied in college
- Listen in rapt attention to ammachi's recounting of my dad's heroics, grandpa's villainy, great grandpa's enterprise and the mahakavi's fame
- Live in mortal dread of the rain, thunder, lightning and urulepottal which always seems to claim quite a few lives on every visit there
- A Silence which lets you hear, then see, then feel a Nature our kids might never know off again...
3. VenalMazha - Towards the end of April or beginning of May a totally unexpected rain showers on us trivandrum residents. With the sun in full blast, the dust in full flight, the sweatglands working-overtime as salt factories, comes a gift from the heavens on Ganapathi's wedding, more refreshing for the mind and body, if caught in this tender rain than any water-park of human devise.
4. Camps - A semi-mad, retired colonel in TVM cooked up this idea of a personality development summer camp...my sis and i found ourselves going reluctanly, but amongst a new set of boys and gals i saw all my latent talents in writing, elocution, quizzing and sports come gushing out...cloud nine and seventh heaven just become pale adjectives to describe how a sad, spindly, introverted boy on earth feels when catapulted to overnight stardom...i ended up best camper in my second year there, but continued as a cropper when back after summer at my illustrious school amongst my accomplished classmates. But the camp was a harbinger for life to come, college saw me break out of the last of my self-inflicted barriers. jibs...when down and out, never ever lose hope in fresh beginnings, dude.
5. Beer - Summers at college was a bad bad time. College closes in March for study-leave, but we neither studied nor did anything worthwhile, sat twiddling our thumbs at home, the exams beginning in mid-April and sometimes even overlapping to June was a time for hectic exam-eve study, xeroxing and sleeping blissfully. Yet we would venture out, sometimes to the movies, otherwise sweating on the cricket ground and savoring the drink that most symbolizes college-life, beer. Yummm...i still can relish the taste of hundreds and hundreds of kingfishers guzzled in those 4 years.
6. Coolness,A 2007 Story - A summer of 1992, when i first set unbelieving blinking eyes on the big home my parents had built, i realized i had been denied a lot of cool stuff other kids my age grew up with like toys, comic books, bicycles, video games, etc, etc all which my young but receptive mind assumed we just were not in a position to afford. My parents had turned me on the path of knowledge...observing people, reading encyclopedias, novels, newspapers...even today i fail to relate with swanky cars, new-age gizmos, designer wear, big money, etc, etc. In this era it might be a huge failing and i may be an odd one out...a constant struggle to define myself and my coolness quotient goes on...watching my life play out, waiting for the surprises in store. A whole new theater of activity awaits me this summer...before the curtain downs on a season of warmth, an incubation period goes on, i expect to be hatched a new person when Fall befalls. Wonder what's in store...
Well here goes the list of folks yet to be tagged with this one...Arun Hari, Dhanush, Flaash, Pappanabhan, Rajesh, Sarah and Thanu...Enjoy!
When does summer start for people in trivandrum...4 buses loaded with brats from Loyola School shouting "Happy, Holidays" at the top of their young lungs all along the ananthapuri veethikal until the last kid is offloaded!!!
The Ugly...
The terror of having to wait a month till mid-April to know if i passed my finals. I was a touch-and-go student all through school. There was always a family trip to Velankanni to pray i pass. The worst part was having a sister whose big worry was getting the first rank or not!!!
The Bad...
Unarguably the best library in town, the Loyola School Library didnt lend books to us during summer. Until the Eloor Lending Library opened we had to be content with the slim pickings at the Public Library and the British Library.
The Good...
1. Flatmates
We lived in a housing colony with almost two dozen children, both small kids, big kids and college kids...all regardless of age buzzing with potential energy ready to implode if not exploded. Almost all of us had working parents and we kids had a jungle, 2 tiny parks,a 100 metre straight stretch of private road at Pattom Junction as our backyard for playspace. So many games, cricket, football, kabaddi, even hockey, and when the gals too insisted on playing there was hide and seek, lock and key, seven-tiles, eripanthe, badminton, kite-flying, etc, etc! We wouldnt come home even at night, and parents eager to catch atleast a lone glimpse of us for the day, had to venture out, chase us and herd us back into our cages...as we tearfully bid farewell to each other, like lambs to a slaughter-house.
2. Native Places -
Kattanam and Arakulam, my two lost native villages...one of the things i am most thankful to my parents are despite all our entreaties, forcing us to go there and live...the flavour of village life i got there, will i ever get to taste again...only time can tell. My sister always tells me, i have never written a post to outdo this one...it popped out somehow from my sub-conscious, i reminescent fondly of as my days as a fresh blogger, with no dearth of topics to write on, while nowadays i increasingly feel jaded, struggling to strike new ground with each post...and i concede i will never ever be able to write anything better. I have so much more to write on those places, had a selfish intent not to list some of the stuff we did there, as it is fodder for another post.
At Kattanam
- walking thru the paadam, looking proudly at my appachan toiling daily, but glad that my mom did good and bailed out
- earnestly looking all day at the lone village road which ended at our house for some guest.
- kanji in the afternoon made by ammachi, sitting alongside the farmhands, making sense of their chatter, a plaavila in hand magnifying the taste a million times over
- Huddle around the women at dusk...listen to them gossipping, telling old stories, etc, etc
- The varaal fish caught fresh from the small streams...had as curry with the kappa ammachi proudly nurtured
- a pleasure for now...feeling the coolness of the rudoxide flooring, imagining the layout of our old house and the farm and remembering all the things we did there
Well if you thought my ammachi was just a farmer's wife...be ready for this. Well my sweetheart is now an Internet Superstar...
At Arakulam
- Listening to the sound of the creek flowing by our thottam
- Hunting for kuzhiyaanas with mom
- Reading a year's balaramas and pumbattas which our cousins subscribed to, but denied to us back at home...coz pops believed comics and cartoons were no good...of course Misha was an honourable exception to the rule.
- Reading novels and short stories my dad and uncles studied in college
- Listen in rapt attention to ammachi's recounting of my dad's heroics, grandpa's villainy, great grandpa's enterprise and the mahakavi's fame
- Live in mortal dread of the rain, thunder, lightning and urulepottal which always seems to claim quite a few lives on every visit there
- A Silence which lets you hear, then see, then feel a Nature our kids might never know off again...
3. VenalMazha - Towards the end of April or beginning of May a totally unexpected rain showers on us trivandrum residents. With the sun in full blast, the dust in full flight, the sweatglands working-overtime as salt factories, comes a gift from the heavens on Ganapathi's wedding, more refreshing for the mind and body, if caught in this tender rain than any water-park of human devise.
4. Camps - A semi-mad, retired colonel in TVM cooked up this idea of a personality development summer camp...my sis and i found ourselves going reluctanly, but amongst a new set of boys and gals i saw all my latent talents in writing, elocution, quizzing and sports come gushing out...cloud nine and seventh heaven just become pale adjectives to describe how a sad, spindly, introverted boy on earth feels when catapulted to overnight stardom...i ended up best camper in my second year there, but continued as a cropper when back after summer at my illustrious school amongst my accomplished classmates. But the camp was a harbinger for life to come, college saw me break out of the last of my self-inflicted barriers. jibs...when down and out, never ever lose hope in fresh beginnings, dude.
5. Beer - Summers at college was a bad bad time. College closes in March for study-leave, but we neither studied nor did anything worthwhile, sat twiddling our thumbs at home, the exams beginning in mid-April and sometimes even overlapping to June was a time for hectic exam-eve study, xeroxing and sleeping blissfully. Yet we would venture out, sometimes to the movies, otherwise sweating on the cricket ground and savoring the drink that most symbolizes college-life, beer. Yummm...i still can relish the taste of hundreds and hundreds of kingfishers guzzled in those 4 years.
6. Coolness,A 2007 Story - A summer of 1992, when i first set unbelieving blinking eyes on the big home my parents had built, i realized i had been denied a lot of cool stuff other kids my age grew up with like toys, comic books, bicycles, video games, etc, etc all which my young but receptive mind assumed we just were not in a position to afford. My parents had turned me on the path of knowledge...observing people, reading encyclopedias, novels, newspapers...even today i fail to relate with swanky cars, new-age gizmos, designer wear, big money, etc, etc. In this era it might be a huge failing and i may be an odd one out...a constant struggle to define myself and my coolness quotient goes on...watching my life play out, waiting for the surprises in store. A whole new theater of activity awaits me this summer...before the curtain downs on a season of warmth, an incubation period goes on, i expect to be hatched a new person when Fall befalls. Wonder what's in store...
Well here goes the list of folks yet to be tagged with this one...Arun Hari, Dhanush, Flaash, Pappanabhan, Rajesh, Sarah and Thanu...Enjoy!
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Oru Thattupolappan Vivaaha Vyavahaarika...
I feel odd...an inspiration for a post hit and it was on a topic i had the least idea of...marriages!!! More odd...this divine blog actually began with a recounting of an american wedding i attended...so inspite of all further oddities i will strive on to finish this post...it will be interesting for you the reader and me the blogger to find out where this goes! Apologies to my sis, her friends, my friends, our family, etc, etc whose interesting experiences is all that this post contains. A piece of trivia...my ancestor, the Mahakavi wrote a musical-play, Sara Vivaham 104 years ago, to be screened on the occasion of my great-grandfather marrying my great-grandmother...wonder how favorable the odds are for him to throw a paathaalakarandi down from heaven, to scoop me off, for writing such chavare!
--------------------------
A girl reaches the marriageable age...a process akin to the software engineering life cycle begins..always begins by a requirements gathering. Lets see how a consensus was arrived at in my family.
Pops: The boy should be from a good family.
Mom: All i care for is a good boy!
Me: All i ask is he should have lived in Kerala at some point and...(secretly to my sis)i hope he drinks a bit too!
Pops: Why is that? 50% of malayali christians are expats!
Me(sheepishly): I'd like to talk to my future aliyan in pacha-malayalam!
Finally all eyes turn to the client for her concerns.
Sis: Haavoo!Thanks for asking me atleast now!
--------------------------
And so begins the next phase: the groom search. At no other point in life can you ever get to see such a vivid assortment of the male mallu psyche.
Boy1: Looking for a comely girl who can sing, dance, cook, yaada yaada yaada!
Boy2: Lookin for a homely gal with us citizenship/green card but brought up in kerala.
Boy3: Looking for lovely gal from financially sound family, who is preferably a single child.
Boy4: I need a beautiful girl!!!
One night. I get a call from Pops.
Pops: Go online to ChavaraMatrimonial and look up this boy.
Me: Pops I am applying for jobs rite now!
Pops: Well somebody just applied for a bharthaav udyogam!
So I login on my sister's account to check this guy out...the same usual stuff. I am tempted to browse out the gals on the site. A message pops up - "Same Gender Search not allowed"! Dang...i didnt know the church was so hell bent on checking homosexuality!
My net-savvy dad even taught a still-surviving broker a lesson or two.
Pops: Send me a snap of the boy.
Broker: Okay sir! I will post it.
Pops: Dont you have an email? It is so much faster, you know.
