Monday, September 30, 2013

The Village

The stories of this village have no connection to the Night Shyamalan’s isolated country side. This is a story of a village quarantined by ideas of outspoken people living on the banks of river periyar near Western Ghats just 3-5 km from reserve forest. They are bold and beautiful people. Ready for the ‘poru’ (battle) like the periyar flowing through dense forest with rocks and whirlpools. The gushy water from edamalayar and idduki can be dangerous here….periyar flowing between malayattor in north and paniyeli in south has sparkled all the known beauty ….the stories flow like the river that had made those round rolling…….Boundaries of houses are built by these round stones and I could read between them ‘stories that flow like river’ that shaped it and had flowed away.. Every house has a story… everyone has a tale to tell about….

Death and Life

The story STARTS from end 2013 … son had inherited the genetic makeup of his father’s place…he likes raw mangoes with salt and chilli powder. He like to play big red and black ants…he catches ‘parachellu’…he licks his curry bowl of ‘manga curry’…he eats lot of tapioca and jackfruit. He never forgets to seek whereabouts of people around…he is always busy doing little little work and calls it ‘thozhilorrapu’ (Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Act). 
The story travels back through the beautiful manmade forest with rubber trees….through the cocoa plantation and through the teak wood. In front of our house is an old church with cemetery facing our courtyard, my husband’s has told me once that his childhood was filled with lots of ghost stories… (my son too believes it, as he saw one recently in his first movie )…….he used to scare every one and listen to the sounds of broken skeleton falling down to the pit…but he has never heard the sound that I was hearing since few months….the sound of bird ….crying in the night …and my left ear gets sharpen to that sound. ….
People here say some has sharp ears to hear the death cries of these devil bird….during last 6 months tragedy had hit this area …there were lot of deaths. Cancer patients ,bed ridden old people, an old women murdered …and the devil bird was busy crying….it also cried near my window ….,I never bothered it as I felt  I was educated working mother of a 2 year old boy and never even had time to think why this bird is crying every night …although both my son and myself were sacred of it…and we were busy throughout the day doing our daily chores and looking after his grandfather who was not taking food due to stomach cancer and was bed ridden since one month…….he passed away before i could infer anything ….last night also I heard the cry when I was washing my hands after supper…down from there ……where there is stagnant water of ‘Paramadda’ where stone queries are there….where our forefathers were buried ……we were getting lot of phone calls the next day from friends and relatives ……One of the tallest elephants of Kerala had killed three woman including my sons uncle’s friend’s aunt…………
I had stopped writing long back as a protest to the happening in my life…never wanted anything thing strange to happen …that leaves me thinking …..That forces me to write…but I had resolved many problems and fought with my emotions by letting it fall on my paper as tears….through my pen….when I underwent a dnc for missed abortion …..I was shattered and felt like abandoned as a orphaned child …pain was unbearable ….i had to see like lot of woman had…. the red thick blood with foetus …..  and had to write down from my office shattered about those violet flowers that blossomed near the old chilled graveyard that I used see every day to office near Indira nagar…. the chill of Bangalore took me to darkness …felt like I would never see sunshine again ……it was always cloudy there…… close friends cried when they read it and didn’t reply to my mail………
Nature  gave back  everything when we returned to was raining here !We too were unfolding all our happiness in the coming month….I had started to give back everything, even the tiniest sweat drawn from us...In the evening cranes return through the dark clouds across the silver lighting and thunder...I was at my home then….a little bird was finding every day new shelter beneath the thick small green leaf of bougainvillea that was shining in the yellow light of dusk just before the rains…..Thunders  far in the dark sky and small rumblings inside stomach echoed the joy of coming motherhood .For the freshness of a new born …we are waiting for a new season full of rain and happiness …the protest can be only short as we understand scorching sun broke down in tears drenching  everything in its way, falling through the dark long leaves  of old mango tree that had forgotten to flower this year …but tiny bulbs of ‘kanni manga’ had emerged out near us …..colorful blue and yellow  train engines  that are passing by  are looking now more beautiful than before on those old dark rails ...the guava tree that was small earlier now  looks grown  when kids are climbing on it  during this vacation… my stomach too looks better now as the rain started…at night the tiny leaves of ‘pichee poove’ are looking  more homely in the new street light ….. All the birds’ sounds and fighting’s have ended as rain poured down …as we were keeping inside a  little treasure for that new season ,a new happiness was forever unfolding…. I was enthralled when his tiny legs and hand moved inside me….the feeling is inexpressible ………
I decided to quit my job as …had to support a family with ailing cancer patient and to look after my tiny son…..i was compelled by some forces that drives me always…. because I was a human..i had to tell my manger … that "we belong to human race and the human race is filled with passion ...its not about achieving ambitions , it’s not all about fighting for your needs whole day and at the end of the day feel sad’s more about getting up in the morning with a sweat smile like my son does. Degrees Medicine, engineering are oversuits for sustaining life but……..”-I quit my job
 Poetry, beauty, love, kindness these may be we are alive for..I would have been dead by this time in this dead poets society if i could not medication would have brought held breath back to life… this existance, to this identity ..If i was not able to write down from my heart........some go beyond there extend to conquer the world.. some fight with all their health to be there....some roar to get their names written...some leave everything to take the lonely path ...some get married ....some get out of their marriages ....... in search of this secret not written nor read by any one ......

