As it has been for the last one and half months I woke up from a not so comfortable sleep, earlier it used to be the cock that sang its wake up alarm that woke up many in this part of the world, but now the original alarms too have lost its effect. Walking down the stairs wearing a Simpson cartoon boxer and cleaning my eye, i herd strange conversation from the kitchen.
“No she is too young for it”, shouted one of my aunts pushing out the steam cake (PUTT) from its hutch. “It’s everybody’s fate” my grand mom replied trying to lean down to the store desk and pick up something. “Poor lady she was so helping“, added my second aunt moving her wheel chair towards the gas stove. I thought it would be the normal chit chat the ladies do early hours and did not bother to inquire the matter.
Got few pieces of the steam cake and a glass of tea, and while the second aunt poured curry on them, the other aunt continued the topic, “She was taken to Trivandrum for check up”, “No...No... She wasn’t taken there she didn’t have any problems of that sort” replied the other. “No she had problem with her hands and chest pain was frequent, but then she was not taken to Trivandrum”. On hearing this the first aunt got a bit angry that her words were taken to be false and argued “how can you say that she was not taken there, I am pretty sure that had happened” and the other aunt made her statement clear and added on “I had met her a month back at a marriage and then she didn’t complain of anything of that sort, so how do you say that she was taken there”.
All these were happening and I was busy enjoying the taste of the steam cake and added my comment “the cakes have got awesome taste, it might rain today”, and the first aunt rubbished it “we are talking something important, and between that you are bringing up steam cake”. I was pretty surprised about the important discussion that they were into, and all of a sudden the other aunt added “she just have two kids; don’t know how they will be”. “ But I am sure she was taken to Trivandrum last month” the first one stud strong on what she argued, “ No she was not, she had met me last month” replied the other, “you both are wrong, if u want you can call their house and ask” grandmother joined in with her claims.
Finally I made up my mind and enquired about the whole thing. “KAKU’s wife’s mother passed away this morning, didn’t you know about it...?” I was quit puzzled, didn’t know what to reply, because the ladies have been arguing about her hospitalization the month before and not obliging to the fact that they should have been sitting praying for the departed one. Eating up the last piece of cake I walked towards the wash basin, “No” “No...” “Noo...” that was still going on in the kitchen.
And for once I felt bad for the lady who departed last night, after all she was the reason the ladies in the house were putting their tongues in fire. The poor Departed Soul.
TRK
Monday, November 22, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The walls talk
The 8 o'clock train reached Pattikkad station and I stepped out to feel the morning breeze in my home town. It is always a great feeling to be back home, after getting worked out in a polluted metro like Chennai. The Teek woods cover both the sides of the railway station not letting the sun to pierce through. And the early morning dew drops still hung around the leaves falling to the random gentle breeze that came by. I walked out of the platform to the auto park to reach home which is almost about a kilometer from the station.
There aren’t much people in my small home town who study outside the state, so each time I walk home with my bag pack on my back, people always looked out with a smile and always enquired about the well being outside. Walking through the lanes with broken roads cause of the last rains, I reached the sweetest place on earth where I belong, my home.
The door bell sounded more like a cuckoo who always sung the same composition, and Abbu opened the door, greeting me in, Ammi was still in kitchen preparing break fast, brother still in bed snoring and sister curled up with the blankets. I walked past to my room throwing the bag on the ground. And a moment later when I turned back the bag was well placed near the shelf. Of course mothers love their house to be clean and neat.
"Why do u always wear black? And why there is a pony on your back, and why are your jeans falling down your waist? "Those were the questions that I herd from Abbu each time he noticed my ware about." Have you said your prayers, did you brush and then come and have break fast" Ammi always yelled at the top of her voice. Those where the beautiful days when I always wanted to go home.
And now two weeks later, my study holidays began and am back home, and there is no one to open the door, I throw my bag on the ground and it still remain there when I turned back, there is no one to ask about my dressing even though I don’t have a pony on my back, even though I didn’t have a black t shirt, there are just walls around me, that echo the sounds it captured two weeks back.
