My Version of Thrissur Pooram...

Thrissur Pooram is today, rightfully, called 'the Pooram of all Poorams'. Thrissur Pooram is a culture highlight that towers above all other festivals. It is a festival unique in its pageantry, magnitude and participation. Thrissur Pooram is celebrated every year, on the Pooram day, in the month of Medam (mid-April to mid-May) as per the Malayalam calendar. While all Pooram have a huge influence on surrounding neighborhoods and towns, few other festivals require their active involvement. Thrissur town plays host, for 36 hours from the wee hours of the Pooram day, to one of the prevalent compilation of people and elephants.

It was orchestrated by the then ruler of Cochin, Raja Rama Varma, better known as "Shakthan Thampuran", in 1798. The richly ornamented elephants, as seen during the Thrissur Pooram, are now globally recognized. On the Pooram day, nearly hundred elephants will pass through the very center of Thrissur town, or the Vadakkumnathan temple. The key skin of the Pooram fiesta are these festooned elephants with their Nettipattam (decorative headdress), stunning crafted the Kolam, enhancing glockenspiel and ornaments etc. Add to this the Panchavadyam, the rhythmic percussion of the drum, and what would be a cacophony otherwise is turned into an organized but spontaneous sonata. The fireworks will be put on show in the early hours of the next day, will rival shows held anywhere in the world, without even using many of the modern and newer pyrotechnics.

All these keeps the minds of the kids and elders racing at a uniform pace with each bang on the drums. We can see Pooram becoming a common feel over there. And we can feel Pooram taking the elf out of us.



Today 24th April, was the day. Today was Thrissur Pooram. Before making any further move on this post, I would like to express gratitude to my cousins, my right and left hands, Vivu and Navi and the technology that bridged us to make it possible for me to hear the Melam from the office room here in Jakarta.

The festival which has always been a matter of bombshell for me. I haven’t heard of any other festival which has gained so much of esteem irrespective of age, gender, caste, religion and even nationality. People simply enjoy the divine ambiance that Pooram creates. For the natives of Thrissur, each event of Pooram is so emotional…each event. Like the Madathil Varavu, procession in front of Paramekkavu Temple, Elanjithara Melam, Kudamaattam, the eight Cheru-Poorams and the heaven-shaking “Vedikkett” (Fire Works).

Even though the tides participating in the ocean called “Thrissur Pooram” takes its origin several miles away and around the Thrissur town, tides from all over hit the center-point of Thrissur – Vadakkumnathan temple at the same time, which then becomes the epicenter for the entire mind-quaking 36 hours. Really fascinating is the coordination and the choreography of the entire event. Thrissur Pooram has a prosperous history of more than two centuries. The timing, splitting, grouping and assembling of the eight Cheru-Poorams (small parts of Pooram from eight different regions) to form two big Poorams between the two temples, Paramekkavu and Thiruvambady, and then to stand head to head for the color showering “Kudamaattam” is inexplicable. This is why the Pooram of my Thrissur is called the “Festival of all Festivals”. The tradition and the agenda of Pooram remains intact even after two hundred and eleven years. But the festivity keeps escalating every passing year.

The city experiences a jubilant mood since the opening of the Pooram Exhibition, the tempo starts with the flag hosting. This tempo then will be geared up by the sample fireworks displayed in the Vadakkumnathan maidan on the day before the Pooram eve.. This is the curtain raiser to the real display of pyrotechnics of the Pooram. Started as a sample testing of the fire works for alternation/ modification, it has turned to an event attracting very huge crowd.

The “Chamayakazcha” (Viewing the display of decorations &ornaments) is another amazing experience of Pooram which is opened for 36 (last two nights and day).

Proudly I must say…, our family also has a role in Thrissur Pooram. Seven days before the Thrissur Pooram, there is a traditional flag hoisting ceremony in the eight temples which bring the Cheru-Poorams to the two sides, Paramekkavu and Thiruvambady. The Thrissur Pooram flag hoisting ceremony will be first conducted at the two major temples, Paramekkavu and Thiruvambady. This is a traditional way for declaring the arrival of Thrissur Pooram. And only eight families of each region have been granted the rights to hoist the flag by Shakthan Thampuran. It is our family who has the right to hoist the flag in the Choorakkattukara Bhagavathy Temple. For almost the past eight – ten years I also used to be a part of it along with my uncles as eldest of the budding generation of Appat (my mother’s family name). So staying away for all these days from all these events is not an easy task for me.