Monday, August 27, 2007

Like green moss in bladder

In this season of chingam...season of orange and yellow flowers from market in transparent light green plastic kits …I somehow managed to keep heart just in right pace. .around 90/120…now slowly started liking the graphs of correlation, standard deviation and regression … b’coz they have begun interpreting many things in life that I thought was not scalable…. classes of maths proved to be helpful…there was the smell of slightly decayed flowers due to rain all in took me to the remembrance of last spell of karkedakam…a time of rain and curative medicine …

desire to be a doctor...Always wanting to do something in hospital—a very strong desire...We used to watch critical medical cases in BBC, Medical detectives in Discovery and discuss about it, In library used to gaze at pictures of dead-bodies and scenes of murder victims and she used to explain to me very passionately about skulls and big thick medical books of her sister who was a doctor…..

ALL these incidents was now like a illustration of something that I read in one of the books that influenced me a lot….it became now digestible for the neurons in my brain…a book that was read in absolute state of ‘No-Desire’..It quotes ‘man-desire=god’…strange indeed to realize on how your desires influence life…. I was explaining an account from this in my room “There was a snake in a village which was a great menace to the villagers …a sage passed its way and asked the snake to love every one….next time the sage saw the snake almost dead….the wise man replied-‘I only asked you to love people .not to express it..’” …I could see changes of expression in everyone’s face…because all were effected by it…...

Last month rain was poring down from sky like the leaking roof in our old quarters, and now every thing was back to square one … Minute thing of life brought in the biggest fears like Pareto principle of 80-20 rule…

As Onam arrived….. again floral patterns of desire started growing at high correlation with the time span of x-axis……ways of living in this remotes part of universe away from peppy, sexy bollywood movies ..Away from original classical melody of Chennai… with new songs from innermost chamber of heart just at right pace of 80/120….just in right season of life…

Friday, July 20, 2007

Making chutney in different ways …..

After a tiresome journey in train. I wanted to allow my body to rest….it had just recovered from an existence hurt ….but just couldn’t wait to grab the new India today’s women’s edition...The editor acclaims it as an exclusive urban working woman magazine …. yummy mummy of India…….

Giving lot of statistical data…women performing the ‘balancing act’ between their personal life and professional life... going out for 12-15 days business tour, golphing, leisure, broken relationships, adjusting family system in our country...sacrifices… high determination and lot more ..But life has taken such a new twirl that it makes me think … why?? my thoughts started taking different course …there was some time when I used to dream like any other career being …to be in a business magazine ….to be spotted in the list of fortune makers……but now these articles make less of sense …coz the search continues for a surreal moment …a moment when a farmer’s wife is able to save him from suicide …when a boy in the neighborhood is not made to say ‘I pour the water form bottle over the floor b’coz I felt alone……’ a more fortified splits of seconds for a mother when she leave her sick child in a strangers crush…a more powerful instance of time replacing competition with coexistence far away from this rat-race …the hopes for such an incredible moment increased as the fingers which had by now became mechanized hitting the keypads turned pages …something like in the movie in tv that came in pogo strong father, elastic mother, high speed son and invisible daughter…’the incredible’….