My brother's bed is kept tidy, sister's blanket packed in the cupboard, their slippers kept in the shoe rack, their scent and all that Ammi left back for me lay in the house, the sweet home is no more and it feels the walls have some thing to say. Some thing that every other house, where parents fly away into the clouds leaving their kids home alone has to say.
I know there are reasons for being lonely, for being home alone, and I just wish I get over these sad memories that kill me day by day, those sounds that the walls echo.
T.R.K
Friday, September 24, 2010
In Soul Remembrance Of
Shabeer had come from Dubai for the first time after he left India a year back. Meeting him gave me special joy for more than one reason. The first was that of meeting a college friend after a year, and the second was not yet known until we both sat at sweet home in the evening for coffee. It was then that I met the most beautiful creations that one could dream to be with.
She had a serene like charm that could win any man’s heart, her eyes had gracious power and in it I lost myself deep in her, that the first sip of coffee hurt my tongue. She spoke with her eyes, her lips never moved even when the whole of public at the cafeteria smiled at her, for some time I was confused about her ability to speak, and the very next moment she spoke and her voice had the melody of Taylor swift singing to the tones of Mozart of Madras.
Dressed up in black and silver with a black HIJAB that covered her beauty from the strangers, she sat opposite my chair, along with Shabeer. Although my body sat there in front of her, in my mind, I had already extended my hands for friendship and more than that for all love I had developed for her in my heart. Shabeer’s sound brought me back to sense and I had my first hand shake with her, the touch of her soft, moist, warm, lucrative palm send passionate love current to my spine.
That was the time I decided she would be part of my life and I would win her at any cost, time passed by and on my trip to Doha two months back, I again met her, the same smile, the same smell and even the same dress, after having talked about the whole thing with my father, going against his emotional worries, I finally proposed her with a toast, and she readily agreed as if she had been waiting for me to hold her hands.
My friends and family liked her, I loved her more than all the girls who have been in and out of my life, we lived together, shared each and every thought I had, she sung all the tunes I loved to hear, my wrist always found comfort in her palm, we woke up to see each other, hugged to bid good bye, all my dreams were captured in her heart, and then the inevitable happened.
We both slept kissing good night, woke up to see each other and my sleep made me take turns, had to look away from her for some time, and when I turned back, she had gone, taking away all the happiness she had given, all the things that made me remind her, she vanished into the dry madras air or someone took her along, breaking my heart and I again fell on bed and this time it was lack of oxygen.
Her loss have given immense pain, She walked away creating an empty space in my life that even better looking ones of her gene does not sooth my heart. She was the solace I had in all my sorrows, just a finger touch on her palm and happiness poured in, she opened my windows to the outer world, let me explore new avenues, never complained of my arrogance or anger, her innocence had made me fall for her in deep and passionate love, and that reminds me of the saying that do not love anyone or anything more than your lord for your lord is the one who has blessed you with it.
On the 8th of September 2010, morning 9.15 while almost every other living soul in my hostel slept, my Nokia e-72, metallic maroon body, silver back, IMEI No: 351513049316943,updated on 31st march 2010 went missing in my bed. I suspect it to be theft so does the police and the hostel inmates, but no one actually knows who took it away. Every time I pass through a mobile store or I hear a SWADES theme music ringing in some ones phone, memories fly by. It lived with me for exactly sixty four days, and all those sixty four days I have had sun shine in my life.
If it doesn’t exist anymore in this world then waiting for its re birth, and if it still exists in some part of India waiting for it to return home, and if it still exists outside India, I would have to kill it, blocking all others who would want to use it.
T.R.K
She had a serene like charm that could win any man’s heart, her eyes had gracious power and in it I lost myself deep in her, that the first sip of coffee hurt my tongue. She spoke with her eyes, her lips never moved even when the whole of public at the cafeteria smiled at her, for some time I was confused about her ability to speak, and the very next moment she spoke and her voice had the melody of Taylor swift singing to the tones of Mozart of Madras.
Dressed up in black and silver with a black HIJAB that covered her beauty from the strangers, she sat opposite my chair, along with Shabeer. Although my body sat there in front of her, in my mind, I had already extended my hands for friendship and more than that for all love I had developed for her in my heart. Shabeer’s sound brought me back to sense and I had my first hand shake with her, the touch of her soft, moist, warm, lucrative palm send passionate love current to my spine.
