Being born and brought up there, I always
have a long tongue to talk about Kerala. The land that rose form the ocean
waters when Lord Parasuram threw an axe never fails to mesmerize me.
Kerala is a piece of exquisite greenery. The
Eden of the south. The official abode of the best-in-class tea gardens. The
land where beauty and mystery go hand in hand. Where mahouts and elephants take
morning walks and casual baths in the green waters of the temple ponds. There
is an air of oddity in the daily life of Kerala which will both surprise and
excite a first time visitor.
Rains are always uninvited guests here. One
can never predict when the skies will rumble and hurl down a consignment of
rain and thunder. The sky might look bright and sunny for most part of the day.
But hidden behind the bright skies are looming rain clouds, like sorcery behind
beauty, devising to upset all plans for a perfect holiday. Nevertheless, for
someone from a tropical climate where constant sweating and swearing of soaring
temperatures is the norm, Kerala is a refreshing delight.
A paradise of sorts for a weekend getaway,
until some political party declares a strike on the day you set foot on
Kerala's soil. Like its rains Kerala's political climate is also unpredictable,
sometimes even more unbelievable.
Kerala's women are ravishingly beautiful.
Pitch black hair that fall upto knees, fish-like eyes and an anatomy that will
even put some Greek goddesses to shame. Oh! And when they dance Mohaniattam,
Bharatanatyam or other classical dance, it’s like Lord Indra's heavenly damsels
setting their foot on earth.
Beauty runs in the veins of Kerala, in the
form its beautiful women and the backwaters. But the real beauty of Kerala is
in its green nature. The palm fringed coasts and green forest reserves add to the natural
magnificence of God's Own Country.
To be continued..
Quite often I have
been asked why I write. Sometimes in a tone that means aversion to my long
paragraphs (like this one). Different people have different reasons for
writing. Some write for the sake for writing. They write bills, invoices,
official letters, and sometimes even resignation letters. Others, the real
writers, write for the love and passion for writing. They don’t write romantic
love letters, but letters with love, for themselves and for the art of writing.
And I am proud to share such passion although it is not right to call myself a
writer of the truest form.
As for me writing is
the simplest form of self-pleasure. I just put into words those thoughts that
flood my mind during most parts of the day. It is so amazing to imagine how a
language with just twenty six alphabets can be used in multiple combinations and
permutations to create meaningful words. And these words when used together in
a sentence, like beads of a necklace create beautiful stories and phrases.
Stories that entertain, amuse, enlighten and sometimes even inspire us to adopt
a better way of living.
As for me, I write
about anything that comes to my mind. Being a nature lover my thoughts are
usually rhyme like why the sky is blue, why the rainbow has a hue, why water is
formless and colorless and such thoughts that normal people resign as useless
and childish. Otherwise I get into a war of words that demolish and destruct
the goodwill of political parties. I love nailing the wretched political
barbarians of this otherwise divine country with my words. That little
defamation is all that I can do as a powerless citizen.
I am at a loss of
words when it comes to examinations. The black and white print of a question
paper dries the ink in my pen and halts the activity of my brain. Maybe an exam
hall is the only place where my passion for writing does a nosedive. My creativity
is no match for the mammoth expectations of my examiners. I pray for their good
health, because I have cursed them long enough for making me write tiring exams
year after year.
End of March.
Beginning of April. Say Hello to Summer.
Cold welcome with
bottles of iced water to an annual guest. Only that it is more scorching than
hot and without any lustful features. Oh! Summer is here! To roast me in the
afternoon heat. To make me walk around with bottles full of water. Inside my
house it feels like sitting on a furnace. Outside it feels like hot oil being
poured all over me. Sweat stains all over me drenching three dresses a day. The
AC works but with a loud noise that disturbs my work. I won’t dare to switch it
off. Let my work suffer, but I don’t want to sweat anymore like I do when
summer comes. Down the street, around the corner, under the shade of a tree
there is a man who has been selling pani puri since ages. A week before I saw
him start a new business of selling sugar cane juice. Yesterday I saw him
zooming away in a brand new bike. He certainly must be in love with summer, but
definitely not me. In a month he might buy a car and half of its cost would
have gone from my pocket.
