Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Flashes and fathoms-1


Urban life has been sulking Madhurima Nambeesan for a long time, she missed her friends in her village in Kannur. Things were simple and people straight forward yet too many murders and bombs made her life miserable in Koothuparamba which finally forced her to shift to Kochi. Though it bears the inadvertent title of  being "The Queen of Arabian Sea" all that Madhu felt was a titular expression . Ah yes, she missed her village just like anyone who came to a city for the first time. She had trouble in communicating, it was impossible to understand what she said, basically because Kochiates are not much used with the Kannada influenced malayalam from Malabar. However Madhu survived, but what she missed was some smiling and friendly faces.

Kochi- Thevara

It was with great expectations did she gave life to her dream- "Paint me Blue". It was her ardent dream to become a social entrepreneur, Radhamani loved social service to any other career. Her friend always saw an emerging leader in her, and why not, she was industrious, intelligent and above all committed. There was an exceptional charisma about this lady, making her chutzpah the dominance at any gathering. But she was a simpleton who believed in the subtle joys for perennial happiness. She traveled a lot and it was common for her to meet and greet people. But her excellence in understanding human pain was her emphasizing and predominant character. Her work sufficed to the orphanages and old age homes in and around Kochi. But it was an ongoing work that filled her up. She thought "Arts and Craft" to the kids at orphanages  and made it a point to spread all the love she had to her little darlings. Her consistent visit to the old age homes with the hope of spreading all the happiness she has was received quite well by the grannies and grandpas. She gave them time, which was fortunately what they really wanted other than the occasional visit of a group of students presenting gifts or visiting them just for the sake of some "flashes". She never really brought anything for them other than an occasional set of books or fruits-which she grew in her garden. It made 'she' the 'object' that they eagerly waited for rather than  the gifts. Radha was living her life to the fullest, experiencing the joy in living the life the way she liked by helping in shaping others life. But then suddenly she was 'hit'- and that was when she met-
Madhurima Nambeesan

Kochi-Varkeys Super Bazar

John Mathappan was the only son of Peter  Arackkal Mathappan, a powerful name amongst the goondas in Fatehpur Sikri. He was shot in a gang war and succumbed later to the injuries. John was looked after by his mother who fled the place and settled in Kochi. She tried sending John to a nearby school, but had little success. Little John never spoke much to anyone, and when he did there was a rain of verbal abuse in Hindi. Mary Mathappan made it a point to send little John to the nearby church, especially on Sundays. Just like every other mother in the world, she feared her son would ruin his future. Slowly but gradually Mary saw visible changes in John. He stopped swearing and using abusive language and his interest shifted into painting. Mary decided to remarry a distant relative of hers due to insistence of her relatives. Little Johny was happy to be a Big Brother to the two kids who were born in time. But trouble crept in the small house of Mary after her third child was born, it was impossible to control Dominic as he felt John as an outsider. He beat the child constantly for absolutely no reason, all his mother could do was to beg and weep to spare her child. Finally John left home at 15 and never came back. He started earning money by accompanying  Painter Mani to his sites. He had money but not enough to survive. He was waiting for an interview as a sales boy at Varkeys when he saw this girl approaching him. She had the most beautiful smile in the world and suddenly the world seems to shrink down. He felt lighter, warmer and special. There was no way that he could take his eyes off this beautiful goddess send from heaven. As he looked she came closer to him and said something, John could see only her beautiful red lips forming shapes so good, her deep brown eyes with thick lashes fluttering, her hair moving rhythmically to the blow of the wind. He heard nothing but-'Madhurima Nambeesan'

to be continued.....

Tuesday, September 11, 2012


   I've been an ardent dictionary user for quite sometime, in fact dictionary is one of the books that i have always been carrying around . "The Oxford English Dictionary" has always been my favorite, the simple reason being that it was my first dictionary. It has been occupying that little corner of my hand bag for a long time. To some Dictionary is a necessity, i emphasize the  book worms here, the ones  who have nothing better than sinking into the pages of  imagination thankfully they are  harmless. Meanwhile for some it is a call of "Prestige", it was a trend during my college days(persistently existing) to carry around a Dictionary (or any book for that matter) longer and even bulkier than its owner only to cover the bosom, or rather for its better view. In either way this is the lot which I'm sure has taken up no pains to turn the pages of the "subject" . Then there is this lot who think it to be sophisticated, prestigious and above the normal degree to carry around of all the books , but Dictionary. They are the most intriguing of people you find, not only are they  proficiently efficient in using the book, but they count on it for each and every other word which could otherwise have been made simple.

My first poem was an accident, but as time flew the innocence left, but never in the work. Slowly and gradually Dictionary became a close friend of mine.  My sole intention was to make my work sound sophisticated and exceptional and this I did by the use of  the most trying words instead of the simple ones. This became my trend altogether for a long time. But things started changing when "ITS MY CAULDRON" happened.I was inspired to start it after a collision with one of the popular blogs. Her blog was an overnight success, there was nothing special about the blog other than the occasional sexually arousing anecdotes of the blogger. But the reason for its success was that, it was told right from the heart and the language used was simple, urbane and awesome. There was a beautiful mixture of the right words at the right time, without a fuss on the persistent use of my old friend 'Mr Dictionary'. The narrative glued us to the seats and gave a better picture of the events that happened to the blogger and to what she felt. 

Recently there was yet another "head on collision" with a friend of mine, after the usual exchange of greetings the guy simply send me his blog link insisting that he was the "Father of English Language". It was with great expectations did i open up the link only to find it to be deeply disappointing. It was impossible to read even a single line of his creation without strenuous use of Mr D. This effort shrunk the whole idea which was expressed with great anticipation. I'm sure there was surely some cream, which unfortunately was waiting for a good churn in the form of a complete revamp.

I wish this friend of mine understand that it is always a simple presentation that actually gives the right punch to the right people. Eventually the idea of all the writers including "bloggers" is either to convey some message or share an experience. In both situations it is absolutely necessary that the reader understands the matter conveyed, and only when this happens the process of communication is complete. It is not the exhibition of advertant  and complicated use of words that brings out the best writer in you, but it is the sublimity, observation, humor ,originality and simplicity that dominates. I love Dictionary but id rather not  dement my brain . For in the end of the day my neck and the pain there, will always be my own...