Broker(now desperate):Then i will bring snap over!
Pops: Vendae Venda! Ennaal vandikooliyum tharanamello pinne!
---------------------------
Then begins the emailing phase...by the end of this, you actually realize half the guys out there in the arranged-market are desperados, if not psychos...sympathies for the gals tagged to them for a lifetime!
Boy1(wud seem like a spammer in his spare time seeing his flurry of emails!): I have brought a 3 bedroom house for us.ur parents can live with us. me even ready to watch mallu movies with u!
Gal: Take it slow dude!
Boy1: Are you seeing someone (surprised that she didnt fall for all that?)
Gal: WTF!
Boy2: Take a look at some casual pictures of mine.
Each pic clicked on causing increasing panic. In one he shows his well-toned biceps. Another in front of a mirror. And finally the piece de resistance of the slide-show...he wears red-coloured goggles. Total Disaster!
Gal: Good Luck!
-----------------------------
And so the party moves to the backroom. Time for background check. Sometimes done by direct house visits, sometimes by asking common friends, inquiring at colleges studied, etc, etc.
A friend of mine, is asked by his dad abt a boy who was our senior in college they had found for their child.
Gal-Dad: Do u know this guy?
Friend: No...never heard of him.
Gal-Dad(relieved): Thank God! If you havent heard of him, it means the boy must be real nice, studious and didnt alambufy in college!
Marital background checks can come handy for college teachers...read on! One day The Savages, our gang in college was summoned to the ladies staff-room and the teachers ganged around, scolding us for all the alambs in class. Seeing us not bothered...
Teacher1: Ha Varatte! Ningalkke kalyaana samayam aakumbol pembillerude achanmaar chodhiche varum
Teacher2: Annu njangal kaanichu tharaam
Savage1: Njan love-marriageil vishwasikkunna aalaanu.
Teacher3: Ho thanne love cheyyaanum pembiller dhairyapedumo!
This happened at one such direct visit i had to attend to make up a quorum for marriage functions...i forget if it needs to be odd or an even number of people that needs to proceed.
Gal-Dad(a relative): How come the boy did his MD in such a useless field?
Boy-Dad(our family friend too, this man, now irritated): How come the gal got 80% for degree and only 54% for PG? Was she distracted by something?
Mom unable to stop laughing, me wondering if a fight would break out!
Another such visit of a Gal-Dad to a friend's workplace to interview him.
Gal-Dad: Do you smoke or drink?
Friend: Yeah!
Gal-Dad: Eh! But your parents said you dont.
Friend(to himself):Iyaal aaruva! Ithokke veetukaarode paranjitta ellaavarum cheyyaa?!
Nowadays a new tool rampantly used. Orkut! Every boy/gal's profile, scrapbook and friends-list is checked...many are rejected for being around in the site long but not having enough friends! So those on Orkut...be warned...either leave or get active, if inside!
-----------------------------
And now comes the Pennukaanal Chadangu. So long as you are neither the boy/gal involved it is fun. Some of my blog-pals like Anish and Silverine have written awesome posts on this endeavour.
Here is one incident that went almost wrong. To satisfy the quorum said somewhere above i had to go for this ceremony once. My cousin-chetan, the boy, all clean-shaven, me with a beard, arrive at the gal's house...
Gal-Dad(outstretched hand, towards me): Welcome, nice to meet you, i am george
Cousin(lunging forward, taking the hand): Njaanaanu cherukkan
Gal-Dad(to cousin): You look younger to him!
Gal-Dad apologizes profusely...my cousin made sure i never went with him to see gals after that!
Another one that went real wrong.
Boy: You said you were 5ft,4 and 52kgs in ur profile...look at u!
Gal: You said you were fair-complexioned, handsome and well-built...look at u!
This one had almost tragic repercussions. 30 years back. My uncle was to go for Pennu-Kaanal and his friend agreed to tag along for company. On the appointed day the friend arrives, decked in a new, finely stitched coat and suit while my uncle wore an old, almost worn out one. Uncle surveys the friend head-to-toe, realizes the danger of his bride-to-be casting her eyes on this upstart.
Uncle: Nee varaenda. Nee vannaal sheriyaavilla
Friend: But...But...this new suit...50 dollars...quorum...
Uncle: Quorums be damned. This is America!
The joke in later years was, this friend realizing how a man can change with the coming of a woman, swore at the altar of chronic bachelordom for 15 long years, until he finally yielded to nature's call!
Sometimes the Pennukaanal Chandange never happens...a friend's wife said she saw 28 guys before just talking over the fone with him just once...and she realized he was the right guy and decided to forego the Pennukaanal!
------------------------------
And so my good people, an odyssey of unparallelled psychological profiling besides other physical, mental, material, logical, familial analyses leads to an engagement and then the marriage which despite all the above said human exertions is supposedly ordained in heaven! A post i thoroughly enjoyed penning...well i think the incidents above can be generalized across the kerala spectrum. But the troubles malayalis have to go through even after a marriage is over...i leave you with one final anecdote.
Man: We were the best of friends 30 years back. Yet he didnt invite me for his daughter's wedding.
Pops: Maybe he forgot.
Man: I am not inviting him for my daughter's wedding.
After the man leaves...
Mom: What's wrong with him? I'd be glad if there was one less wedding I'd be invited to.
We could only laugh in agreement at her pungent observation.
--------------------------
A girl reaches the marriageable age...a process akin to the software engineering life cycle begins..always begins by a requirements gathering. Lets see how a consensus was arrived at in my family.
Pops: The boy should be from a good family.
Mom: All i care for is a good boy!
Me: All i ask is he should have lived in Kerala at some point and...(secretly to my sis)i hope he drinks a bit too!
Pops: Why is that? 50% of malayali christians are expats!
Me(sheepishly): I'd like to talk to my future aliyan in pacha-malayalam!
Finally all eyes turn to the client for her concerns.
Sis: Haavoo!Thanks for asking me atleast now!
--------------------------
And so begins the next phase: the groom search. At no other point in life can you ever get to see such a vivid assortment of the male mallu psyche.
Boy1: Looking for a comely girl who can sing, dance, cook, yaada yaada yaada!
Boy2: Lookin for a homely gal with us citizenship/green card but brought up in kerala.
Boy3: Looking for lovely gal from financially sound family, who is preferably a single child.
Boy4: I need a beautiful girl!!!
One night. I get a call from Pops.
Pops: Go online to ChavaraMatrimonial and look up this boy.
Me: Pops I am applying for jobs rite now!
Pops: Well somebody just applied for a bharthaav udyogam!
So I login on my sister's account to check this guy out...the same usual stuff. I am tempted to browse out the gals on the site. A message pops up - "Same Gender Search not allowed"! Dang...i didnt know the church was so hell bent on checking homosexuality!
My net-savvy dad even taught a still-surviving broker a lesson or two.
Pops: Send me a snap of the boy.
Broker: Okay sir! I will post it.
Pops: Dont you have an email? It is so much faster, you know.
Broker(now desperate):Then i will bring snap over!
Pops: Vendae Venda! Ennaal vandikooliyum tharanamello pinne!
---------------------------
Then begins the emailing phase...by the end of this, you actually realize half the guys out there in the arranged-market are desperados, if not psychos...sympathies for the gals tagged to them for a lifetime!
Boy1(wud seem like a spammer in his spare time seeing his flurry of emails!): I have brought a 3 bedroom house for us.ur parents can live with us. me even ready to watch mallu movies with u!
Gal: Take it slow dude!
Boy1: Are you seeing someone (surprised that she didnt fall for all that?)
Gal: WTF!
Boy2: Take a look at some casual pictures of mine.
Each pic clicked on causing increasing panic. In one he shows his well-toned biceps. Another in front of a mirror. And finally the piece de resistance of the slide-show...he wears red-coloured goggles. Total Disaster!
Gal: Good Luck!
-----------------------------
And so the party moves to the backroom. Time for background check. Sometimes done by direct house visits, sometimes by asking common friends, inquiring at colleges studied, etc, etc.
A friend of mine, is asked by his dad abt a boy who was our senior in college they had found for their child.
Gal-Dad: Do u know this guy?
Friend: No...never heard of him.
Gal-Dad(relieved): Thank God! If you havent heard of him, it means the boy must be real nice, studious and didnt alambufy in college!
Marital background checks can come handy for college teachers...read on! One day The Savages, our gang in college was summoned to the ladies staff-room and the teachers ganged around, scolding us for all the alambs in class. Seeing us not bothered...
Teacher1: Ha Varatte! Ningalkke kalyaana samayam aakumbol pembillerude achanmaar chodhiche varum
Teacher2: Annu njangal kaanichu tharaam
Savage1: Njan love-marriageil vishwasikkunna aalaanu.
Teacher3: Ho thanne love cheyyaanum pembiller dhairyapedumo!
This happened at one such direct visit i had to attend to make up a quorum for marriage functions...i forget if it needs to be odd or an even number of people that needs to proceed.
Gal-Dad(a relative): How come the boy did his MD in such a useless field?
Boy-Dad(our family friend too, this man, now irritated): How come the gal got 80% for degree and only 54% for PG? Was she distracted by something?
Mom unable to stop laughing, me wondering if a fight would break out!
Another such visit of a Gal-Dad to a friend's workplace to interview him.
Gal-Dad: Do you smoke or drink?
Friend: Yeah!
Gal-Dad: Eh! But your parents said you dont.
Friend(to himself):Iyaal aaruva! Ithokke veetukaarode paranjitta ellaavarum cheyyaa?!
Nowadays a new tool rampantly used. Orkut! Every boy/gal's profile, scrapbook and friends-list is checked...many are rejected for being around in the site long but not having enough friends! So those on Orkut...be warned...either leave or get active, if inside!
-----------------------------
And now comes the Pennukaanal Chadangu. So long as you are neither the boy/gal involved it is fun. Some of my blog-pals like Anish and Silverine have written awesome posts on this endeavour.
Here is one incident that went almost wrong. To satisfy the quorum said somewhere above i had to go for this ceremony once. My cousin-chetan, the boy, all clean-shaven, me with a beard, arrive at the gal's house...
Gal-Dad(outstretched hand, towards me): Welcome, nice to meet you, i am george
Cousin(lunging forward, taking the hand): Njaanaanu cherukkan
Gal-Dad(to cousin): You look younger to him!
Gal-Dad apologizes profusely...my cousin made sure i never went with him to see gals after that!
Another one that went real wrong.
Boy: You said you were 5ft,4 and 52kgs in ur profile...look at u!
Gal: You said you were fair-complexioned, handsome and well-built...look at u!
This one had almost tragic repercussions. 30 years back. My uncle was to go for Pennu-Kaanal and his friend agreed to tag along for company. On the appointed day the friend arrives, decked in a new, finely stitched coat and suit while my uncle wore an old, almost worn out one. Uncle surveys the friend head-to-toe, realizes the danger of his bride-to-be casting her eyes on this upstart.
Uncle: Nee varaenda. Nee vannaal sheriyaavilla
Friend: But...But...this new suit...50 dollars...quorum...