Hey Summer,
Tormentor of humid regions, Army in
Chief of the Mighty Sun, please show some mercy on me and my torn wallet. My
dear Kerala! How I miss you! My beautiful mistress with armies of coconut trees
and vast pools of dirty green water. If only they were neat I would have
happily had a swim with a rubber tube around my belly! And now that you are
also becoming hotter day by day I will get used to living a life tied to
bottles of ice cold water.
Forgive & Forget
I've learnt a small
lesson.
One that made my
life a lot better,
One that made my
life a lot easier and happier.
The lesson to
forgive & forget.
Stings of betrayal
poked into my heart
Leaving
a sour taste of hurt and despair.
Which
if I had chose to ignore,
Would
have been gone without a trace.
It
is when I let them surface,
Do
I give them power to hurt and bleed my insides.
As
time passes, they grow big and kill my happiness.
Finally,
I've learnt it’s better to Forgive and Forget.
I
must forgive and forget,
Not
because I am weak for revenge.
But,
I deserve peace and love.
Most
importantly I deserve to be Happy!
Thank You Madiba.
Thank You for not
giving up when you were caged inside a box jail,
Thank You for not
letting the prison bars crush your big dreams of abolishing apartheid,
Thank You for not
letting down the Whites after the abolishing apartheid.
Thank You for
avoiding a third world war!
I am Sorry your eye
sight was permanently damaged the hard glare of the lime quarry at Robben
Island,
But Thank You for
still finding strength to raise your voice against racial discrimination,
I am Sorry that your
personal life suffered while fighting for the development of Africa.
But Thank You for
inspiring and motivating millions like me!
Thank You bringing
back Africa from killing itself with violence.
Thank You for making
us understand that color of the skin and ethnicity are meaningless.
Thank You for being
a true Gandhian unlike many of our politicians who claim to be.
Thank You for
fighting to give us a world full of equal opportunities.
Thank You for
upholding compassion even when your countrymen opposed,
Thank You for giving
the world all that you were denied of,
Most of us know who
You are,
For those of them
who don't;
Let them hear more
about your unconquerable soul.
Let them hear that
you were the savior of suppressed souls.
Beyond this world of
blood and cries,
May your voice for
peace and equality resonate around
Thank You again from
a young Indian who have seen you in pictures, videos, have read your book and
felt inspired to do something for this world sooner or later.
Rest.In.Peace.
Since some time I
have been seeing posts in the social networking circle that seem to mock at
aspiring photographers . The pain and passion behind this art form is not known
to many including people who create such posts. I am NOT a photographer because
I know to call yourself one, your pictures should speak more than your words.
And my pictures are pretty dumb when compared to the many works of our
photographer friends.
This is a tribute to
them. A tribute to all my photographer friends who have made me look better in
pictures than in person. Thank You!
Pictures speak
thousand words in a silent language. Some entertain us. Some make us wonder.
Some make us smile. Some inspire us. Some even touch our hearts. But
nevertheless they have some impact on us.
Love them or hate
them, you just can't ignore them.
Like pieces of time
frozen on a sheet of paper they take us into the future where we'll look back
and ask "Is that me? Oh my, I've changed a lot!" That is exactly the
reason why many of us love photographs than real people, because people may change
for various reasons, but despite the change of seasons and assault of time, a
photograph remains as it is.
Unchanged in
emotion.
Unchanged in
appearance.
Unchanged in its
perspective.
The splash of a
water drop, the smile of a child, the greenery of nature, the growl of a tiger,
the grandeur of a monument, the shade of a moonlight sky, the rays of the
morning sun, the anger of a protester, the fury of wildlife, the pose of a
dancer, the strength of a wrestler, the pace of a sprinter, the normalcy of
daily life. All this and more, the lens of a photographer never misses to shoot
the life that surrounds us which others often miss to notice in a hurry to earn
money.
A salute to all
photographers for framing the world in beautiful pictures.
May your cameras
keep clicking.
May your photographs
present life in a better way.
May there be more
photographers.