To enjoy Pooram, one needs to dilute and be a part of it. Even the sun, the heat and the sweat is a part of this heavenly episode. Even the lime juice and the butter milk provided in the road sides of Thrissur Round have the taste and elf of Pooram in it. Even the tiredness and the wandering on that day have a gratification.

And that which lays the composition for the entire event is the Pandi Melam and Panchavadyam. Melam is a classical percussion concert or Melam (ensemble) led by the ethnic Kerala instrument called the Chenda and accompanied by Ilathalam (cymbals), Kuzhal and Kombu. The most celebrated Pandi Melam is staged inside a temple compound at the Vadakkumnathan shrine's precincts in Thrissur. For the last several years, Peruvanam Kuttan Marar is the lead conductor for this symphony of drums known as Elanjithara Melam.

Panchavadyam, literally meaning an orchestra of five instruments, is basically a temple art form has evolved in Kerala. Of the five instruments, four -- Timila, Maddalam, Ilathalam and Idakka -- belong to the percussion category, while the fifth one, Kombu, is a wind instrument. However, in contrast to a Chenda Melam, Panchavadyam uses different instruments though Ilathalam and Kompu are common to both. Panchavadyam which is conducted for Thrissur Pooram will have artistes totaling around 60.

Like any other forms of orchestra, the Chenda Melam and Panchavadyam have no rehearsals or so on. And a true art requires no rehearsals to perform. It just needs to happen. The whole crowd...the entire Thrissur will be seen encouraging the artists by raising their hands in accordance to the pitch of Melam. As the pitch increases, it becomes a magical experience of sound. This is a monopoly of Thrissur Pooram. It is a true divine contribution to the World of Art.

At home too its high voltage celebration on this day with all our relatives. We go out for the Pooram in groups. Each of them has their own beloved event in Pooram. But we, the second generation have no special event. We have Pooram as one whole event. In between those events we have a peep into the C M S School where the Elephants participating on the Thiruvambady side and also the Paramekkavu Temple’s Agrashala area where the Elephants participating on the Paramekkavu side will be preparing for their turn to rock the show. Elephants have always been a craze for me right from the time I started to talk. And it’s the same for all the people of Thrissur too. I remember the renowned poet and writer Madambu Kunjukuttan saying “People of Thrissur have elephant’s black in their blood more than the crimson of hemoglobin.”

I am missing it all… But when I close my eyes I can see those vivid colors, I can hear Thrissur roaring deafening the whole world, I can feel the enthrallment, I feel the turbulence, fierceness and the beauty of Vedikkett. I can sense everything in heartbeats clarity and I can feel the spirit emitted from percussions racing wildly with the blood cells in my veins. No distance can defeat that. I am only the size of an atom’s fraction in this event. If this is the height of my spirit, I wonder how high could be the spirit of Vadakkumnathan...

Nothing is permanent. The tuskers, the artists, the people…keeps changing…everything and everyone will have to move as time rolls. But like for the past two hundred and eleven years Vadakkumnathan will remain the same…he will be there without being a part of anything but yet to witness Pooram until time stops galloping. I envy him…just for this single reason….

Pooram is not something which is or which can be suddenly made. It is a culture. It is a divine festival which once experienced becomes a feeling and remains in the core of your heart. A feeling which becomes the heartbeat for every Thrissurkaaran which has been flown through several generations to reach us. And our mission must be to brighten its color and to pass it on to the next generation.

A billion thanks to His Highness King Shakthan for gifting an event so heavy in all facets it possesses for his subjects yet to be born…. I feel proud when I take in a breath on the land of Vadakkumnathan which was ruled by King Shakthan.

A million Greetings and Salutes to my King…


“Rajaadhi Rajan, Thrishivaperoor desam vaazhum Raja Rama Varman Shakthan Thampuran…Neenaal vaazhattee….!!! …Neenaal vaazhattee….!!! …Neenaal vaazhattee…!!!”

Me @ 25.0 ....

Amma & Me...from a retrospective angle....

Today is a special day. Today is my 25th anniversary of being born to a Mother and Father so great. Today I accomplished 25 years of “not-so-meaningless” living on earth. And the first day of its kind away from Amma and unaccompanied too…childish right..?? I know it’s not all that apt for a 25 year old, “almost-a-MAN” to be so juvenile. But after three months and twelve days of being away from home, today I feel home-sick…today I feel lonely…

In the mid-night itself, soon after Amma wished me, Manu bhai, Pazhavoor and Abhilash came and banged at my door with a candle lighted on a family pack of ice cream (that was all what they could get in a last minute rush) to wish me Happy Birthday by singing the birthday song. As I was in their room even an hour before, they had to limit the cake to a family pack of ice cream. That was what they could make up in that one hour of the youngest part of night. But, for me the surprise element was at its peak. I never expected this. Thanks a lot to them.