Uncle: Quorums be damned. This is America!
The joke in later years was, this friend realizing how a man can change with the coming of a woman, swore at the altar of chronic bachelordom for 15 long years, until he finally yielded to nature's call!
Sometimes the Pennukaanal Chandange never happens...a friend's wife said she saw 28 guys before just talking over the fone with him just once...and she realized he was the right guy and decided to forego the Pennukaanal!
------------------------------
And so my good people, an odyssey of unparallelled psychological profiling besides other physical, mental, material, logical, familial analyses leads to an engagement and then the marriage which despite all the above said human exertions is supposedly ordained in heaven! A post i thoroughly enjoyed penning...well i think the incidents above can be generalized across the kerala spectrum. But the troubles malayalis have to go through even after a marriage is over...i leave you with one final anecdote.
Man: We were the best of friends 30 years back. Yet he didnt invite me for his daughter's wedding.
Pops: Maybe he forgot.
Man: I am not inviting him for my daughter's wedding.
After the man leaves...
Mom: What's wrong with him? I'd be glad if there was one less wedding I'd be invited to.
We could only laugh in agreement at her pungent observation.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
A Comic Strip
Of all the places were the muse can strike! This one happened in a classroom in Delhi during my Civil Service coaching. The hero of this cartoon was one of the sweetest boys i had met, totally uncorrupted by the ways of the world, preparing for the UPSC because it was his dad's big dream to see him as an IPS officer. I had this habit of drawing cartoon and mythical characters in school on the last pages of my notebook and was pleasantly surprised to find this talent revisiting 10 years later! Had totally forgotten about this...if not for my sister who miraculously discovered this one scribbled inside one of my notebooks.
P.S - Please open the image in another window. For some reason its all blurred.
P.S - Please open the image in another window. For some reason its all blurred.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
In God, We Trust...
Anyways this one is about our family praying at night. Not all of the following account is a routine, though a lot of it is. I have just tossed in a lot of the funny moments that came to mind. Anyways life has taken us kids out of our home...but memories linger. This one is dedicated to my parents and grandparents who tried their best to give us a Christian upbringing and a horrible reminder of what the future that lies in store for us with our kids.
Night- 7:30-8:00pm
Mom: We should pray first.
Us: No! We should eat first.
Ammachi: But that is not how others do it. Will you people even pray after i am gone???
Night 8:30pm
Mom: "Pillere, praarthikkaan vaa"(Kids come to pray)
Sis: "Chach, come"!
Me: "Wait a minute!"(believe me, my version of a minute is a long long time!)
Pops: "I have one more short fone call to make."(his version of a short call is a still longer one.)
Ammachi(already seated, waiting impatiently, on the verge of sleeping, and looking at my mom accusingly): "Gracykutty...ithonnum nallathinalla"(All this is not for good).
Night 9:00pm. Finally the actors arrive. Everyone has a pre-reserved position. Ammachi on a chair by the dining table. Pops on the steps leading upstairs. Mom by the sofa-side. Sis seated against the TV stand and me resting against the wall. We are all set to begin.
The Holy Bible is taken up by mom. She passes it to me. I push it back to her. She passes it to sis. She pushes it away too initially before relenting and more often than not thrusts it into my lap and then another reverse tug-o-war begins.
Sis: "I read yesterday. Today its your turn."
Me: "I read three days at a stretch last week."
Finally a commanding voice from behind arises,
Pops: "Mathi! Da nee vaayikke" (That's enough!)
I close my eyes and randomly open a page...still scowling. Dang...that went to the Old Testement. So I try again. This time it is one of the Psalms. Again not my favorite. Moreover sis has beaten that to death through the years...cant really understand the female fascination with the Psalms. Then Finally.
Me: "Lukosinte Suvishesham. Adhyayam Pathinanju, Pathu Muthal Pathinanju Vareyulla Vaakyangal."(A reading from the Gospel of St.Luke. Chapter 15. Verses 10-15.)
Oh-ho! This is trouble. It is about the prodigal son. I gloss over that, and start with another section.
The reading is done. I turn a triumphant glance at my sis. Didnt mess my pronounciation of the malayalam unlike her. This is what she once read out..."Yeshu peedippicha prarthana"(The prayer Jesus tortured). The actual line was "Yeshu Padippicha Prarthana"(The prayer Jesus taught, Mathew 5:9). A look of "Ninne njan adutha vattom edutholam" is all i get back.
Everyone breaks out into a song. Its a lovely one. "Nithyasahaaya Naathe..." But the beginning is a problem. All of us suck at singing. So mom starts out. It is funny to hear her start diffidently, with ears sharpened waiting for us to join in the crooning. Usually ammachi piches in and gives her support and then the rest three of us open up. One night sis and i decided on a small prank, to not parttake in the singing and watch how far she can go on. Mom lost her confidence and turned back and gives the kind of look of having been utterly back-stabbed!
The next items in the itenerary. Our Father in Heaven, followed by Hail Mary, then the I Believe prayer, then the I Confess prayer, then the Hail Holy Queen prayer, then The Act of Contrition, and then another song...Walking with the Lord. All these are said in English and were a byproduct of the convent education and the jesuit schooling sis and i got. All the prayers are said at break-neck speed and mom tries to join us and then gives up midway panting. These days we have given up on the english prayers. It is all in malayalam. I think i must have forgotten all the above ones by now.
Now mom, ammachi and sis takes over. The rites begin in malayalam.
Chorus: "Swargasthanaaya Njangalude Pithaave, Ninte Naamam Poojitham Aakaname". (Our Father in Heaven, Holy be thy name)
Me: "Ninte Udarathin Phalamaaya Easo" (Blessed be the fruit of thy womb)
Everyone turns around. Cold Stares. I know what that look means. I messed up again. After the first line of Our Father I had jumped straight to the second line of Hail Mary. I raise my hands to conciliate everyone and decides to sit quietly. My sis opens her mouth and flashes her tongue at me. If it wasnt prayer time...i would have pulled it out.
All the while there is one man sitting behind who softly hums quite-inaudible somethings which none of us could really make out. That was Pops' way of praying. For me the interest in catching him in the act was heightened by my doubts that he was a communist at heart. After all Marx was the founding father of his bread-earner, Sociology and every sociologist i knew seemed to be a commie at heart. All his friends in the University were die-hard leftists, he rarely went to church in the 80's, and i suspect only once in the 70's...to marry my mom!!! Our library had scores of books on Marx, Engels, Lenin, et al. Even today without me asking, he will walk up and recount all the times of the week he visits a church or atleast a kurishadi...he must be hoping it makes an impact on me...but first impressions linger.
My mom follows the Syro-Malankara rite which is full of arcane prayers, syriani chants, and a tendency to neetufy the last syllable. You find it in the Orthodox Church too. Now comes my favorite...That is one part i understand...because its slow...and its a chance to playfully test my lung power. Everyone is taken aback with my new-found zest which dies with the passing of those lines.
Chorus:"Deyvameyyyy, nee Balavaaaaaaaaaanaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakunnnnnnnnuuuuuuuuuuu."(God, you are so strong!!!)
Chorus:"Deyvameyyyy, nee Parishudhanaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakunnnnnnnnuuuuuuuuuuu."(God, you are so sacred!!!) Wonder if god will do the same literal translation and laugh at the result!
"Pirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"
I looked back all deflated. The fart had spolt my best lines. But sis couldnt stop laughing, mom joined in, and even ammachi who keeps a sombre face during prayers joined. It had to be pops, or so we always decided and ganged up against him. Usually he took it sportingly but sometimes a whiff of anger would fleet through his face and we would all hurriedly resume.
Then begins two prayers that mom adores, i suspect to be novennas, but she doesnt bother. I have a short easy one of 3 small paras which i have been saying for years yet cant memorize. Can never finish without help from mum and sis. And then sis begins hers, which is pretty long, citing proudly from memory. Suddenly the phone rings. Mom turns back and looks at dad. He rushes to replace the reciever and comes back. The prayer resumes. Suddenly the other phone rings and Pop is out of the block like a 100mt sprinter.
Mom(loosing her cool): "Ee veetile phonukal ellaam njan thalli pottikkum"(I will break all the darned phones in this house.)
And finally, its all over. A few moments of meditation to wind up is an unspoken rule in the household. I look around wondering why noone leaves...and suspecting it to be a case of inertia, I am up in a moment rushing upstairs, taking the cue Pops dashes for the fone and sis lunges for the TV remote. Our cousins had to give sthuthi(praise...done with palms pressed like in namaste) to the elders before leaving but we both are so informal with our parents that it seemed awkward.
Mom:"Ingane Praarthichitte oru kaaryavum illa."(There is no point praying like this!)
A solemn, gloomy looking ammachi sits staring at a puzzled, thoughtful looking mom wondering how in a span of 20 years her family which contributed 3 priests to the church, one her son, and the other two her nephews...had changed...or was it the times?
It was just a half-hour in the 24 hour days of our lives...nowadays looking back one of the constant memories of home that i treasure are the images of our awkward family-prayers. I wont be a boy again, I maynot be a practising christian ever again, but i will say two things for sure...prayers bring families closer and they sure can be fun too!
Night- 7:30-8:00pm
Mom: We should pray first.
Us: No! We should eat first.
Ammachi: But that is not how others do it. Will you people even pray after i am gone???
Night 8:30pm
Mom: "Pillere, praarthikkaan vaa"(Kids come to pray)
Sis: "Chach, come"!
Me: "Wait a minute!"(believe me, my version of a minute is a long long time!)
Pops: "I have one more short fone call to make."(his version of a short call is a still longer one.)
Ammachi(already seated, waiting impatiently, on the verge of sleeping, and looking at my mom accusingly): "Gracykutty...ithonnum nallathinalla"(All this is not for good).
Night 9:00pm. Finally the actors arrive. Everyone has a pre-reserved position. Ammachi on a chair by the dining table. Pops on the steps leading upstairs. Mom by the sofa-side. Sis seated against the TV stand and me resting against the wall. We are all set to begin.
The Holy Bible is taken up by mom. She passes it to me. I push it back to her. She passes it to sis. She pushes it away too initially before relenting and more often than not thrusts it into my lap and then another reverse tug-o-war begins.
Sis: "I read yesterday. Today its your turn."
Me: "I read three days at a stretch last week."
Finally a commanding voice from behind arises,
Pops: "Mathi! Da nee vaayikke" (That's enough!)
I close my eyes and randomly open a page...still scowling. Dang...that went to the Old Testement. So I try again. This time it is one of the Psalms. Again not my favorite. Moreover sis has beaten that to death through the years...cant really understand the female fascination with the Psalms. Then Finally.
Me: "Lukosinte Suvishesham. Adhyayam Pathinanju, Pathu Muthal Pathinanju Vareyulla Vaakyangal."(A reading from the Gospel of St.Luke. Chapter 15. Verses 10-15.)
Oh-ho! This is trouble. It is about the prodigal son. I gloss over that, and start with another section.
