All it takes...

The journey was tiresome. How long can one sit in a train this long and not get restless i wondered. In the midst of relatives, time flew and yet i felt the journey's grind. At times i shifted uneasily in my seat when i thought of him. Sure, he's my cousin and we grew up together and .... blah blah blah... but he's a salaried individual now. corporate guy, as they read in the papers in the village. and i am still that village, all of it. nothing about me has changed.

he went off to study in the big city four years back. and i hardly saw him between then. its mighty expensive, this travel, and it takes four days just to get home. so i never saw much of him even when he came... Now he was paying for all our tickets you know?! huyyoo. he must be making so much money to be able to do that. as the days lit up our space only to fade off, so did my hopes of finding him the same as i once knew. he's doing a duty by bringing us over to the city. he knows that his relatives will be very happy and commend his mother because he is doing this. and he knows how important that is to his mother. he was always a good son... i have read that in the city people live a very fast life. they have less time for much beyond oneself... what about him? was he a city guy now? i felt it unlikely that he was not. it was nobody's fault. i will never blame him. God knows, i might have become the same way if i had been in his place, maybe worse. I might not have even sent for my relatives this way. i frowned at myself and my thoughts....

the train pulled into a crowded noisy station. it was very very big. even bigger than the one we boarded from which was the nearest town. people walking to and fro, brisk movements, baggage, shouting, announcements, coolies pulling at my uncle's cloth bag... in the midst of it all, i made it a point to keep my mouth shut. everyone had so much to tell him. about the things we had made and brought him, telling him how thin and tired he had gotten, that his hair had grown too much... my little cousin, mouth agape, pulled at his trousers and felt his full-sleeved shirt... i smiled smally... everything was perfectly as i knew it would be. no problems. all was fine. we moved on, a small mass in this big mob making our way towards the exit.

i didnt notice that he slowed a bit.i looked up when i felt a nudge. he did not say a word ... his eyes, they were just the way they were when he first left the village... happiness is a warmth i knew then.. yes, everything was perfect and harmony reigned within.

PS:Dedicated to my brothers who have a gift for radiating love and happiness

And thats why...

. When i woke up in the morning i felt numb. The fear was overwhelming. When he told me he would go ahead of me and talk with them i was sceptical but let him. What could he do? They wouldnt listen to him. How could they. I had no clue how he was going to straighten things up. They hardly knew him.

. As i brushed my teeth, in no hurry, i mulled over it...the family is one in name alone. Those cold undercurrents have surfaced in the name of the silliest of trifles.It shamed me to tell him of the situation.And he did not reprove me as i confided in him last night.I felt small as i told him but he calmed me as i spoke to him...

. I intended to scream at the top of my lungs when i reached the house but then i thought twice. he had said he would talk to them. i didnt know what he had told them. i was not going to ruin it with my immature actions. I had called him on the way to the house. His voice was strong and calm as he told me to quit worrying and just come over. Everything was fine. I stopped nibbling at my fingernails...As i got out of the car, he came up to me and we walked in together. There was a dead calm about the room. the mother sat at the side sofa. I looked at him. He closed his eyes in assurance. I went up to her and sat by her side. She looked at me.. her chin trembled ...eyes welled up...

i gave a weak smile as i realized that things were going to be better after all...

I walked out, my hands firmly clasped in his and my heart full. I loved him more and more each day... i cant help it...

And thats why...

Thats why I pray every moment that I never have to live a life without my God.. and thats why i pray.

apart,Torn

unbid,crept in like a cold stream
through the confines of my heart
trailing a path i knew not
scorching the trails it traced

agony is the spark
gravity the import
life the victim
writhing unseen

" I Do "

I love him.

I have not met him yet but yes, i do. I have not seen him nor heard his voice,i do not know what he looks like,i do not know if he is short or tall,handsome or not,if he is soft-spoken or harsh,if he appreciates nature and its wonders,i do not know what his likes and dislikes are;but yes, i do.