I shall never forget this. Yet another day of birth. But this time there are lots of new faces, of which some became the best among my very best friends, to wish me, via mails, scraps, sms and so on. The number of rivers that have flown and some which are still on the way into my ocean of friendship have been consistently increasing for the past two-three years. Colors are becoming brighter these days. Hmm.., I’m growing. The wind and the tide is slowly joining me to flow together, promising me a good expedition. Happy to feel it.

I wanted to start my day by sending a mail to Amma, thanking Vadakkumnathan. I was planning to do this before she calls to wish me in the morning. But as always, Amma makes the first score. I was wished by her towards the end of yesterdays voice chat when the clock ticked mid-night. And today she is alone. Distance is sometimes a curse. I feel this as my failure sometimes. There are some special days on which I would like to be with her…or rather I would not like her to be alone on such days.

All I am, or can be, I owe to my Angel Mother. It is her prayer that makes us lives to tell the tale and thrive in our lives. Every breath she takes in clutches only the prayer for us. My safety is the result of her wait for me. I have felt that in every kiss that she gives me whenever I leave home. That is the crust that protects me.

She is the most cheerful, optimistic and courageous lady I have ever seen. Someone who can take any important decision in no time whether the circumstance turns earth into a hell or a heaven. She’s someone who proved several times to stand steady, stern and with stout even when all arrows and cannon balls of fate was aimed and fired against her. Someone who energizes and motivates anyone by her words, attitude and character. …--- that’s who my Amma is…

I don’t know how fine I’m as a son. For, to be a perfect son to her, whose wholesomeness of mind, thoughts and deeds stands so celestial, I think...I need to hold the grandeur of at least a God. The imagination of all the poets I met evaporated, the ink in all the pens I took dried, the words in all the books I referred vanished, and the mouths of all the Gods were shut...when I pleaded before them to find words that could match the mind-set of love and affection that I have to Amma. How all can I utter it…? I don’t know. Amma...is a word that means the world to me.

Today, when I stand twenty five years away from birth and twenty five years nearer to death…I have no one else to thank or love so much….

Love you so much my Dear…Dearest…Angel Mother......!!!!!

Thank you Amma…I know, that it’s an irony to try to immerse all that you have given me in just a “Thank You”. For, its just like lighting a lamp in front of the Sun…but still….I don’t have even words to express my love for you…Thanks a lot…!!!

A flashback to Bhavans

I was eleven years old, and mol was eight. It was on 2nd of September, 1996 when we first wore that uniform in sky-blue and navy-blue. This is our new school. Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan’s Vidya Mandir…in short Bhavans.

It was around 9:45am when we first stepped into that quadrangle with our Uncle (Amma’s brother). The morning assembly was just over and the classes were about to started. A fresh and fine Monday morning. If it’s just a clean body and a pair of new uniform that defines freshness, then we too were fresh. We were never in a mood to even face a change. But the extent of brutality that time can make by placing the circum stances is simply unimaginable, or sometimes…unbearable.

Asking us to sit in the visitors chair in front of the office, our Uncle went in to meet the Principal. The school has just reopened after the ten days Onam holidays. From a few meters ahead we could hear a rough echoing male voice of a teacher from the classroom at the end of the verandah where we were sitting…we could hear the students pronouncing “Namasthe Teacher” in chorus from all over…some teachers where rushing to their respective classes with the attendance registers…, some students were running to their classrooms with a handful of chalks from the staff-room… I saw those students greeting the teacher’s with their hands (the palms) joined together and saying “Namasthe Teacher” by bowing their heads… I liked that way of greeting very much… some students were still coming… These where the scenes that welcomed us to that school building that stood in maroon and cream color. We watched it all with a chilled heart and a pale face.

Our Uncle came out of the Principal’s room. He patted us and said “The divisions have been allotted to you and you can join the class today itself. All the arrangements for your transportation to home are also done…so don’t worry…they will take care of you...” Before he finished an office staff came to take us to our classes. A Tamilian named KuppuSwamy with the picture of Lord Srikrishna tattooed on his right forearms. He quickly ended the conversation, wished us Good luck and walked away. We moved with that office staff…looking each other…and a lot tensed.