The reading is done. I turn a triumphant glance at my sis. Didnt mess my pronounciation of the malayalam unlike her. This is what she once read out..."Yeshu peedippicha prarthana"(The prayer Jesus tortured). The actual line was "Yeshu Padippicha Prarthana"(The prayer Jesus taught, Mathew 5:9). A look of "Ninne njan adutha vattom edutholam" is all i get back.
Everyone breaks out into a song. Its a lovely one. "Nithyasahaaya Naathe..." But the beginning is a problem. All of us suck at singing. So mom starts out. It is funny to hear her start diffidently, with ears sharpened waiting for us to join in the crooning. Usually ammachi piches in and gives her support and then the rest three of us open up. One night sis and i decided on a small prank, to not parttake in the singing and watch how far she can go on. Mom lost her confidence and turned back and gives the kind of look of having been utterly back-stabbed!
The next items in the itenerary. Our Father in Heaven, followed by Hail Mary, then the I Believe prayer, then the I Confess prayer, then the Hail Holy Queen prayer, then The Act of Contrition, and then another song...Walking with the Lord. All these are said in English and were a byproduct of the convent education and the jesuit schooling sis and i got. All the prayers are said at break-neck speed and mom tries to join us and then gives up midway panting. These days we have given up on the english prayers. It is all in malayalam. I think i must have forgotten all the above ones by now.
Now mom, ammachi and sis takes over. The rites begin in malayalam.
Chorus: "Swargasthanaaya Njangalude Pithaave, Ninte Naamam Poojitham Aakaname". (Our Father in Heaven, Holy be thy name)
Me: "Ninte Udarathin Phalamaaya Easo" (Blessed be the fruit of thy womb)
Everyone turns around. Cold Stares. I know what that look means. I messed up again. After the first line of Our Father I had jumped straight to the second line of Hail Mary. I raise my hands to conciliate everyone and decides to sit quietly. My sis opens her mouth and flashes her tongue at me. If it wasnt prayer time...i would have pulled it out.
All the while there is one man sitting behind who softly hums quite-inaudible somethings which none of us could really make out. That was Pops' way of praying. For me the interest in catching him in the act was heightened by my doubts that he was a communist at heart. After all Marx was the founding father of his bread-earner, Sociology and every sociologist i knew seemed to be a commie at heart. All his friends in the University were die-hard leftists, he rarely went to church in the 80's, and i suspect only once in the 70's...to marry my mom!!! Our library had scores of books on Marx, Engels, Lenin, et al. Even today without me asking, he will walk up and recount all the times of the week he visits a church or atleast a kurishadi...he must be hoping it makes an impact on me...but first impressions linger.
My mom follows the Syro-Malankara rite which is full of arcane prayers, syriani chants, and a tendency to neetufy the last syllable. You find it in the Orthodox Church too. Now comes my favorite...That is one part i understand...because its slow...and its a chance to playfully test my lung power. Everyone is taken aback with my new-found zest which dies with the passing of those lines.
Chorus:"Deyvameyyyy, nee Balavaaaaaaaaaanaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakunnnnnnnnuuuuuuuuuuu."(God, you are so strong!!!)
Chorus:"Deyvameyyyy, nee Parishudhanaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakunnnnnnnnuuuuuuuuuuu."(God, you are so sacred!!!) Wonder if god will do the same literal translation and laugh at the result!
"Pirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"
I looked back all deflated. The fart had spolt my best lines. But sis couldnt stop laughing, mom joined in, and even ammachi who keeps a sombre face during prayers joined. It had to be pops, or so we always decided and ganged up against him. Usually he took it sportingly but sometimes a whiff of anger would fleet through his face and we would all hurriedly resume.
Then begins two prayers that mom adores, i suspect to be novennas, but she doesnt bother. I have a short easy one of 3 small paras which i have been saying for years yet cant memorize. Can never finish without help from mum and sis. And then sis begins hers, which is pretty long, citing proudly from memory. Suddenly the phone rings. Mom turns back and looks at dad. He rushes to replace the reciever and comes back. The prayer resumes. Suddenly the other phone rings and Pop is out of the block like a 100mt sprinter.
Mom(loosing her cool): "Ee veetile phonukal ellaam njan thalli pottikkum"(I will break all the darned phones in this house.)
And finally, its all over. A few moments of meditation to wind up is an unspoken rule in the household. I look around wondering why noone leaves...and suspecting it to be a case of inertia, I am up in a moment rushing upstairs, taking the cue Pops dashes for the fone and sis lunges for the TV remote. Our cousins had to give sthuthi(praise...done with palms pressed like in namaste) to the elders before leaving but we both are so informal with our parents that it seemed awkward.
Mom:"Ingane Praarthichitte oru kaaryavum illa."(There is no point praying like this!)
A solemn, gloomy looking ammachi sits staring at a puzzled, thoughtful looking mom wondering how in a span of 20 years her family which contributed 3 priests to the church, one her son, and the other two her nephews...had changed...or was it the times?
It was just a half-hour in the 24 hour days of our lives...nowadays looking back one of the constant memories of home that i treasure are the images of our awkward family-prayers. I wont be a boy again, I maynot be a practising christian ever again, but i will say two things for sure...prayers bring families closer and they sure can be fun too!
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Mayyazhiyil
Finished reading M.Mukundan's masterpeice, Mayyazhi Puzhayude Theerangalil. Now what do I say...am i sad, am i disturbed or am i overwhelmed...didnt all the characters find salvation, though not the one they envisaged? Or am I scared of wasted youthfulness? Or am I on the right track? Time will tell...
Sunday, January 28, 2007
സാക്ഷി...
പ്രഭാതം പൊട്ടി വിടരുന്നു. പാഞ്ഞകലുന്ന ബസ്സ് ഓളിയിട്ടു നിര്ത്തുന്നു. 30 വയസ്സ് തോന്നിക്കുന്ന ഒരു ചെറുപ്പക്കാരന് രാത്രിമഴയില് നനഞ്ഞുകിടക്കുന്ന വഴിയരികത്തേക്ക് ധ്രിതിയില് ചാടിയിറങ്ങുന്നു. ഒരു നിമിഷം പോലും നഷ്ടപ്പെടാനില്ലെന്നോണം നീങ്ങിയകലുന്ന ബസ്സിനെ യുവാവ് അല്പനേരം നോക്കി നിന്നിട്ട് തിരിഞ്ഞു നടക്കുന്നു. കവലയടുത്തപ്പം അയാള് ഒന്നു ശങ്കിച്ചു നിന്നുപോയി. ഓരോ വട്ടം വരുമ്പം ഇവിടെ എന്തൊക്കെ മാറ്റങ്ങള്...പുതിയ കടകള്, വീടുകള്, ഇതാ ഇപ്പം ഒരു സൈബര് കഫെയും. ജീന്സും റ്റീ-ഷര്ട്ടും തോളത്തിലൂടെ സ്പോര്ട്ട്സ്-ബാഗും തൂക്കി നിനച്ചു നിന്ന യുവാവിനെ പീടികതിണ്ണയില് പത്രവും വായിച്ചിരുന്ന ഗ്രാമവാസി അയാളെ താല്പര്യപൂര്വം നോക്കുന്നതു കണ്ടിട്ട് അങ്ങോട്ട് നടന്നു. "കാവിലെ വീട് എതിലയ ചേട്ടാ?" എന്തൊ പറയാന് എന്നോണം വാ തുറന്നിട്ടു പിന്നെ ആലോചനയില് മുഴുകിയിട്ട് അയാള് പറഞ്ഞു, "വടക്ക്ക്കോട്ട് നടന്നാല് കാണുന്ന വര്കുഷോപ്പിന്റെ അരികിലൂടൊള്ള റോട് ചെന്നെത്തുന്നത് കുരിഷടിയില്..."
"വടക്ക്...?"
പുച്ച ഭാവതൊടെ വഴികാട്ടി കൈകൊണ്ട് ആങ്ങ്യം കാട്ടി.
"ആ ... അവിടുന്നുള്ള വഴിയെനിക്കറിയാം. നന്ദി."
"ഇപ്പം സിഗറെറ്റ് കിട്ടുന്ന കട വല്ലൊം തുറന്നിരിക്കുമൊ ചേട്ടാ?"
"ക്കുഞ്ഞ് കാവിലെ എതു വീട്ടിലെയാന്ന പറഞ്ഞെ?"
"ഞാന് പറഞ്ഞില്ലല്ലൊ ചേട്ടാ". നടന്നകലുന്ന യുവാവിനെ നോക്കി അയാള് ഭൂമിക്കു പ്രഹരമേല്പ്പിക്കും വിധം ആഞ്ഞൊരു തുപ്പ്.
ഒരു സിഗറെറ്റും വാങ്ങി കത്തിച്ചവന് നടക്കുന്നു. മലകളിലിടയിലൂടെ ഒളിഞ്ഞുയരുന്ന ഉദയസൂര്യനെ അവന് ആദരപൂര്വം ഒന്ന് നോക്കി നിന്നുപോകുന്നു.
"സിറ്റി ജീവിതം മതിയാക്കിയാലോ," എന്നു തന്നോടു തന്നെ ചോദിച്ചു പോകുന്ന ഒരു സുന്ദര നിമിഷം. പരിശുദ്ധം എന്നു തോന്നുന്ന ഗ്രാമവായുവും നനഞ്ഞു കിടക്കുന്ന ഭൂമിയുടെ ലസിപ്പിക്കുന്ന ഗന്ധവും അവന് ആഞ്ഞൊന്ന് ഉള്ശ്വസിച്ചു. സ്വീകരിക്കാതെ വന്നു കയറിയ അതിഥി എന്നോണം സിഗറെറ്റിനെ ഒന്ന് നോക്കിയിട്ട് അവന് അതിനെ വലിച്ചെറിയുന്നു. അവന് പെറ്റുവീണ, ഇന്നു ദിവസങ്ങള് ചെല്ലുന്തോറും അന്യമായി തോന്നുന്ന തറവാട്ടിലേക്കു അയാള് നടന്നു. ഇവിടെ പടുവൃദ്ധരായ അപ്പച്ചനും അമ്മച്ചിയും മാത്രം. കുട്ടികാലത്ത് കൂടെ ഓടി കളിച്ച കസിന്സിനെയും ഒട്ടൊരുമയോടെ ജീവിച്ച എളാപ്പന്മാരെയും അവരുടെ ഭാര്യമാരെയും ഒന്നു അനുസ്മരിച്ചു. ഭാഗം വച്ചും വെക്കാതയും എല്ലാവരും തെറ്റി പിരിഞ്ഞു. അതില് ഒഴുകി പോയ സമപ്രായകാരായ കസിന്സിന്റെ സൗഹൃദം എന്നും ഒരു തീരാനഷ്ടം തന്നെ. വിശാലമായ റബ്ബര് മരങ്ങള് പൊതിഞ്ഞ വഴിയറ്റത്ത് തന്റെ തറവാട് കാഴ്ചയില് പെട്ടു. എന്ത് സുന്ദരമായ വീട്...ഇന്നത്തെ വീടുകള് വെറും അലങ്കാര വസ്തുക്കള്.