That was the time I decided she would be part of my life and I would win her at any cost, time passed by and on my trip to Doha two months back, I again met her, the same smile, the same smell and even the same dress, after having talked about the whole thing with my father, going against his emotional worries, I finally proposed her with a toast, and she readily agreed as if she had been waiting for me to hold her hands.
My friends and family liked her, I loved her more than all the girls who have been in and out of my life, we lived together, shared each and every thought I had, she sung all the tunes I loved to hear, my wrist always found comfort in her palm, we woke up to see each other, hugged to bid good bye, all my dreams were captured in her heart, and then the inevitable happened.
We both slept kissing good night, woke up to see each other and my sleep made me take turns, had to look away from her for some time, and when I turned back, she had gone, taking away all the happiness she had given, all the things that made me remind her, she vanished into the dry madras air or someone took her along, breaking my heart and I again fell on bed and this time it was lack of oxygen.
Her loss have given immense pain, She walked away creating an empty space in my life that even better looking ones of her gene does not sooth my heart. She was the solace I had in all my sorrows, just a finger touch on her palm and happiness poured in, she opened my windows to the outer world, let me explore new avenues, never complained of my arrogance or anger, her innocence had made me fall for her in deep and passionate love, and that reminds me of the saying that do not love anyone or anything more than your lord for your lord is the one who has blessed you with it.
On the 8th of September 2010, morning 9.15 while almost every other living soul in my hostel slept, my Nokia e-72, metallic maroon body, silver back, IMEI No: 351513049316943,updated on 31st march 2010 went missing in my bed. I suspect it to be theft so does the police and the hostel inmates, but no one actually knows who took it away. Every time I pass through a mobile store or I hear a SWADES theme music ringing in some ones phone, memories fly by. It lived with me for exactly sixty four days, and all those sixty four days I have had sun shine in my life.
If it doesn’t exist anymore in this world then waiting for its re birth, and if it still exists in some part of India waiting for it to return home, and if it still exists outside India, I would have to kill it, blocking all others who would want to use it.
T.R.K
Saturday, September 4, 2010
The Conjure
After having stayed two days with Rameez and Nashmal, at their rented flat in cochin, I and Wasiq were to set back our journey home. The holly month entering its last ten days and the believers of the book doing any thing and everything possible to forfeit their sins, we re-scheduled our selves so as to reach home in time for break fast.
As per Nashmal's enquiries, the bus to my home town was at 2 pm, by the time we reached the depot, it was already over crowded like any Indian bus. Having no uncertainities in mind I and Wasiq borded the bus, walking past the standing passangers, we settled our selves in the later half of the bus, where there were no standing passengers.
The bus started to move and we were lucky enough to notice a man of late fourties trying to vacate his seat, with immense joy, i made Wasiq to sit, not just that he was my younger sibling, but he is a Middle east product as of now and havent had the experience of long travels with out a seat.
It wasn't much to the embarkation that i found a girl of early twenties standing at a distance of 10 feet. She looked like those ones who took an oath in her mother's womb, that she would never give up her 'size zero'. Wearing a skinny salwar kameez, her hair's length almost touching the end of her spines, spoting the typical keralite 'sindoor' on her forehead, eyes full of innocence, specs that had a thin frame black in colour, and a dark blue school bag on her shoulders (i still wonder why she never kept that in the luggage rack) and with a partly made up smile she stood there holding the metal bar on the roof.
There was some sort of an electric vibe that struck me, i happened to gaze at her, and it continued for quite some time, i turned of the music in my head phone, turned my eyes on to other things around so as to deviate my attention from her, i at times felt there was a spark in her eye that kept me gazing on to her, scratched my head in thoughts, trying hard to find out the last time i had met this lady standing ten feet away.
The bus moved at its constant speed, passengers moved in and out, the girl still didn't move out of my sight. Was it at the Ideal feasta that we met last, or was it at the 'Sicasa' in chennai, i cursed my brains for not responding in time like an out dated processor in Azad's laptop, the inability to recognise her turned the nostalgia into sadness and anger. It was then i realised that she was gazing at me too, not always but our eyes did meet at times, and each time our eyes met her lips widened a bit, and she turned her eyes down.