I do not know if he has a temper,if he is capable of expression of his feelings-his heart's words,if he hates music or travelling, but yes, i do.I do not know if he will be possessive or totally detached or compromised,i do not know if he will love me the way i am,if he will like my wild ways,if he will reprimand me or love me more for it,if he will trek the hills with me,if he will treat me as an equal,as a child or high-hand me,if i will have to be strong for the two of us or if he will support me through my trivial tensions;but yes, i do.

I do not know if he is a family man,if he likes children,if he will come home early at the slightest opportunity,if he is a romantic or not,if he is playful or serious,if he likes socialising or is a loner; i do not know if he is passionate about life, i do not know if he loves God the way i hope he does or if he questions His very existence;but yes, i do.


I do not know if i will hum a carefree song in his presence, if i can shreik when i feel like it,if i can skip my way through the rooms again, but yes, i do.I know that my heart will hurt but i do not know for which;for my love returned beyond measure or for my love never reciprocated. I do not know if i will ever be the same again for better or for worse but yes, i still do love him,already. I Do...


PS. Inspired by my friend's upcoming (arranged) marriage and my own thoughts on the institution :)

A boy, a fish and thunder

It was during my term at the general clinic in a rural corner of our country (the place is of no consequence here and hence i purposefully forget its name) that i met Joseph. A measely kid of about 10,he didnt know his age.

I was in one of the worst phases of my life as i was finishing medical school.i felt rotten. not suprising for a divorced guy with half a dozen overdue bills to pay... not counting the fact that i owned a house no more... my 'ex-wife' got to keep it. she had a good lawyer.i would too if i had had the money to hire one to convince the court that i was being 'cheated' and left 'bankrupt'!!! well if you call having a pair of wealthy parents and owning a summer house besides a yacht as 'bankrupt' yep; she was bankrupt to the skin!..life was unfair alright... you bet it was... and i had every right to be bitter and grumble for all i cared. nobody was anybody to question me on that...

Joseph looked like any other kid there.. thin and emaciated. yet there was something about his eyes that drew me to him. it sparkled.he was dirty all over and had a ragged pair of shorts. no more. his eyes were the only clean thing on his face. i had no intention to be any kind of friend to him or for that matter to anyone at the time...i tolerated the kid;thats what i did. tolerated him.

he just showed up as i went on my rounds to the houses. he just sat by, hugging his knees as i examined or administered medicine to a patient. he listened as i spoke to them, mouth agape and lost to the world but for my voice.there were times when i spoke for him to hear.i had this notion that i was this really cool chap come down from the city and was glamorous and god-like to this street kid. so i just lived the part!

he knew he was different but he didnt know what to call it. rather, he did not know what We called it!

he knew every pebble by shape and he could explain how they were formed. he never had any kind of schooling... he could tell me the difference between the thorns of two rose bushes. i never knew they were different at all.to me thorns were just thorns. he spoke of the shapes of the rocks on the river banks as if they were alive... the rivers were not 'gurgling' to him. they were laughing...

if at any point of time my thoughts were distracted even for a moment, he could sense it. and he would be 'gone'... i could say nothing to get him back for me. he would start afresh when i was all ears again... my words futile. my actions were words to him.

he took me to his 'home' once. it was a tarpauline sheet supported by sticks against the stone wall of the orphanage.the orphanage was full. there was no place for him...they only fed him... stacked beneath a sheet here in his den was a set of cardboards, white ones and brown ones.it seemed trivial to keep them at all.

we watched kids play on the grounds from afar. he showed me how the dust rises when they kicked the ball. as the players moved on, his gaze would linger on the settling dust. he said if thunder had a form, it would be that cloud of dust. it came to life with a roar and subsided to nothing, as if it had never happened. as one player leapt up in the air to make a kick in the air, he talked about the time he had seen a tiger run up the hill on the village outskirts, after its prey. as we watched, there erupted a fight among the players,mainly two of them... a mongoose and a snake,each wanting to win... the weaker one for survival, the stronger one for pride and existence...

he described the motion and speed and grace of the players.there was wonder in his eyes,in his voice. how do they do it!? he was actually saying (in our language-we simplify things down so easily!).. isnt it awesome?glorious?

