Back To School

When I think about the fun and frolic during the school days, sometime tears rub my cheeks, and there have been surprise reunions, but those vanished when I clean the eye sand off. The life at school is something that I have always wanted to be in, that’s where I feel I have always belonged to, and that’s where I have always been the real me. Light weighted study schedules, six hours of class, recess in between and good smiling friends who lightened up your day with all those discussions which others thought were silly.

I have always had a silent prayer to Allah that he put me back to those fun filled school days that I spend in the balcony and verandas of IDEAL INDIAN SCHOOL. Don’t know if the angel on my right shoulder recommended it for me, the ‘GMCS’ happened. Initially it was something that I thought as an outing just for the heck of it and a certificate from the ICAI that never let the students grow as social animals. Little did I know that I had my school life waiting for me at the building near heart hospital in Trichur.

Right from day one it was life back in the old school, energy, new friends who seemed to have been friends for ages. Or might be that I have been longing for days like these since all the classes I had after 12th were formal conference halls where the students didn’t know who was sitting next to them, nor they cared cause everyone had to rush to their office after the class. The GMCS was different.
Veena chechi’s sisterly affection, Badru’s Amrican brotherhood, Arun’s naughty stupidity, Ajoy’s ever smiling face, Monish’s happy go lucky nature, Mary’s eyes, Anu’s Middle Eastern English, Bell boy’s gestures with his specs, Ashok’s songs, Dimples shy smiles, Sreenath’s way of walking, Amritha’s MTI and of course my best friends who were with me right from Calicut; Azad, Sajil, Ahsan, Basith and Jithin all in a class room made me feel that I was sitting in grade 12th with a tie and a shoe.

We are stepping as corporate executives, our childishness had been hammered down by the hypocrisy called Chartered Accountancy, but these 15 days did really brighten my life. The joy of being there for each other, holding onto one another, doing action songs on kindergarten rhymes, Compiling a manual staying awake till 4 in the morning, presenting a case study without having known what the case was, Eating five plates of Biriyani and 3 glasses of Palada and driving all the way 12 in the night to a four star hotel near the cochin airport just to go to the restroom, the steam cake and fish curry at Akshaya, water guns and THE THRIKKOTTUR FAMILY. Damn, when I look back I feel I relived my school, my prayers were heard.

One intelligent guy once told me that you make friends and they depart and they depart so that you meet them again. I made new friends and we departed and now that we departed we would surely meet again, if not now might be later, but we will surely meet, because we together formed THE FALCONS, the royal birds those are never caged.

We,The People

Mr. X a priest in the temple was getting late for his duties, running out of time he got on to his T.V.S scooter and hurried. On the way he was stopped by the traffic police, to have a look at his license. It was then that he had realized he had forgotten it back home; the police man was about to tear the receipt of Rs.100, stuck in the run of time he offers the police Rs.50 because he felt Rs.100 was too much to lose early in the morning.

Mr. Y a student, who prayed five times a day, had surprise news that the next three days would be a holiday. He rushed to through the train ticketing counters just to realize that all the tickets were booked. Now that he had to travel in the general compartment with an open ticket, he chose to save on the ticket money and traveled ticket less back home. Any way the TTR would never enter the general compartment.
Ms. Z an engineer at a leading firm had great difficulties in getting into the job position she is now in. Not that she had to go through the various stages of the selection process, but that she really had to run behind her father to talk to his friend who was working in the HR department of the firm so that she would get selected over the candidates who had actually applied for the vacancy and probably more qualified than her.

Abc & Co, tax consultants were happy of earning Rs.5L from an individual client. Though not an easy task, they had to really bribe the registrar to change the purchase date of the asset that had earned their client huge tax amount including interest and once that the asset was made a long term one they successfully exempted their client of taxes.

These are not a newspaper clipping, things like these neither appear on the media, these are the things that happen in a common Indian’s daily life. Not just these but there are many more other simple events that happen in the daily life. So when a government elected by these common people prone to these simple forms of corruption comes into existence how can we blame the government alone to be corrupt. They are also a few among these common people. Just that the margin they save or earn at their level of office is much higher than a common man does.

We never count on the small things that we as Mr. X or Y or Ms. Z do rather we put the blame on others. We support the so called ‘Lok-Pal bill’ that would bring a committee to look for corruption among the ministers and The Prime Minister. But then again doesn’t this committee also have people of our country who could well again corrupt their hands when they get the power. Just like they say the most corrupt cell in the country is the anti-corruption department, what guarantee do we have that this committee so formed wouldn’t turn corrupt.

At this juncture where we are celebrating our nth year of independence and proclaim ourselves as proud Indians, let’s try and introspect how clean an Indian we are, and if we are not let’s try and improvise on that first, and then go about cleaning our politicians. Happy Independence Day.

T.R.K

Priorities in my life

I used to wake up hearing the noise that steel plates made in the kitchen, the wake up calls that the cocks sang; the Sanskrit news in ‘akaashvani’ radio and those sundry animals that marked their presence in the hood. Ammi used to push me to the front yard of my house and grandmother’s ‘kallu dosa’ was ready for breakfast, of which the first four were always reserved for me. While I ate them mixing it with tea and sugar, Ammi kept my ‘Madrasa’ kit ready.