ഉമുക്കരിയിട്ടു പല്ലും തേച്ച് അതാ ഇറങ്ങി വരുന്നു സുമുഖനും എമ്പത് പോയിട്ട് അമ്പത് പോലും തോന്നിക്കാത്ത ഒത്ത ശരീരവും തടിയുമുള്ള തന്റെ അപ്പച്ചന്.
അപ്പച്ചന്റെ മസ്സില് തടവിക്കൊണ്ട്, "How are you young man?"
അവന്റെ ചോദ്യം കേട്ട് സന്തോഷത്തോടെയും അഭിമാനത്തോടെയും വൃധന്, "I am fine"
വീടിന്റെ അകത്തു നിന്നും നിര്താതെ ചുമ കേള്കുന്നു.
"കുട്ടന് വന്നൊ?"
അവന് അകത്തേക്ക് ചെന്ന് അമ്മച്ചിയെ കെട്ടിപിണരുന്നു.
"ഞാന് ചായ കൊണ്ടു വരാം," എന്ന് പറഞ്ഞിട്ട് വൃദ്ധ അടുക്കളയിലേക്കു കൂനി കൂനി നദന്നു. വീണ്ടും തോരാത്ത ചുമ കേട്ട് യുവാവിനു വ്യസനം.
"ഒരു ജോലികാരിയെ വെക്ക് എന്റെ അമ്മച്ചി. അതിലും പിഷുക്കല്ലേ."
"ആളെ കിട്ടണ്ടേ എന്റെ മോനെ. ആരെങ്കിലും വന്നു നിന്നാല് തന്നെ അപ്പച്ചന് പിണക്കി തിരിച്ചയക്കും. എനിക്ക് കഷ്ടപ്പെടാനാണന്നെ യോഗം."
തന്റെ ബാഗ് തുറന്നു പരിശോദ്ധിക്കുന്ന വൃദ്ധനെ കണ്ട് യുവാവിന്റെ മുഖത്തൊരു ചെറുപുഞ്ചിരി.
"ഇല്ല. അപ്പച്ചന്റെ ഐറ്റം കൊണ്ടുവന്നിട്ടില്ല. കഴിഞ്ഞ പ്രാവശ്യം ഓവര് ആയത് മറന്നൊ?"
"What a fellow you are?" നിരാശ കലര്ന്ന സുന്ദര മുഖതിന്റെ വിളര്ച്ച തെല്ലൊരു കൗതുകതൊദെ അയാള് ശ്രദ്ധിച്ചു നിന്നു,
"റാപിടെക്സ്കാര്ക് അപ്പച്ചന്റെ ഇംഗ്ലീഷ് ഒരു പരസ്യം ആകാമായിരുന്നു."
"ഉവ്വ...ഉവ്വ. ഇത് റാപിടെക്സാണന്ന് നിന്നോടാരു പറഞ്ഞു. ഞാന് സ്കൂളില് പഠിച്ചത് ഇന്നും മറന്നിട്ടില്ല."
ഒരു പെണ്കുട്ടി കടന്നു വരുന്നു. 20-22 വയസ്സ് തോന്നിക്കുന്നവള് വേഷം ധരിചിരുന്നത് ഒരു ചുരിധാറായിരുന്നു. നാണം കലര്ന്ന ചെറുപുഞ്ചിരിയും സൗന്ദര്യത്തെക്കാള് ഏറെ വല്ലാത്തൊരു പ്രസന്നതയാണ് അവന് അവളില് കണ്ടത്.
സംശയിച്ചു നിന്ന അവനെ കണ്ട് അമ്മച്ചി:
"നിനക്ക് സ്മിതയെ അറിയില്ലെ. മരിച്ചുപോയ മാത്തുകുട്ടിയുടെ മകളാണ്. ഇവിടെ എഞ്ചിനീറിങ്ങിന് പഠിക്കുന്നു. പുതിയ കോളേജ് ആയതുകൊണ്ട് ഹോസ്റ്റെലില്ല. പിന്നെ ഞങ്ങല്ക്കും ഒരു കൂട്ടായി. "
"ജോണിചേട്ടന് ഇപ്പം വന്നെ ഒള്ളൊ?"
"ചേട്ടനോ! നിന്റെ അങ്കിളാണടി കൊച്ചെ."
"ആയ്യോ! ചേട്ടന് വിളി തന്നെ ധാരാളം. നമുക്കത്ര പ്രായം ഒന്നും ആയിട്ടില്ലെ."
"കുഞ്ഞമ്മ മാറിയെ. ഞാന് കാപ്പി തയ്യാറാക്കാം," എന്നും പരഞ്ഞവള് അടുക്കളയിലേക്കു കയറി.
"നിന്റെ ബിസിനസ്സ് ഒക്കെ എങ്ങനെ".
"ആ ചൊദ്യത്തില് നിന്ന് രക്ഷ എങ്ങും കിട്ടില്ലെ?" എന്ന് ജോണി ഓര്ത്തു.
എന്നിട്ട് കാരണവരോട് നീരസത്തോടെ മറുപടി പറഞ്ഞു: "വല്യ മെച്ചം ഒന്നും ഇല്ല."
"അടച്ചു പൂട്ടണെങ്കില് നീ ഇങ്ങു പോരെ. റബ്ബറിന് നല്ല വിലയാ."
ക്രൂരമെന്ന് തോന്നുന്ന വാക്കുകളോട് പ്രതികരിക്കണൊ വേണ്ടയൊന്ന് ജോണി ഒരു വട്ടം ആലോചിക്കുന്നു, ആ നിമിഷവും കടന്നു.
"ആ ചെറുക്കന് വന്ന് കയറെണ്ട താമസം, പോരു കൂട്ടി തുടങ്ങി."
ജോണിയും സ്മിതയും ഉറക്കെ ചിരിക്കുന്നു.
"സ്മിതയ്ക് ഇന്ന് എന്താ പരുപാടി? ഇവരുടെ ഇടയില് കിടന്നു അടികൂടാനും പരിഹരിക്കാനും കമ്പനിയുണ്ടല്ലൊ."
"എനിക്ക് ക്ലാസ്സൊണ്ടല്ലൊ."
"പോകെണ്ടന്നെ. കട്ട് ചെയ്യ്."
"നീ പോടാ. മോള് പോയി പഠിക്കാന് നോക്ക്."
അവന് നാടുകാണാന് ഇറങ്ങി. റബ്ബര് വില ഉയര്ന്നപ്പോള് നിദ്രയില് നിന്നെന്നോണം സഡകുടഞ്ഞെഴുന്നേറ്റ മുതലാളിമാര് എങ്ങും. വെയിലത്തു തിളങ്ങുന്ന തകര്പ്പന് വണ്ടികള് എങ്ങും.
"ദൈവമെ...പണ്ടത്തെ ഇടിവ് മറന്നുവൊ ഇവര്?" ആര്ഭാടങ്ങള് കണ്ട് ജോണി തന്നോടു തന്നെ ചൊദിച്ചു പൊകുന്നു.
പണവും പ്രതാപവും ഉള്ള ചിലര്...അവരോട് മത്സരിക്കാന് വേറെ ചിലര്. കേരളത്തിലെങ്ങോളം എന്ന പോലെ ഇവിടെയും മാറ്റങ്ങള്...ഗ്രാമങ്ങള് റ്റൗണുകളായി മാറുന്നു.
രാത്രി. ചുറ്റുമുള്ള മലകളില് നിന്നും തിളങ്ങുന്ന ലൈറ്റുകളും ആകാശത്തിലെ നക്ഷത്രങ്ങളും തമ്മില് എന്ത് സാമ്യം എന്നവന് അലോചിച്ച് നില്ക്കുന്നു. കാറ്റിന്റെ അഭാവം അവനെ തെല്ലൊന്ന് അസ്വസ്തനാക്കുന്നു. പടികയറി റ്റെറസ്സിലേക്ക് ആരൊ വരുന്നപോലെ അവന് തോന്നുന്നു. അവളാണ്...സ്മിത. അവളെ പ്രതീക്ഷിച്ചെന്നോണം അവന്റെ മുഖതൊരു മന്ദഹാസം. താഴെ ടിവി സീരിയലില് നിന്നുണര്ന്ന ഒരു അലമുറ. അവനു ചിരിവന്നു. അവളും ചിരിക്കുന്നു.
"ടിവി സീരിയല് കാണാതെ സ്മിത ഈ വീട്ടില് എങ്ങനെ ജീവിക്കുന്നു?"
"എന്നെ കാണിക്കല്ലെന്നാണ് വീട്ടില് നിന്നും കുഞ്ഞമ്മയ്ക്ക് കിട്ടിയിട്ടുള്ള ഓര്ഡര്."
ഒരു നിമിഷം പ്രകൃതിയും മനുഷ്യനും യന്ത്രവും എല്ലാം നിശബ്ധം. പിന്നെ വീണ്ടും ഇടവിടാതെ ടിവിയില് നിന്ന് അലമുറ.
"കുട്ടികാലത്ത് ഇവിടെ വന്നിരുന്ന് എത്ര രാത്രികള് ഞാന് തള്ളിനീക്കി."
"നാളെ തന്നെ പോകുമൊ?"
"ഹും. എന്താ...എന്നെ മടുത്തൊ?"
"അയ്യോ. അതല്ല. ഇവിടെ ഇത്രയും ഇഷ്ടമാണെങ്കില് എന്നാത്തിനാ തിടുക്കത്തില് പൊകുന്നെ?"
"അവിടെ നിന്ന് കാണുമ്പം ഇവിടെ സുന്ദരം. ഇവിടെ വരുമ്പം ഞാന് പ്രതീക്ഷിച്ചെത്തുന്ന പലതും ഇല്ല എന്നൊരു തിരിച്ചറിയല്. ചന്ദ്രനില്ല. നിലാവില്ല. ഒരു ചെറുകാറ്റുപോലും കനിയുന്നില്ല. കൂടെ നില്കുന്ന പെണ്ണ് എന്റെ അനന്തിരവളും. How unromantic!"
അവന് ജാള്യത കലര്ന്ന ഒരു ചിരി അഡക്കുന്നു.
"കല്യാണം കഴിച്ചുകൂടെ ചേട്ടന്?"
"എന്നിട്ട് എന്ത് ചെയ്യും?"
"ഈ പറഞ്ഞ romantic feeling..."
"അത് സിനിമയിലും കവിതയിലും നമ്മുടെ ഭാവനയിലും മാത്രം. തിരക്കൊഴിയുമ്പോള് ഒരു മധുര സ്വപ്നം കാണാന് പോലും ഉന്മേശമില്ലാതെ ഞാന് ഉറങ്ങും."
"എനിക്ക് ഉറങ്ങാറായി ചേട്ടാ. ഞാന് പോകുന്നു."
കിടന്നിട്ടും ഉറക്കം വരുന്നില്ല. അലട്ടുന്ന പല പ്രശ്നങ്ങള്.
"എവിടെയും ആശ്വാസം കിട്ടുന്നില്ലല്ലൊ ദൈവമെ."