for him, nothing was unexplained. there was a reason for anything in life.everything was beautiful...vivid... the Creator was unparalleled in Glory, according to him. he did not preach any of this. he practised...

once as we sat by the river at the end of my(our) workday a fish got washed-in, near the bank.nothing new about that but before it could be taken back by the receding waters,he grabbed the flapping fish.it was quite large and was one of those species that can be out of water for a longer period.there was a serious deep slash across its belly... i dont remember learning or reading how to stitch a wounded fish anywhere in my medical books but i did just that. i did it when i saw the confidence he had in me. he did not ask or even look at me. just placed it before me... no, dont ask me if that fish is still alive. it seemed fine when we put it back.. thats all i know. perhaps it became a legend in the fish world or something...

i left the village after our assignment was completed in the same non-commital state i had gone there.thats what i thought but back in the city i knew i was not really the same. i had lost my bitterness.my humour was back in place and i smiled to myself as i jogged the same path...
perhaps the embers had not died down within me... that fire within us that believes in the wonder and goodness of life could still be kindled.

and so against all reason, i made back to that village one day, to meet the 'cool,glamourous and god-like' chap... he was not there. no, he had not died but was adopted.seems he was on the adoption list at the orphanage.i felt happy for him and wondered how soon it would take for them to recognise his special gifts.

life has not changed like a dream for me. but i have. recently i held this exhibition of my paintings.it took people a good deal of explanation to understand why i had named one 'thunder' and so on...

they ask me... why have i titled them "Asthma"...

words cannot do justice to the beauty and purpose of harsh truth sometimes...sometimes, just sometimes,there is a superior language...

Would To Me You Would Come

Life's darkest passages
dark enough to hide my life from me
The nights are long
The days are torture
wake up every day
yearning to come back here
wake up every day wishing i hadnt
A future as bleak as nothing i know
nothing to live for
nothing to hope on
find love irritating
an obligation
friends,family,relatives
care for none
and nothing
forgotten how to smile
horribly painful
i lie awake wishing
the sky were the ceiling
and the stars were above me
wishing i knew why i was alive..
what does mankind do
what do i do for mankind
whats the joy of it

whats the point??????

would to me you would come...
oh ye who seems unwelcome to everyone
thou art most welcome to me.
tell me not though
that i have to do this again
live
ever...

Its Her Story.... Chapter4

She has grown so frail i thought when i saw her. She was asleep when i called on a visit. The daughter, a middle aged woman;a beauty by herself smiled as she came at the door.

She came to the verandah where i sat, reading the newspaper. Her attire was dishevelled but a starched white.. neat and dignified as always. She looked at me with a question in her eyes. I had learnt to read them. It was so easy in fact. Those two sparkling windows were forever open.

Yes, i was reading the newspaper. Something i never did in my 16 years on this earth so far. I felt the change myself. Something about her was gripping my life, transforming me too. A sobering grip.

Today i was feeling a bit irritated even as i came in. Dad and Mom had joined forces to deny me permission for a late night party at Maggie's place. (Maggie is my best friend though we have a crush on the same person... ). I felt i was old enough to know what was right and what was wrong.
Moreover i was becoming a very mature girl after i had become friends with 'meea' (thats what i called her)... I was no longer seeing the world through rose tinted glasses. How could they not see the changes. The way i read the newspaper... i looked after my baby sister with no comlpaint... i enquired after my grandmother's health... i always took care to call home if i had extra classes... all those important changes...

I felt i could picture meeaa's youthful face. She was not a beauty ever. Her smile always reached her eyes. Thats what i saw in her.

She settled down into her armchair slowly with a strange smile. And looked at me again. Waiting for the reason.

"Meea... how was it when you were small? Did your parents make irrational rules on you?" I hoped they hadnt. I wanted to link my life to hers. Tread the path she had...

Once again she smiled. And closed her eyes. After the longest short silence i had endured, she said... 'No... they never did'...

I smiled and giggled... "They let you go to the neighbours' even if it were late right, meea?" I guessed that that was the equivalent of my party...

She only smiled....

Its Her Story.. Chap3

'He'


' "See her... aaa... there... the one thats laughing now?"