I recollected all that i could from the one fourth of my brain that was in use, her face did appear to be known and seen many times, but her name nor the place where i saw remained a question mark. That was the time i thought i would put my steps forward and try and talk to her, find out the last time we met, as i put my right leg forward the bus stoped at the Trissur bus depot and she walked smiling towards me, i for once did thank god for giving the girl the memory and courage to walk up to me. With a small smile and a ' do i know you ' attitude on my face, i was almost to forward my hands for a shake and a pretty beefed up shoulder rubbed my hand and i lost balance and slanted onto the seat next by, and with utmost anger when i turned back i saw the girl shaking hands with the man who was behind me. Immediatly changed my facial expressions, herd the message tone in my mobile, recollected my sence, found a vacant seat and looked back to the girl, and saw both of them walking out hand in hand.
Shrugged about the whole event, i read the text message on my screen. It read " beautiful women are like the mirage in the desert, attainable from far, deceptive at the end ". I raised my eye brow to make sure the sender wasn't GOD.
The bus moved on and Wasiq got the seat next me, and with a light voice i whispered..GOD DAMN - ILLUSION...!!!
T.R.K
As per Nashmal's enquiries, the bus to my home town was at 2 pm, by the time we reached the depot, it was already over crowded like any Indian bus. Having no uncertainities in mind I and Wasiq borded the bus, walking past the standing passangers, we settled our selves in the later half of the bus, where there were no standing passengers.
The bus started to move and we were lucky enough to notice a man of late fourties trying to vacate his seat, with immense joy, i made Wasiq to sit, not just that he was my younger sibling, but he is a Middle east product as of now and havent had the experience of long travels with out a seat.
It wasn't much to the embarkation that i found a girl of early twenties standing at a distance of 10 feet. She looked like those ones who took an oath in her mother's womb, that she would never give up her 'size zero'. Wearing a skinny salwar kameez, her hair's length almost touching the end of her spines, spoting the typical keralite 'sindoor' on her forehead, eyes full of innocence, specs that had a thin frame black in colour, and a dark blue school bag on her shoulders (i still wonder why she never kept that in the luggage rack) and with a partly made up smile she stood there holding the metal bar on the roof.
There was some sort of an electric vibe that struck me, i happened to gaze at her, and it continued for quite some time, i turned of the music in my head phone, turned my eyes on to other things around so as to deviate my attention from her, i at times felt there was a spark in her eye that kept me gazing on to her, scratched my head in thoughts, trying hard to find out the last time i had met this lady standing ten feet away.
The bus moved at its constant speed, passengers moved in and out, the girl still didn't move out of my sight. Was it at the Ideal feasta that we met last, or was it at the 'Sicasa' in chennai, i cursed my brains for not responding in time like an out dated processor in Azad's laptop, the inability to recognise her turned the nostalgia into sadness and anger. It was then i realised that she was gazing at me too, not always but our eyes did meet at times, and each time our eyes met her lips widened a bit, and she turned her eyes down.
I recollected all that i could from the one fourth of my brain that was in use, her face did appear to be known and seen many times, but her name nor the place where i saw remained a question mark. That was the time i thought i would put my steps forward and try and talk to her, find out the last time we met, as i put my right leg forward the bus stoped at the Trissur bus depot and she walked smiling towards me, i for once did thank god for giving the girl the memory and courage to walk up to me. With a small smile and a ' do i know you ' attitude on my face, i was almost to forward my hands for a shake and a pretty beefed up shoulder rubbed my hand and i lost balance and slanted onto the seat next by, and with utmost anger when i turned back i saw the girl shaking hands with the man who was behind me. Immediatly changed my facial expressions, herd the message tone in my mobile, recollected my sence, found a vacant seat and looked back to the girl, and saw both of them walking out hand in hand.
Shrugged about the whole event, i read the text message on my screen. It read " beautiful women are like the mirage in the desert, attainable from far, deceptive at the end ". I raised my eye brow to make sure the sender wasn't GOD.
The bus moved on and Wasiq got the seat next me, and with a light voice i whispered..GOD DAMN - ILLUSION...!!!
T.R.K
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
The Bet, One complete fast...!