First it was Mol’s turn. IV-C, that was her class. When that man whispered something very softly to the teacher in that class, she welcomed Mol stretching her left hand and introduced her to the entire class. It was my turn next. A few yards ahead I could see the sixth standard classes. I was taken to VI-A. Here too that office staff murmured something to the teacher. He then laid his hand on my left shoulder with a smile and then moved on. I was given a seat in the second bench in the middle row.

After two days of non-stopping yelling, tears and chaos, I could hardly attend what all are happening around me. The heat in my eyes was not set down…those loud cries where still echoing in my ears…my head was paining as if would erupt in no time. I don’t know how mol was feeling. For she was younger than me…but I know...that she would also be feeling the same. That afternoon I was shifted to another class as the previous class was that office staff’s mistake. This was VI-B now. Here I was seated in the last bench of the middle row. The guy sitting next to me started questioning me.

“What is your name?” he asked. I said Varun.

“Where is your father working?” that question was fired very quickly.

“He passed away” I told in a very low voice.

With a sorry feeling he asked, “I’m Sorry; .When was it?”

“Day before yesterday…” I somehow managed to whisper that after a short pause. I could see the change of expression on his face. He suddenly stopped the conversation. That was Ray. My first friend in that school. A relation that lasts even now…even after fourteen years. We hardly have any likes or dislikes in common. But still that relation is quite stable even until this day.

The day of introduction was over. The mourning dark clouds at Achan’s house were still there. It was Amma’s loud cry when she saw us broke that cold necropolis like stillness. Those scenes still haunts me. Each second of those scenes are brilliantly and indelibly imprinted on the walls of my sensitivity. Every passing split second polishes those making it increase its clarity by every passing day.

So that was how my opening day at Bhavan’s was. I don’t know if that school building reflects the love I have for it. Like all the students I too have a lot of tales to tell. Only tales, but no personal affections. After my tenure spanning almost around seven years in that school campus, the only leftover is a handful of friends other than Ray like, Hrishi, Ashwin, Lavin, Aashish, Varun(s)…and one teacher… the one who owns that rough echoing male voice… the teacher whom I saw on my first day in that school… Jacob Sir.

I was never a good student. Or either there was hardly any stuff within me that could make me remain in their hearts. Just kept moving since the weather, time and the whole world around me kept changing. Nothing else… But the change in the entire order of climate was felt only when I sat in the class of that very same person who owns that rough echoing voice… Jacob Sir. I was in my eleventh standard. He hasn’t given me any additional personal affection or care. I was no special for him. I was just the one among the forty commerce students. But, it was there from where I got lighted up with a revelation… A self revelation.

Though it hasn’t helped me during my school days, I can say that by the time I came out I had different attire. I had no attachments and no arguments with anyone in that campus. Only affection I felt was to the relevance they gave to the heritage and the great masses of “out-of-book” knowledge that was imparted to the students. Over the years in my life as a student of Bhavans, those talks and lectures have helped me immensely in laying a platform to gather more knowledge on that religious and cultural. But the factor that was to be felt pity was that, most of the dumb-heads used these only as a mean to cut classes.

Other than those limited mixture of beautiful and ugly scenes and episodes, I have nothing else to say about Bhavans like my other friends have. As the curtain falls, that school building that stood in maroon and cream remains as a backdrop of a play that began after a tragedy and that was scripted monotonously till the climax. And when it’s time to display the credits, I don’t have a too long list… I just have one person to thank. The man who gave his students the essence of education, the man who played the role of my transformer. The man who taught me to fight against circumstances when it plays the villain and to enjoy it when it travels with me in the same direction.

Thanks a lot for him for laying such a platform for me, standing on which I was able to discover and unearth myself which I felt was lost forever. Thanks a lot to that man who owns that rough echoing voice… the celebrated Teacher whom I saw on my first day in that school… Jacob Sir.

…and thanks a lot to that building too that stood in maroon and cream color… Thank you...Bhavans…!!!

"I"

I do not have a story to tell.
I do not have a day to discuss.
I do not have incidents to reminisce about.
I have nothing and nobody to reveal.
I have but just myself.
And having just myself is not such a bad thing after all.
At least I have something.

I may be in possession of the greatest riches in the world.
I may be in possession of the greatest opportunities in the world.
I may be in possession of the greatest wisdom that exists in the world.
But... if I do not have myself … I have nothing …

I may be the poorest of the poor.
I may have nothing in material gain.
I may have no knowledge.
But … if I do not have myself … I have nothing …

If I cannot put to use the material gain.
If I cannot put to use my lack of opportunity to attain opportunity,
then … I am and have nothing!!