അവന് ഒച്ചയുണ്ടാക്കാതെ റ്റെറസ്സിലേക്ക് കയറുന്നു. വാതില് തുറന്നിരുന്നു, മങ്ങിയ വെട്ടത്തില് ഒന്നായി തൊന്നും വിധം രണ്ടു ശരീരങ്ങള് ചുമ്പിക്കാന് ഒരുങ്ങുന്നു. അവന് നടുങ്ങി.
"എന്നാ ചെയ്യും," തന്നോട് തന്നെ അവന് മന്ത്രിച്ചു.
കോണിപടിയിറങ്ങാന് അവന് ഒരുങ്ങുന്നു. ആ കുട്ടി തനിക്ക് വേണ്ടപെട്ടവള് അല്ലെ. അവള് ചെയ്യുന്നതെന്തെന്ന് അവള് അറിയുന്നുവൊ? കുടുമ്പം, സമൂഹം, വ്യവസ്ഥിതി...എല്ലാം അവളെ വേട്ടയാടില്ലെ...വെറും ഒരു രാത്രിയുടെ കാമഭങ്കത്തിനു വേണ്ടി. ഒരു സംശയം മാത്രം ബാകി...രക്തബന്ധം ചുരുങ്ങിയ സമയതിന്റെ പരിചയത്തിന് സമം തന്നെയോ. രണ്ടും കല്പിച്ച് അയാള് വാതിലില് തട്ടുന്നു. ഒരു നിലവിളി പുറപെടുവിച്ച് അവള് നിലത്തേക്ക് പതിക്കുന്നു. പുരുഷ രൂപം ധ്രിതിയില് തന്റെ അടുക്കലേക്ക് നീങ്ങുന്നത് കണ്ടു പരുങ്ങുന്ന ജോണി അയാളെ ഭയം കലര്നെങ്കിലും ശ്രദ്ധിച്ചു നോക്കുന്നു. തന്റെയത്രേം പ്രായം. താടിയുണ്ട്. ശര്ട്ടും മുണ്ടുമാണ് വേഷം. പടിയിറങ്ങുന്ന രൂപത്തെ തന്നെ അവന്റെ കണ്ണുകള് പിന്തുടരുന്നു. തിരിഞ്ഞ് നിലം പതിച്ചു കിടന്ന സ്മിതയുടെ അരികിലേക്കവന് പകച്ചു നീങ്ങി. സടകുടഞ്ഞെഴുന്നെറ്റ് പഴയ പ്രസരിപ്പും ഒരു പുതിയ ധിക്കാര ഭാവവും അവളുടെ മുഖത്ത് പ്രകടമായി.
"ഒന്നും പറയേണ്ട ജോണിച്ചായന്. അയാള് എന്റെ കൂട്ടുകാരനാണ്."
"കൂട്ട് കൂടാന് സമപ്രായക്കാരെയൊ കൂടെ പഠിക്കുന്നവരെയൊ നിനക്ക് കിട്ടിയില്ലെ?"
അതിന് അവള് മിണ്ടിയില്ല. ഒരു ബൈക്കിന്റെ ശബ്ദം. അതു നിലച്ചപ്പോള് തന്നെ ലജ്ജ കൂടാതെ തുരിച്ചു നോക്കുന്ന പെണ്ണിനെ കണ്ടയാള് അദ്ഭുതപ്പെടുന്നു.
"നിന്റെ അമ്മയെ കുറിച്ച് ആലോചിച്ചോ. നീ കാരണം ചീത്തപേരു കേള്കണ്ട സഹോദരിമാരെകുറിച്ചോ?
"ഉവ്വ". ദ്രിഡമായ അവളുടെ ഉത്തരം കേട്ടവന് ഞെട്ടി.
"ഞാന് ഒരു ഭാരം തന്നെയാണ് എന്റെ അമ്മക്ക്. അത് അവര് എന്നെ പലവട്ടം അറിയിചിട്ടുമുണ്ട്. ഞാന് എങ്ങനെ പോയാല് പിന്നെ ആര്ക്ക് എന്ത?"
"ഇപ്പം നന്നായി പഠിച്ച് നിനക്ക് ഒരു ജോലി കിട്ടി രക്ഷപെട്ടുകൂടെ?"
അതിനവള്ക്ക് മറുപടിയില്ല. മുഖം തിരിച്ച് കൈകള് മുടിയിലൂടെ തടവിയുള്ള അവളുടെ മൗനം തന്നെ അവന് വാചാലമായി തോന്നി. അവളുടെ നിശബ്ദ്ധത അഗാഡമായ ഒരു ക്രോധം അയാളില് ഉളവാക്കി.
"എന്റെ തറവാട്ടില് വേണ്ട നിന്റെ വിളയാട്ടം."
അയാള് ഉറങ്ങാന് ശ്രമിക്കുന്നു. തന്റെ ശകാരം അതിരു കടന്നോ? എത്ര പെട്ടന്നാണ് തന്റെ ദേഷ്യം കെട്ടടങ്ങിയത്. അവളോട് എന്തന്നറിയാത്ത സഹതാപം അയാളില് ഉടലെടുക്കുന്നു. പക്ഷെ നിദ്രയുടെ പടവുകള് അവനെ ബന്ധിയാക്കിയിരിക്കുന്നു. ഏതോ സ്വപ്നലോകത്തേക്കവന് മറയുകയാണ്. തന്റെ ഹൃദയത്തില് തട്ടികൊണ്ട് ഒരു ഉപദേശസ്വരം പുറപ്പെടുന്നു.
"പ്രിയപെട്ട സ്മിതെ, യൗവനം കഴിയുമ്പോള് ശരിക്കുമുള്ള ജീവിതം തുടങ്ങും. ഇന്നീ ചെയ്യുന്നത് അബദ്ധമാണെങ്കില്, നിന്നെ ഇത് ചെയ്യിക്കുന്ന അതെ യൗവനത്തെ പഴിച്ച് നീ ജീവിതം കഴിക്കില്ലെ?" ഈ വാക്കുകള് അവള് കേട്ടുവൊ? അതോ ഫാനിന്റെ കാറ്റുപോലെ ആ മുറിക്കുള്ളില് തന്നെ വട്ടം കറങ്ങുന്നുവൊ?
ഒരു പെണ്കുട്ടിയെ നാടുകാര് കല്ലെറിയുന്നു. അതിന് നേത്രിത്വം നല്കുന്ന ആള് മുഖമൂടി അണിഞ്ഞിരുന്നു. അവള് സ്മിതയാണ്. പശ്ചാതാപമൊ വേദനയൊ ഒന്നും ആ മുഖത്ത് കണ്ടില്ല. ആ മുഖമൂടി അഴിയുന്നു...സാമൂഹ്യ സധാചാരം അടിച്ചേല്പിക്കുന്ന ജൊണി എന്ന കുമ്മാട്ടിയുടെ മാന്യ മുഖമാണ് കണ്മുമ്പില്.
അവന് ഞെട്ടി ഉണരുന്നു. സമയം 9:00.
"ദൈവമെ, എന്തൊക്കെ ദുസ്സ്വപ്നങ്ങളാണ് കണ്ടത്. ആ കുട്ടിയോട് കുറച്ചുകൂടെ മൃദുവായി സംസാരിക്കേണ്ടിയിരുന്നു. അവളോട് ഇറങ്ങി പോകാന് വരെ ഞാന് പറഞ്ഞില്ലെ."
അവന് ചാടി എഴുന്നേല്ക്കുന്നു കട്ടിലില്നിന്ന്.
"സ്മിത എവിടെ അപ്പച്ചാ?"
അവന്റെ അങ്കലാപ്പ് അപ്പച്ചന് ശ്രദ്ധിക്കുന്നു.
"എന്നാത്തിനാ? അവള് കോളേജില് പോയി."
ഒാടി ഇറങ്ങുന്ന കൊച്ചുമകനെ നോക്കി ഒന്നും മനസ്സിലാകാതെ വൃദ്ധന്.
ജോണി കോളേജില് അന്വേക്ഷിക്കുന്നു. സ്മിത കോളേജില് ചെല്ലാറേയില്ല. മാര്ക്കുകള് മോശം. അവന് തിരികെ തറവാട്ടിലേക്ക് നടക്കുന്നു. അവളുടെ വഴി അവള് തിരഞ്ഞെടുത്തിരുന്നു.
സമയം വൈകുന്നേരം. അവളെ കാണുന്നില്ല. അവന് മുറിയില് അടച്ചിരിക്കുന്നു. തന്നെ പോലെ സന്ധ്യയും ഇരുട്ടിലേക്ക് മറയുന്നു. ജീന്സും റ്റീ-ഷര്ട്ടും ധരിച്ച് ബാഗും തൂക്കി പിടിച്ച് അവന് മുറിയില് നിന്നിറങ്ങി.
"സ്മിത മോളെ കണ്ടില്ല"
"പോലീസിനെയൊ അവളുടെ വീട്ടുകാരെയൊ അറിയിക്ക്. അവള് വരില്ല."
അവസാനവട്ടം എന്ന് മനസ്സില് ഉറപ്പിച്ച് ആ തറവാടിന്റെ പടികള് ഇറങ്ങി അവന് നടന്നകലുന്നു.
P.S - Just a simple, threadbare short story...more of an experimentation with the mother tongue.Best read with Internet Explorer and Anjali Old Lipi Font. Criticism most welcome.
"വടക്ക്...?"
പുച്ച ഭാവതൊടെ വഴികാട്ടി കൈകൊണ്ട് ആങ്ങ്യം കാട്ടി.
"ആ ... അവിടുന്നുള്ള വഴിയെനിക്കറിയാം. നന്ദി."
"ഇപ്പം സിഗറെറ്റ് കിട്ടുന്ന കട വല്ലൊം തുറന്നിരിക്കുമൊ ചേട്ടാ?"
"ക്കുഞ്ഞ് കാവിലെ എതു വീട്ടിലെയാന്ന പറഞ്ഞെ?"
"ഞാന് പറഞ്ഞില്ലല്ലൊ ചേട്ടാ". നടന്നകലുന്ന യുവാവിനെ നോക്കി അയാള് ഭൂമിക്കു പ്രഹരമേല്പ്പിക്കും വിധം ആഞ്ഞൊരു തുപ്പ്.
ഒരു സിഗറെറ്റും വാങ്ങി കത്തിച്ചവന് നടക്കുന്നു. മലകളിലിടയിലൂടെ ഒളിഞ്ഞുയരുന്ന ഉദയസൂര്യനെ അവന് ആദരപൂര്വം ഒന്ന് നോക്കി നിന്നുപോകുന്നു.