The peon rang the last bell for the last class of the season and we the senior students of the lower primary school, ran out rejoicing the fact that school would be shut for one complete month. The autumn of 96 had just begun and so was the holly month of ramadan.
It was customary for the lower and upper primary schools of the Malabar region of kerala to close for the holly month. Kids are enthusiastic about growing older before they really grow older. So was i, the bet with friends was of one complete day of fasting. My fasts always used to be twice in a day, from the seher to zuhar and then from zuhar to iftar.
Since the vacation had just begun, all most all my cousins were camped in my house, it was time for fun and frolic for the younger ones in the family. We played around all day, hide and seek to catcher catcher, swimming in the pond next by, plucking the unripe mangos and marinating them.
The break had just got to the nerves of all the kids and unexpectedly my grand father ( nana pa ) fell ill. He was aged and admitted to hospital and then the fun turned to gloom. We were more scared than being sad.
It was then my friend reminded of the bet 'one complete fast',i along with noushad, andu and muthu were pretty energized during the first half of the next day, morning went in quran recitation and prayer at the mosque. After noon was always a temptation for many, as food seemed tempting, it was then, one of my friends offered us to go for a long walk, to the next village, by the time we would reach back it would be evening and then breaking fast wouldn't be a problem.
We started our journey, and walked kilometers to the next village, and then town, and then thought returning back would be good to match the time equation, reached back in time for the magrib call for prayer, with great joy and pride i sat among the elders of the house for iftar, with a glass of lemonade and a liquid dish made of rawa, sat looking at the cloak, the count down began and i felt like i have won a war.
And then came the noise of the mic in the mosque near by being moved, and with all happiness, i gulped the complete lemonade in one go, slightly relieved and with the second breath i caught hold of the sweet dish and fell down, hitting the chairs around.. ' BANG '
I opened my eyes and saw a glucose bottle hanging on my side and ammi sitting near by, in the nursing home, she looked grumpy and inquired about my after noon hang out, caught in the middle of a mess, couldn't tell her i had walked to the next town with friends, had to lie, and she hugged me tight, even in the midst of all the fear of being caught i just had one thought humming in my mind.
I WON d bet, One complete fast...!!!!
TRK
It was customary for the lower and upper primary schools of the Malabar region of kerala to close for the holly month. Kids are enthusiastic about growing older before they really grow older. So was i, the bet with friends was of one complete day of fasting. My fasts always used to be twice in a day, from the seher to zuhar and then from zuhar to iftar.
Since the vacation had just begun, all most all my cousins were camped in my house, it was time for fun and frolic for the younger ones in the family. We played around all day, hide and seek to catcher catcher, swimming in the pond next by, plucking the unripe mangos and marinating them.
The break had just got to the nerves of all the kids and unexpectedly my grand father ( nana pa ) fell ill. He was aged and admitted to hospital and then the fun turned to gloom. We were more scared than being sad.
It was then my friend reminded of the bet 'one complete fast',i along with noushad, andu and muthu were pretty energized during the first half of the next day, morning went in quran recitation and prayer at the mosque. After noon was always a temptation for many, as food seemed tempting, it was then, one of my friends offered us to go for a long walk, to the next village, by the time we would reach back it would be evening and then breaking fast wouldn't be a problem.
We started our journey, and walked kilometers to the next village, and then town, and then thought returning back would be good to match the time equation, reached back in time for the magrib call for prayer, with great joy and pride i sat among the elders of the house for iftar, with a glass of lemonade and a liquid dish made of rawa, sat looking at the cloak, the count down began and i felt like i have won a war.
And then came the noise of the mic in the mosque near by being moved, and with all happiness, i gulped the complete lemonade in one go, slightly relieved and with the second breath i caught hold of the sweet dish and fell down, hitting the chairs around.. ' BANG '
I opened my eyes and saw a glucose bottle hanging on my side and ammi sitting near by, in the nursing home, she looked grumpy and inquired about my after noon hang out, caught in the middle of a mess, couldn't tell her i had walked to the next town with friends, had to lie, and she hugged me tight, even in the midst of all the fear of being caught i just had one thought humming in my mind.
I WON d bet, One complete fast...!!!!
TRK
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