I used to think of a time when I would stop going for the early morning Islamic classes and sleep like the elders at home. I used to be five then. Life was so simple, but for a five year old it was not that easy either, the tutor at the madrasa would ask to recite versus of The Holly Quran that had to be memorized; friends would make fun if Sourav Ganguly had been out cheaply in the previous day’s match and asking fifty paisa from Ammi for the candy at ‘ithiru thatha’s’ shop was a herculean task.

Times change so fast, I always wanted to grow old and start working when I joined school, although my thoughts on a professional career was not much of interest to people at home, since I wanted to be a peon at the school so that I could ring the last bell for home. Cricket in the rain and swimming in ponds in the farm filled the rest of the day.

When I was in eighth grade, I so wanted to be part of the school cricket team, which was the only thing I had prayed when I had gone for ‘Umrah’. A play station, a computer, a mobile phone, a laptop and these prayers never stopped till I finished my schooling. All of these had been top priority at some stages of life.
Now that I’ am twenty three and an exam away from the end of my student life, all those priorities I had in the past seem so funny. Not because I don’t value it any more, nor that I don’t have prayers for any other things in life; just that life was a lot easier then. If I had problem I could just sleep the night off and the next day those were solved. Now if there is a problem even sleep doesn’t come to the rescue.

I have just lived nearly a quarter of my life, when I go to bed now I have a lot to think. And those are not just for the next day, but about the things that are going to be part of my entire life from now on. The upcoming exams, choice of being an internal auditor or financial analyst, and most importantly about my family and the girl who waits on the other side hoping I would hold her hands some day.

And again now that it’s five in the morning and I was to get up had I been the same five year old kid, I have to sleep now that I have been awake the whole night. And when I go to sleep I so wish and pray these priorities of life that I have now just fall in place by the next time I open my eyes.

' The Un educated Literates '

Going home to Kerala has always been sentimentally nostalgic. The gentleman with in the white uniform signalled with the green flag, and the Palghat – Nilambur passenger took off at snail speed. The train started gaining speed as the sun was regaining his empire up in the sky. The dry hot summer was yet to arrive and the early morning dew was dripping off the leaves. The banks of the sacred BHARATH River, green paddy fields, and mighty huge banyan trees all bowed down for me.

I carried with me sore throat, sticky nose block and light temperature that the Chennai city had cursed on me for the past one week. I thought it was more of a physiological impact that as soon as I touch down my home station, I forget the fact that I was not at ease. The one year old kid who was in the next birth of my compartment, the previous night had left me sleepless and that might well be the reason why I dozed of the moment I found my bed.

The India – England world cup match was to begin in some time and my friend dragged me to the sports club nearby. It is always festival when India plays cricket. All the youth at sports club had their own favourite players and prayed for their performance and some even fight for their most supported player. I was sipping my favourite black tea with lemon and extra sugar, and waiting for Pathan to come out to bat.

It was then that someone called for me; it wasn’t a voice that I have heard off late, with a bit of excitement I turned back and looked at the corner of the room to find a guy with curly hair sitting and smiling at me. For once I couldn’t recognize the face and then like those Bollywood movies of the eighties my life’s reel rolled back. It was ‘Natheesh’ my class mate till grade 4 at the lower primary school.

The cricket match went on in full swing and each time the ball crossed the boundary people at the club clapped hands, I was busy talking to my friend, it was indeed ages since I met him. We talked about the things happening around the town, the new movie releases and the same old debate that Mammuka was better than Mohan Lal. I was a bit reluctant to ask him about his studies, but never the less I enquired. He smiled first and then told; he cleared his SSLC in his second attempt and was looking after the farm with his father.

The day passed and India shamelessly tied the match with England, I had lost my sleep to that and was trying to deviate my thoughts and that ended up at the school ground of my lower primary school where we played soccer till the bell rang at 4. It was fun times then, no thoughts about future, where one would be after graduation, no thoughts as to the place where you would want to settle down, no ledgers to scrutinize and no reports on audit to be submitted on date.

Off the forty plus students in my class then only four of us have completed degree and three of us are doing a professional course. The rest of them; the girls got married in between their studies, and some of their kids are already at the kinder garden, and the boys most of them dropped off schooling after their tenth, and few of them flew to the middle east in search of oil fields and the rest sit at the bus stop in the evening to talk about the latest development in the local politics.

Had my parents not been teachers, had I not shifted to Doha, had I been part of this normal government school going children till 10th, I think even I would have been doing the same as my class mates of 4th do now. We boost of a cent percent literate state, but yet our higher education system is one of the weakest in the world. We offer free education till 10th and might be till 12th, but after that we eat up the whole of the savings in our education.

It is high time we need to re analyze our educational system, else more and more of ‘Literate and partially uneducated’ youth would be dumped into our society.

T.R.K

The Rejuvenation..!!!

Its a never ending wait
Life has got to melt
ever since you made it here
and never that we gona hear

Out through the window,
out through the door
Its you my eyes searched for
knowing you will never make it
on and on goes the wait

Laying back in my bed
getting you off my head
still your memories hit
and life has got to melt,

And now that i wait no more
and smoke my life at the corridor
and that you would leave
in a few days from now
love has lost its glow

Its a never ending wait
life has got to melt..!!!!!

TRK
P:S: written for a rock band..!!