In between these untold rustles of mind...Came the call for lunch…hot homemade biriyani...What else could be more satisfying now than this meal from a mother of four …… stomach shaking with all the biriyani stuffed in it in the good old dusty green it turned around ashok pillar …the memories took me some 6 years back when I came here with social studies maam for science congress……it traveled again some 4 years back to smell the fresh and green air of IIT, the boys hostel with out curtains where we stayed …and the India today special edition on 50 yrs of independence in my bag from which mainly the speech for competition was prepared ….now latest edition with 60 years was in my kit. Coincidence …..When we conducted Vishnu sahsranamam …..Never thought ill be here again for 500th recital on 07/07/07 …when taj mahal was selected 7 wonders of world again …it all looked as play of numbers...Play of figures ….play of different way of life….different ways of making chutney……

Sometimes it was the most complicated process in our room –making chutney…the taste/interest varied from colour, amount of water, whether to add mustard or coriander leaves , curry leaves, amount of ginger, if to put small onions raw or fried before putting it in mixi….tamrind ? Or not….red chilies or green chilies ...time when ingredients need to put... that too played a role in the taste…. Smooth or raw paste of coconut ….after the whole discussion and getting consensus, hot ghee dosas where ready and none could wait to start eating it with the chutney …which was a chutney of lot of ideas and opinions…emmmmm…it tasted well emmmm…and our stomach was full at the end…every one adjusted to a point we could….after a limit opinions simply nullified and it became consideration.. …there were moments when we where in tears and we consoled each other ….sometime couldn’t support a person even if had an idea of the happening...Sometimes nothing was told and everything understood…sometimes everything told but nobody understood anything….but in midst of the never fulfilling rat race the plastic world that IT had created for us...we kept making good chutney every time for breakfast…. i traveled back with that beautiful taste, smell and music ….

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Y am here...?

To feel and experience infinity within this finite body
To live timelessness within this time span of life
To uncover bliss in misery……..



Originally uploaded by napoji

Many times in our society they are so much conditioned that rest of their lives they vastly prefer not be heard. Little wonder they find themselves tongue tied and hog-tied…without any loud stubbornness ….they exist with subtle persistence….

2007.. Courtesy :napoji's photos

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

kamoshi ke shore..

frozen tree
Originally uploaded by

काले बादल है घंगोर

चा रहा है सनाठा चारों और न है दिल पर कोई जोर

पर जंच रहा है कानो में एक शोर

क्या यहें है कमोशी की शोर ???

शितिज तो यह रहा पर मंजिल यह नहीं

जीवन के इस अद्बुत ताल में उलाज न जाऊँ हर हाल में ..

सोच रही दिल ही दिल में बुला दू सारे घाम इसी पल में

दुभ जाना है कमोशी की सागर में एहसास की एस अनोके चादर में

लेकिन बढ़ रहा यह समय के साथ

न ले रही रुकने की बात

पर जब केसी ने थमा यह हाथ थम गेई कमोशी की रात

मिला जो साथ का वादा

न सोच सकी में ज्यादा गा उटी जोर से मुक्त हूँ कमोशी की एस शोर से


blue waves with white foams-lamhon ke lehar...

एक ऐसा लाम्हा

जो कर दिया मुझे तनहा

पुरे हो सारे अरमान जैसा खुला यह आसमान

ऐसा ना कभी हवा की देखा सूरज में धुवा

चाव से बी उज्वाल सुन्दर यह तेरा दावल

एस बार था वह नरम

जो कर दिया ह्रदय में मर्म

अकन्शओहं की एस चवें में

बह ना जाऊं कभी में

ले रहे थी धीमहि सान्स्हें

पर जब बीघ गए होंट प्यासे

नयनों की एख पलक में

दिख गेई ज़िन्दगी एक जालक में

चंचल नाधीयो से बरा मान है तेरा गहरा

काँटों से भुना अगार कथन निर्मल उसका ना सुना

पल के महक में सोती जैसे तुम्हारे सीप की मोती

सागर के निर्बय लहर में जुज़र ना जाये ज़िन्दगी एस पहर में

धरा के लिए बरसते सारे

घर्ज रहें थे बदल प्यारी

जब बादल बन गए अश्रु तेरे

बूंद बूंद गिन रहे नाम तेरे

है जीवन के रखावले कर रहे यह लाम्हा तेरे हवाले