The man in question searched trying not to be seen to be doing so. He spotted her.

A girl with hair braided in two thin loops.. she wore a bright green skirt and red blouse.Laughing loud as the group moved in no great hurry... Her face radiated a confidence and happiness. The kind of expression that told you the girl was in command of herself... a worthy conquest she would be. The kind that gave a man a feeling of worth to possess.

"Marry her. She's the smartest of them. midukkiya..."

The friend looked at him. He was a handsome man himself.. in his 20's. Kuriachan was already earning a heap from his own shop. A man of honest means. They had been trying to rope him in with eligible Girls in the village but he was busy building his shop. He had a shrewd sense in money matters. The eldest of a family with 10 siblings. His only brother was the third child but died when he was only eight... Snake bite... The nearest hospital of any sort was many miles away and the medium to reach there was across the thickets, a swinging rope-bridge and a long dusty road flanked by the paddy fields... and yes, on foot.

"Her mother passed away when she was seven. And with three sisters" the friend was saying... effecting a sigh. Of course it meant nothing to the fellow.On the contrary it was a hint that if he should want her, she was more for the taking than the usual procedures afforded for any girl.

The man smiled.Yes, the bubbly little girl looked perfect for him.He had decided. And she was hers.He had seen her see him... Now they moved away in concentrated discussion about him... or so he thought.


'She'


It was the first day after summer vacation.

Naaniamma was telling her of how she had got a 'pottu' on her forehead." A permanent one.. not the ordinary smeared one.' Pick a big red ant by the middle.. its swollen back means its got an egg in it. pop the tiny white egg out tto.. then press it onto your forehead where you want the 'pottu'. It sinks right in, Kalyaniii.. 'sathyam'!" "noooo" rang the voices in unison and they laughed at her..

The teasing and wisecracks followed for sometime as naaniamma tried to convince them. Her cousin next door was a verrrry big person... mother of a two year old. The cousin was four years older than her, she said ...and a very wise person. She could make lots of curries.. more than they knew. She must be very smart because her in-laws were nice to her. Hence her source was of the most reliable nature.

After the due tauntings, they sank into a more sober discussion of the truth of the story. " i think we should try it today after school" she said now...Nobody said anything but it was understood. When Susamma said anything, it was usually common word. She had that quality about her. To absorb vibes... There were girls in her class who envied her being first in class always... and most of the boys resented it... It hurt their pride... coming from a mere trifle of a girl...it was too much to endure There were very few who just respected her. She was also the most fun-loving of the lot. Always into mischiefs outside school.

"But you know what.... i heard that doing so is good.It makes you intelligent"......

" No.... what i think is that it harmful to the skin. The egg will go into your forehead and drop into your eyes sometimes. naaniamma must have been lucky alleee?? "

"i have heard that the egg will open because of the heat of our body and the ant will eat up the skin.... "


Susamma was silent. She was thinking of what was going to be taught in class today.

Today the 'maash' ('teacher')would anounce the class marks also.. What would it be this time?

She envisioned herself running up the slope into the arms of her waiting father with her slate .. in elation... she wanted to hear her father commend her... he would do so... yes, she knew it. She sighed.

A feeling of security enveloped her as she looked up and they crossed the school gate...

Its Her Story.. Chapter2

It was some time before i realized i was thinking of her. i had got some free time to myself inspite of all the school work and started thinking of my future... aspirations... a career.. a love... all that would possibly make up my life... A world of possibilities. Anything is possible from here on... anything may happen... My whole life awaited me.

And then i thought about her... Didnt she have these moments? what did she want to be? what were her aspirations... her life's wants?I was surprisingly fascinated at the thought.. what could they be? In her times... i wanted to live her life for a few moments and see. But how can i...

She was very surprised when i asked her. That was no secret from her expression..'Child, thats a very queer question...' she said. But that was was not an answer to me.

Once again i saw her look away into the far distance. That familiar expression. The same fire in her eyes that had struck me always...

After a long silence, i followed her gaze as we sat on the verandah; as usual i was at her feet. Another house stood there opposite ours. She was definitely not looking at that! And then it struck me... a wild possibility...