"സിറ്റി ജീവിതം മതിയാക്കിയാലോ," എന്നു തന്നോടു തന്നെ ചോദിച്ചു പോകുന്ന ഒരു സുന്ദര നിമിഷം. പരിശുദ്ധം എന്നു തോന്നുന്ന ഗ്രാമവായുവും നനഞ്ഞു കിടക്കുന്ന ഭൂമിയുടെ ലസിപ്പിക്കുന്ന ഗന്ധവും അവന് ആഞ്ഞൊന്ന് ഉള്ശ്വസിച്ചു. സ്വീകരിക്കാതെ വന്നു കയറിയ അതിഥി എന്നോണം സിഗറെറ്റിനെ ഒന്ന് നോക്കിയിട്ട് അവന് അതിനെ വലിച്ചെറിയുന്നു. അവന് പെറ്റുവീണ, ഇന്നു ദിവസങ്ങള് ചെല്ലുന്തോറും അന്യമായി തോന്നുന്ന തറവാട്ടിലേക്കു അയാള് നടന്നു. ഇവിടെ പടുവൃദ്ധരായ അപ്പച്ചനും അമ്മച്ചിയും മാത്രം. കുട്ടികാലത്ത് കൂടെ ഓടി കളിച്ച കസിന്സിനെയും ഒട്ടൊരുമയോടെ ജീവിച്ച എളാപ്പന്മാരെയും അവരുടെ ഭാര്യമാരെയും ഒന്നു അനുസ്മരിച്ചു. ഭാഗം വച്ചും വെക്കാതയും എല്ലാവരും തെറ്റി പിരിഞ്ഞു. അതില് ഒഴുകി പോയ സമപ്രായകാരായ കസിന്സിന്റെ സൗഹൃദം എന്നും ഒരു തീരാനഷ്ടം തന്നെ. വിശാലമായ റബ്ബര് മരങ്ങള് പൊതിഞ്ഞ വഴിയറ്റത്ത് തന്റെ തറവാട് കാഴ്ചയില് പെട്ടു. എന്ത് സുന്ദരമായ വീട്...ഇന്നത്തെ വീടുകള് വെറും അലങ്കാര വസ്തുക്കള്.
ഉമുക്കരിയിട്ടു പല്ലും തേച്ച് അതാ ഇറങ്ങി വരുന്നു സുമുഖനും എമ്പത് പോയിട്ട് അമ്പത് പോലും തോന്നിക്കാത്ത ഒത്ത ശരീരവും തടിയുമുള്ള തന്റെ അപ്പച്ചന്.
അപ്പച്ചന്റെ മസ്സില് തടവിക്കൊണ്ട്, "How are you young man?"
അവന്റെ ചോദ്യം കേട്ട് സന്തോഷത്തോടെയും അഭിമാനത്തോടെയും വൃധന്, "I am fine"
വീടിന്റെ അകത്തു നിന്നും നിര്താതെ ചുമ കേള്കുന്നു.
"കുട്ടന് വന്നൊ?"
അവന് അകത്തേക്ക് ചെന്ന് അമ്മച്ചിയെ കെട്ടിപിണരുന്നു.
"ഞാന് ചായ കൊണ്ടു വരാം," എന്ന് പറഞ്ഞിട്ട് വൃദ്ധ അടുക്കളയിലേക്കു കൂനി കൂനി നദന്നു. വീണ്ടും തോരാത്ത ചുമ കേട്ട് യുവാവിനു വ്യസനം.
"ഒരു ജോലികാരിയെ വെക്ക് എന്റെ അമ്മച്ചി. അതിലും പിഷുക്കല്ലേ."
"ആളെ കിട്ടണ്ടേ എന്റെ മോനെ. ആരെങ്കിലും വന്നു നിന്നാല് തന്നെ അപ്പച്ചന് പിണക്കി തിരിച്ചയക്കും. എനിക്ക് കഷ്ടപ്പെടാനാണന്നെ യോഗം."
തന്റെ ബാഗ് തുറന്നു പരിശോദ്ധിക്കുന്ന വൃദ്ധനെ കണ്ട് യുവാവിന്റെ മുഖത്തൊരു ചെറുപുഞ്ചിരി.
"ഇല്ല. അപ്പച്ചന്റെ ഐറ്റം കൊണ്ടുവന്നിട്ടില്ല. കഴിഞ്ഞ പ്രാവശ്യം ഓവര് ആയത് മറന്നൊ?"
"What a fellow you are?" നിരാശ കലര്ന്ന സുന്ദര മുഖതിന്റെ വിളര്ച്ച തെല്ലൊരു കൗതുകതൊദെ അയാള് ശ്രദ്ധിച്ചു നിന്നു,
"റാപിടെക്സ്കാര്ക് അപ്പച്ചന്റെ ഇംഗ്ലീഷ് ഒരു പരസ്യം ആകാമായിരുന്നു."
"ഉവ്വ...ഉവ്വ. ഇത് റാപിടെക്സാണന്ന് നിന്നോടാരു പറഞ്ഞു. ഞാന് സ്കൂളില് പഠിച്ചത് ഇന്നും മറന്നിട്ടില്ല."
ഒരു പെണ്കുട്ടി കടന്നു വരുന്നു. 20-22 വയസ്സ് തോന്നിക്കുന്നവള് വേഷം ധരിചിരുന്നത് ഒരു ചുരിധാറായിരുന്നു. നാണം കലര്ന്ന ചെറുപുഞ്ചിരിയും സൗന്ദര്യത്തെക്കാള് ഏറെ വല്ലാത്തൊരു പ്രസന്നതയാണ് അവന് അവളില് കണ്ടത്.
സംശയിച്ചു നിന്ന അവനെ കണ്ട് അമ്മച്ചി:
"നിനക്ക് സ്മിതയെ അറിയില്ലെ. മരിച്ചുപോയ മാത്തുകുട്ടിയുടെ മകളാണ്. ഇവിടെ എഞ്ചിനീറിങ്ങിന് പഠിക്കുന്നു. പുതിയ കോളേജ് ആയതുകൊണ്ട് ഹോസ്റ്റെലില്ല. പിന്നെ ഞങ്ങല്ക്കും ഒരു കൂട്ടായി. "
"ജോണിചേട്ടന് ഇപ്പം വന്നെ ഒള്ളൊ?"
"ചേട്ടനോ! നിന്റെ അങ്കിളാണടി കൊച്ചെ."
"ആയ്യോ! ചേട്ടന് വിളി തന്നെ ധാരാളം. നമുക്കത്ര പ്രായം ഒന്നും ആയിട്ടില്ലെ."
"കുഞ്ഞമ്മ മാറിയെ. ഞാന് കാപ്പി തയ്യാറാക്കാം," എന്നും പരഞ്ഞവള് അടുക്കളയിലേക്കു കയറി.
"നിന്റെ ബിസിനസ്സ് ഒക്കെ എങ്ങനെ".
"ആ ചൊദ്യത്തില് നിന്ന് രക്ഷ എങ്ങും കിട്ടില്ലെ?" എന്ന് ജോണി ഓര്ത്തു.
എന്നിട്ട് കാരണവരോട് നീരസത്തോടെ മറുപടി പറഞ്ഞു: "വല്യ മെച്ചം ഒന്നും ഇല്ല."
"അടച്ചു പൂട്ടണെങ്കില് നീ ഇങ്ങു പോരെ. റബ്ബറിന് നല്ല വിലയാ."
ക്രൂരമെന്ന് തോന്നുന്ന വാക്കുകളോട് പ്രതികരിക്കണൊ വേണ്ടയൊന്ന് ജോണി ഒരു വട്ടം ആലോചിക്കുന്നു, ആ നിമിഷവും കടന്നു.
"ആ ചെറുക്കന് വന്ന് കയറെണ്ട താമസം, പോരു കൂട്ടി തുടങ്ങി."
ജോണിയും സ്മിതയും ഉറക്കെ ചിരിക്കുന്നു.
"സ്മിതയ്ക് ഇന്ന് എന്താ പരുപാടി? ഇവരുടെ ഇടയില് കിടന്നു അടികൂടാനും പരിഹരിക്കാനും കമ്പനിയുണ്ടല്ലൊ."
"എനിക്ക് ക്ലാസ്സൊണ്ടല്ലൊ."
"പോകെണ്ടന്നെ. കട്ട് ചെയ്യ്."
"നീ പോടാ. മോള് പോയി പഠിക്കാന് നോക്ക്."
അവന് നാടുകാണാന് ഇറങ്ങി. റബ്ബര് വില ഉയര്ന്നപ്പോള് നിദ്രയില് നിന്നെന്നോണം സഡകുടഞ്ഞെഴുന്നേറ്റ മുതലാളിമാര് എങ്ങും. വെയിലത്തു തിളങ്ങുന്ന തകര്പ്പന് വണ്ടികള് എങ്ങും.
"ദൈവമെ...പണ്ടത്തെ ഇടിവ് മറന്നുവൊ ഇവര്?" ആര്ഭാടങ്ങള് കണ്ട് ജോണി തന്നോടു തന്നെ ചൊദിച്ചു പൊകുന്നു.
പണവും പ്രതാപവും ഉള്ള ചിലര്...അവരോട് മത്സരിക്കാന് വേറെ ചിലര്. കേരളത്തിലെങ്ങോളം എന്ന പോലെ ഇവിടെയും മാറ്റങ്ങള്...ഗ്രാമങ്ങള് റ്റൗണുകളായി മാറുന്നു.
രാത്രി. ചുറ്റുമുള്ള മലകളില് നിന്നും തിളങ്ങുന്ന ലൈറ്റുകളും ആകാശത്തിലെ നക്ഷത്രങ്ങളും തമ്മില് എന്ത് സാമ്യം എന്നവന് അലോചിച്ച് നില്ക്കുന്നു. കാറ്റിന്റെ അഭാവം അവനെ തെല്ലൊന്ന് അസ്വസ്തനാക്കുന്നു. പടികയറി റ്റെറസ്സിലേക്ക് ആരൊ വരുന്നപോലെ അവന് തോന്നുന്നു. അവളാണ്...സ്മിത. അവളെ പ്രതീക്ഷിച്ചെന്നോണം അവന്റെ മുഖതൊരു മന്ദഹാസം. താഴെ ടിവി സീരിയലില് നിന്നുണര്ന്ന ഒരു അലമുറ. അവനു ചിരിവന്നു. അവളും ചിരിക്കുന്നു.
"ടിവി സീരിയല് കാണാതെ സ്മിത ഈ വീട്ടില് എങ്ങനെ ജീവിക്കുന്നു?"
"എന്നെ കാണിക്കല്ലെന്നാണ് വീട്ടില് നിന്നും കുഞ്ഞമ്മയ്ക്ക് കിട്ടിയിട്ടുള്ള ഓര്ഡര്."
ഒരു നിമിഷം പ്രകൃതിയും മനുഷ്യനും യന്ത്രവും എല്ലാം നിശബ്ധം. പിന്നെ വീണ്ടും ഇടവിടാതെ ടിവിയില് നിന്ന് അലമുറ.
"കുട്ടികാലത്ത് ഇവിടെ വന്നിരുന്ന് എത്ര രാത്രികള് ഞാന് തള്ളിനീക്കി."
"നാളെ തന്നെ പോകുമൊ?"
"ഹും. എന്താ...എന്നെ മടുത്തൊ?"
"അയ്യോ. അതല്ല. ഇവിടെ ഇത്രയും ഇഷ്ടമാണെങ്കില് എന്നാത്തിനാ തിടുക്കത്തില് പൊകുന്നെ?"