The
daily commute in Chennai's MRTS is sort of an adventure. Apart from winning the
beeline queue for tickets that crawls forward in snail pace stretching far and
beyond the station entrance gates, getting inside and securing a seat is close
to conquering the Everest on a daily basis. And once seated, the vivid scenes
that are enacted inside by its many passengers are both entertaining as well as
amusing.
Coming
from an accountancy background, where classification is a daily job, the writer
can't help but classify the various co-passengers he meets during his train
ride. Read on, you must know these characters!
1.
The music maniac:
Typically aged somewhere in the 20s. Some rare extreme cases of IT employed
middle aged people can also be found. Gadget freak grandpas and music fanatic
uncles are also on the rise. Has a backpack hanging from one shoulder, usually
uncombed hair if not an office goer, wears branded shoes if not counterfeit and
has an earphone tucked deep into his ear lobes (the most prominent feature).
This character usually has a lost expression on his face and some advanced
cases may display acts of shaking heads and ticking fingers. Harmless, since they are oblivion to the
incidents and to the people surrounding them in a train ride. Often even
forgets to get down at their destination.
2.
The retired employee: Typical
characters to be seen travelling during 7 to 9, when the train is less crowded
and has more air to breathe although no seats to sit. Gets into the train with
a cup of coffee bought from a station vendor, has a Hindu newspaper (99%) or
some other Tamil paper tucked in armpits. Wears a gold spectacle matched with
tilaks on foreheads and stares like they have come from the past in a time
machine. Once seated, they spread out the newspaper like it’s their child's
wedding invitation and keeps studying forever until reaching destination. Some
are even known to clock time taken by the train to pass between two stations.
3.
Romantic couples: The
writer thanks from the bottom of his heart to these co-passengers, who have
been his only source of entertainment as well as frustration combined with
irritation, since the day he has started travelling in Chennai's metro
trains. Mostly college goers although
school goers in uniforms are also widely seen nowadays (much to the
disappointment of the writer's uneventful school days!). Modern day Romeo
Juliet they are who exchange mobile numbers instead of roses. Fortunate
co-passengers can see some less intimate cuddling where the guy tries to
protect his girl from being touched by other passengers even when the train is
empty. Usually have each other holding their hands although coming together of
the lips cannot be ruled out completely. Their journey has no destination as
such, except for the motive of getting an empty compartment.
4.
The detective aunty: A
married, plump, and employed otherwise a home maker with fixed destinations to
Thiruvallikeni or Mylapore for visiting temples if not West Mambalam for T
Nagar shopping. Has a curious eye that
passes judgmental looks which does not spare even the romantic couples. Sometimes
shows irritations with romantic couples and women with short dresses and blames
their parents for the cultural downfall. Also known to utter words of pride of
her cultured daughter(s) who, to her ignorance could possibly be the female
character of the romantic couple in another train on the opposite direction.
5.
The born pervert: Bears a
constant drooling expression, which touches heights when a woman enters the
compartment. Seen with symptoms of craning necks and unnecessary shuffling to
get a better look of his find. Does
not mind stepping onto his fellow passengers to get close to a lady. This type
can be found in all age categories of men which is due to the hormone
imbalances in few but not all. Extreme cases are known to take pictures
of the ladies with mobile cameras before getting beaten up by co-passengers.
Destination - The journey is the destination!
6.
The scrambler: Usually
healthy in appearance but always in a hurry to find a seat. Known to place bags
and other uncommon things to reserve seats. Commonly seen in both genders. -
Finally a case of gender equality to be recorded in history! Known to ask
seated passengers to adjust to have some extra space for seating. Relenting
people will be forced upon with hefty bodies - better to bend than to be broken
by these characters.
7.
The
pensive onlooker: Handsome, educated, well built, with
almost close to Brad Pitt looks who due to unfortunate twists of fate is
travelling on trains and buses. Usually busy with useless thoughts about
purpose of life, status of Indian economy, the prime ministerial election among
other important thoughts of a near empty wallet, unemployment, increasing rates
of mobile charges and bored single life. Sigh! That’s me.
All
attempts has been made by the writer not to insult anybody and to do justice to
all characters. There are even more characters who can be described which I might have missed to notice. Feel free to write in! :)