Had she not ever thought of such things?!

I felt the pang that comes with a thought to assure you of the truth of it... My excitement died down in full realization of a simple fact. I turned to her again. She turned to me and then she smiled. That warm smile of comfort. As if she were telling me it was okay... me...telling me...

i looked down without smiling. I felt 50 years older. I saw that her life was never simple. Not comprehensible in my world. Once i had wondered what her world was like. But i had peppered it with a lot of romance. Maybe i had been watching too many movies. Perhaps not. Perhaps it was my fertile imagination.

'I didnt want for anything at 11, child. but now i know what to wish for...Now that you ask,i wanted me to grow up, finish my education... and then, maybe marry.' she sighed. 'but then, all i did was marry'.

When Goldilocks broke her silence.. A study in human nature.

DISCLAIMER:Resemblance to any person living or dead is puerely coincidental and non-intentional.

They say dynamite comes in small packages. And wasnt there something about wise men having few words?... hmmm... just a thought.

The first time i set my eyes on Goldilocks, she struck me as... simple.I noticed she had light eyes but she had a pair of bodyguards guarding them that prevented me from exploring the magnitude of mystery in those eyes. A smiling cute faced girl was all i thought.

Whats in a name? and how much do you go by appearances...

Goldilocks is a good friend of mine. I want you to meet her.

She's petite... err understatement... but then i hope my opening sentence does the trick. She's got a horrid complex over it... i think she's got a complex that she does not have a complex.

Its her silence that first puzzled.. then irked... and finally fascinated me.

Yeah.. those eyes. I had a chance to decipher their language when the bodyguards went to sleep sometimes. Goldilocks doesnt speak much. Silence is the most infinitely translated language i believe. She's got a stand.Her own rules to go by.

When everyone is shouting at the top of their their voice to be heard , many are the times i have seen her stand there... watching, not a word but watching;a slight frown and concentrated observation... those eyes... it was too obvious.A Studied silence. Individualistic attitude. When confronted or addressed, the words are bold and firm.

Hats off, i thought as i looked away from that face. In awe, i smiled to myself at the final unveiling of the uniqueness of human nature and the traits that go with it.

I could sit back and relax with the knowledge.. Lets have the feather in the cap...:

A part of a conversation i overheard...' goldilocks c'mon how come you keep mum most of the time?'

I turned and saw them. And i smiled to myself .It was our secret... what would she answer...

'processing time yaar... i dont get the swing of the conversation half the time'

$%&*@!!!!!

And with it, my years of research on the mysteries nd intricancies of human nature.


PS: i'll be available at the Centre for Learned Scholars of Human Behaviour. Planning on a PhD

Its Her Story...

" I bowed my head when i was 15 when grandpa tied the knot..." her eyes glittered.. and she smiled.. toothless. she had a very bright smile. But this time i saw only bitterness in her eyes. " and? " i asked. I am always hungry for a new story.I saw little distinction between the ones she always told me and this one.

She sighed. Something about it made me feel like i felt her life waift past me when i knew it was just her breath.Even i could feel the difference now. This was not the usual story, i knew. It excited me and i gripped her knees even tighter as i looked up into her face. She was not looking at me. Her eyes were set somewhere far beyond." and i never raised it again... never had a chance"

She never struck me as an ordinary woman... or lady.. .or what do you call such a person? She was frail, small and very old. Yet she did not have the bent and her eyes always fascinated me. There was fire in her eyes. Her eyes always promised life. It always promised me something out of the ordinary... each day. Sometimes i didnt feel up to her. She seemed so strong somehow. And yet i saw her eyes well up now. But she wept not.

" Seven stones... you know that game, child? you know how we play it? 'achan' called me in while we were playing seven stones... i was winning" she chuckled "as always" and looked at me . There was mirth in her eyes.

" And they got me into a new sari. And then to the church..."

Her eyes lost that joy that had flashed past for a moment. How was i to know... that when the ceaseless chatterbox of a girl stopped her chatter, her eyes took over.

I waited... in rapt attention... to hear of a world i never knew. A world i could not understand or comprehend... her world...