"അവിടെ നിന്ന് കാണുമ്പം ഇവിടെ സുന്ദരം. ഇവിടെ വരുമ്പം ഞാന് പ്രതീക്ഷിച്ചെത്തുന്ന പലതും ഇല്ല എന്നൊരു തിരിച്ചറിയല്. ചന്ദ്രനില്ല. നിലാവില്ല. ഒരു ചെറുകാറ്റുപോലും കനിയുന്നില്ല. കൂടെ നില്കുന്ന പെണ്ണ് എന്റെ അനന്തിരവളും. How unromantic!"
അവന് ജാള്യത കലര്ന്ന ഒരു ചിരി അഡക്കുന്നു.
"കല്യാണം കഴിച്ചുകൂടെ ചേട്ടന്?"
"എന്നിട്ട് എന്ത് ചെയ്യും?"
"ഈ പറഞ്ഞ romantic feeling..."
"അത് സിനിമയിലും കവിതയിലും നമ്മുടെ ഭാവനയിലും മാത്രം. തിരക്കൊഴിയുമ്പോള് ഒരു മധുര സ്വപ്നം കാണാന് പോലും ഉന്മേശമില്ലാതെ ഞാന് ഉറങ്ങും."
"എനിക്ക് ഉറങ്ങാറായി ചേട്ടാ. ഞാന് പോകുന്നു."
കിടന്നിട്ടും ഉറക്കം വരുന്നില്ല. അലട്ടുന്ന പല പ്രശ്നങ്ങള്.
"എവിടെയും ആശ്വാസം കിട്ടുന്നില്ലല്ലൊ ദൈവമെ."
അവന് ഒച്ചയുണ്ടാക്കാതെ റ്റെറസ്സിലേക്ക് കയറുന്നു. വാതില് തുറന്നിരുന്നു, മങ്ങിയ വെട്ടത്തില് ഒന്നായി തൊന്നും വിധം രണ്ടു ശരീരങ്ങള് ചുമ്പിക്കാന് ഒരുങ്ങുന്നു. അവന് നടുങ്ങി.
"എന്നാ ചെയ്യും," തന്നോട് തന്നെ അവന് മന്ത്രിച്ചു.
കോണിപടിയിറങ്ങാന് അവന് ഒരുങ്ങുന്നു. ആ കുട്ടി തനിക്ക് വേണ്ടപെട്ടവള് അല്ലെ. അവള് ചെയ്യുന്നതെന്തെന്ന് അവള് അറിയുന്നുവൊ? കുടുമ്പം, സമൂഹം, വ്യവസ്ഥിതി...എല്ലാം അവളെ വേട്ടയാടില്ലെ...വെറും ഒരു രാത്രിയുടെ കാമഭങ്കത്തിനു വേണ്ടി. ഒരു സംശയം മാത്രം ബാകി...രക്തബന്ധം ചുരുങ്ങിയ സമയതിന്റെ പരിചയത്തിന് സമം തന്നെയോ. രണ്ടും കല്പിച്ച് അയാള് വാതിലില് തട്ടുന്നു. ഒരു നിലവിളി പുറപെടുവിച്ച് അവള് നിലത്തേക്ക് പതിക്കുന്നു. പുരുഷ രൂപം ധ്രിതിയില് തന്റെ അടുക്കലേക്ക് നീങ്ങുന്നത് കണ്ടു പരുങ്ങുന്ന ജോണി അയാളെ ഭയം കലര്നെങ്കിലും ശ്രദ്ധിച്ചു നോക്കുന്നു. തന്റെയത്രേം പ്രായം. താടിയുണ്ട്. ശര്ട്ടും മുണ്ടുമാണ് വേഷം. പടിയിറങ്ങുന്ന രൂപത്തെ തന്നെ അവന്റെ കണ്ണുകള് പിന്തുടരുന്നു. തിരിഞ്ഞ് നിലം പതിച്ചു കിടന്ന സ്മിതയുടെ അരികിലേക്കവന് പകച്ചു നീങ്ങി. സടകുടഞ്ഞെഴുന്നെറ്റ് പഴയ പ്രസരിപ്പും ഒരു പുതിയ ധിക്കാര ഭാവവും അവളുടെ മുഖത്ത് പ്രകടമായി.
"ഒന്നും പറയേണ്ട ജോണിച്ചായന്. അയാള് എന്റെ കൂട്ടുകാരനാണ്."
"കൂട്ട് കൂടാന് സമപ്രായക്കാരെയൊ കൂടെ പഠിക്കുന്നവരെയൊ നിനക്ക് കിട്ടിയില്ലെ?"
അതിന് അവള് മിണ്ടിയില്ല. ഒരു ബൈക്കിന്റെ ശബ്ദം. അതു നിലച്ചപ്പോള് തന്നെ ലജ്ജ കൂടാതെ തുരിച്ചു നോക്കുന്ന പെണ്ണിനെ കണ്ടയാള് അദ്ഭുതപ്പെടുന്നു.
"നിന്റെ അമ്മയെ കുറിച്ച് ആലോചിച്ചോ. നീ കാരണം ചീത്തപേരു കേള്കണ്ട സഹോദരിമാരെകുറിച്ചോ?
"ഉവ്വ". ദ്രിഡമായ അവളുടെ ഉത്തരം കേട്ടവന് ഞെട്ടി.
"ഞാന് ഒരു ഭാരം തന്നെയാണ് എന്റെ അമ്മക്ക്. അത് അവര് എന്നെ പലവട്ടം അറിയിചിട്ടുമുണ്ട്. ഞാന് എങ്ങനെ പോയാല് പിന്നെ ആര്ക്ക് എന്ത?"
"ഇപ്പം നന്നായി പഠിച്ച് നിനക്ക് ഒരു ജോലി കിട്ടി രക്ഷപെട്ടുകൂടെ?"
അതിനവള്ക്ക് മറുപടിയില്ല. മുഖം തിരിച്ച് കൈകള് മുടിയിലൂടെ തടവിയുള്ള അവളുടെ മൗനം തന്നെ അവന് വാചാലമായി തോന്നി. അവളുടെ നിശബ്ദ്ധത അഗാഡമായ ഒരു ക്രോധം അയാളില് ഉളവാക്കി.
"എന്റെ തറവാട്ടില് വേണ്ട നിന്റെ വിളയാട്ടം."
അയാള് ഉറങ്ങാന് ശ്രമിക്കുന്നു. തന്റെ ശകാരം അതിരു കടന്നോ? എത്ര പെട്ടന്നാണ് തന്റെ ദേഷ്യം കെട്ടടങ്ങിയത്. അവളോട് എന്തന്നറിയാത്ത സഹതാപം അയാളില് ഉടലെടുക്കുന്നു. പക്ഷെ നിദ്രയുടെ പടവുകള് അവനെ ബന്ധിയാക്കിയിരിക്കുന്നു. ഏതോ സ്വപ്നലോകത്തേക്കവന് മറയുകയാണ്. തന്റെ ഹൃദയത്തില് തട്ടികൊണ്ട് ഒരു ഉപദേശസ്വരം പുറപ്പെടുന്നു.
"പ്രിയപെട്ട സ്മിതെ, യൗവനം കഴിയുമ്പോള് ശരിക്കുമുള്ള ജീവിതം തുടങ്ങും. ഇന്നീ ചെയ്യുന്നത് അബദ്ധമാണെങ്കില്, നിന്നെ ഇത് ചെയ്യിക്കുന്ന അതെ യൗവനത്തെ പഴിച്ച് നീ ജീവിതം കഴിക്കില്ലെ?" ഈ വാക്കുകള് അവള് കേട്ടുവൊ? അതോ ഫാനിന്റെ കാറ്റുപോലെ ആ മുറിക്കുള്ളില് തന്നെ വട്ടം കറങ്ങുന്നുവൊ?
ഒരു പെണ്കുട്ടിയെ നാടുകാര് കല്ലെറിയുന്നു. അതിന് നേത്രിത്വം നല്കുന്ന ആള് മുഖമൂടി അണിഞ്ഞിരുന്നു. അവള് സ്മിതയാണ്. പശ്ചാതാപമൊ വേദനയൊ ഒന്നും ആ മുഖത്ത് കണ്ടില്ല. ആ മുഖമൂടി അഴിയുന്നു...സാമൂഹ്യ സധാചാരം അടിച്ചേല്പിക്കുന്ന ജൊണി എന്ന കുമ്മാട്ടിയുടെ മാന്യ മുഖമാണ് കണ്മുമ്പില്.
അവന് ഞെട്ടി ഉണരുന്നു. സമയം 9:00.
"ദൈവമെ, എന്തൊക്കെ ദുസ്സ്വപ്നങ്ങളാണ് കണ്ടത്. ആ കുട്ടിയോട് കുറച്ചുകൂടെ മൃദുവായി സംസാരിക്കേണ്ടിയിരുന്നു. അവളോട് ഇറങ്ങി പോകാന് വരെ ഞാന് പറഞ്ഞില്ലെ."
അവന് ചാടി എഴുന്നേല്ക്കുന്നു കട്ടിലില്നിന്ന്.
"സ്മിത എവിടെ അപ്പച്ചാ?"
അവന്റെ അങ്കലാപ്പ് അപ്പച്ചന് ശ്രദ്ധിക്കുന്നു.
"എന്നാത്തിനാ? അവള് കോളേജില് പോയി."
ഒാടി ഇറങ്ങുന്ന കൊച്ചുമകനെ നോക്കി ഒന്നും മനസ്സിലാകാതെ വൃദ്ധന്.
ജോണി കോളേജില് അന്വേക്ഷിക്കുന്നു. സ്മിത കോളേജില് ചെല്ലാറേയില്ല. മാര്ക്കുകള് മോശം. അവന് തിരികെ തറവാട്ടിലേക്ക് നടക്കുന്നു. അവളുടെ വഴി അവള് തിരഞ്ഞെടുത്തിരുന്നു.
സമയം വൈകുന്നേരം. അവളെ കാണുന്നില്ല. അവന് മുറിയില് അടച്ചിരിക്കുന്നു. തന്നെ പോലെ സന്ധ്യയും ഇരുട്ടിലേക്ക് മറയുന്നു. ജീന്സും റ്റീ-ഷര്ട്ടും ധരിച്ച് ബാഗും തൂക്കി പിടിച്ച് അവന് മുറിയില് നിന്നിറങ്ങി.
"സ്മിത മോളെ കണ്ടില്ല"
"പോലീസിനെയൊ അവളുടെ വീട്ടുകാരെയൊ അറിയിക്ക്. അവള് വരില്ല."
അവസാനവട്ടം എന്ന് മനസ്സില് ഉറപ്പിച്ച് ആ തറവാടിന്റെ പടികള് ഇറങ്ങി അവന് നടന്നകലുന്നു.
P.S - Just a simple, threadbare short story...more of an experimentation with the mother tongue.Best read with Internet Explorer and Anjali Old Lipi Font. Criticism most welcome.
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