At the end of the day it is only the ‘I’ that shall strive for betterment.
It is only the ‘I’ that shall attempt to achieve and overcome,
it is only the ‘I’ that shall face the turmoil,
take the decisions, and face the accolades and the abuse. ‘I’.
Nothing more, nothing less.

There will be support.
There will be friends and well wishers and family
and it’s extended incarnations.
But eventually it will be just the ‘I’ that shall prevail in the end.
I shall have to do,
I shall have to suffer,
I shall get the appreciation and love,
I shall prosper, I shall fail. I.

Such an important word, I.
Can we ever do without it?
I do not know…see…used ‘I’ again ha haa!!

A Royal 350cc Dream.

He was in the garage awaiting a touch of mine…a little dusty…he’s my Bullet 350…the one and only single thing that I dreamt and desired for sixteen years. And this four months gap that came two months after I earned him made me crazier about this 350cc fat boy. I walked around him, dusted him with my kerchief, gave a pat on the tank with my fingertips, and then threw my right leg across him, equaled the ampere, and slightly pushed the kicker. Slowly and steadily he responded ...DHOPP... DHOPP... DHOPP... the clamor which used to drive me crazier than the craziest being on hell, heaven, and earth. My right foot rose to shift gear to the first position. I felt a change in his roar. He was ready for the take-off. Each movement of mine seemed to be mechanical. The man and the machine were moving in tandem as if they knew each other for ages. Slowly, the four fingers of my left hand which held the clutch closely to the handle grip loosened. We started to move now.

I was enjoying each and every nanosecond of those actions. I felt prouder than Alexander the Great on Bucephalus when I’m on my heavy-metal 350cc cast iron engine. We are running on the NH-47. The cold wind carrying sprinkles of small drops is embracing me…I can hear a song in the background. I’m confused. Does it sound like my alarm? Pazhavoor is knocking at the door...Begorraaa..!!! Was that a dream..?? Oh no...

The Bullet was the only single thing that I have wished to own right from the age of nine. I still remember that afternoon when I started to notice this bike that moves with a resonance like at least ten continuous firing bazookas.

July-August was the time when we used to fly to Kerala from Dubai for spending our summer vacation. One afternoon when we were heading towards Muthuwara (Amma’s place) from Thrissur, near the Patturaikkal junction a man in a maroon shirt overtook our Ambassador cab. Just then I heard Achan and our driver talking to each other about the bike that man was riding. From the back seat, I peeped to have a glance of that guy through the windshield of our cab. I couldn’t see him again. But we could still hear that...DHOPP...DHOPP...DHOPP...

That was how I started to notice this machine. As time fled this grew so much in me that anyone who knew me was aware of the Bullet element in me too. But when will I gain it...I knew that one day I will earn it. But when…?? How far am I from that day..?? Even though these questions which I used to ask myself used to hurt me...I was pretty well aware and sure that a day is definitely there.

It was on the 18th of July, 2009 when I made my first move towards this great dream. I dashed into the showroom near Thrissur railway station. From there I got the brochure and various details along with a piece of shocking news that the Bullet Standard 350cc model was going to be discontinued in April 2010. I didn’t know if I could win the race with my only dream before that time...because I was only going to join my new office on the 20th of July, 2009. The reason why I walked into that showroom was just to set a target that within a certain period I should own my dream. But now I was totally confused thinking about whether I would be able to save INR 80,000 by April 2010..?? From here destiny takes its chance to roll the dice in the game.

Everything was almost set with February – March as the deadline. Now Vivu (my first cousin) also joins the party. The wait and savings were going smoothly until September when I was chosen as one among the four-member team to fly to Indonesia on deputation any time before January. Though this was a very good opportunity for me, all our plans were crushed. But it didn’t foment us. We believed maybe it was destined to get a little early for us. And on the 28th of November, 2009 was our day to conquer that sixteen-year dream.  I now own a bullet...!!!

Now when the tires of my Bullet rolls through the path on which the chariot wheels of king Shakthan once rolled…I’m confused again…is it the Bullet that came down from my dream world or is it that I am absorbed into that globe...

When I have a Mother waiting for me, a Father guiding me, a Teacher praying for me, and above all a Deity who is always looking for a chance to bless me...I believe...that no dream shall dare to stay away from me...but I hardly have any dreams left...