Thank you Facebook.

It happened again. Perhaps this is the second time I’m starting a post with the same words. And apparently, both the posts were made to say something that happened in friendship. By a sheer nuance of coincidence the other post was also written in March, last year. That time it was about a separation, and this time it’s about a reunion.

Dashing straight to the matter – in the past 3 weeks I got back several friends after a long span of 15 years. Facebook was the platform destined for this reunion. Of course, it wasn’t that easy for any of us to recognize each other on the first look itself. Obviously, the weights of around 40-50 Kgs that have piled up in each one of our bodies have the right to make us look big and different. J

It was refreshing to have those childish memories resurrected one after the other from among the various buried memories. Those days when we started to use pen for writing, the fountain pen and the pelican pen being the show off factors among us. Days, during which we all had a strong thought that cartoons, superheroes and WWF is the only caused for which TV was invented. Days, during which the “Today”, was nowhere there, even in our thoughts and dreams. Days, where the word ‘decision’ was just a word in the English language.  All these and many others, like the pages in a flicker book, displayed a quick show in me on the way back home from office.

Beautiful days. Really beautiful days. But, I’m happy…really happy that Good God is now returning us that entire he ‘can’.

It always makes us feel good when you get back something which u felt was lost forever.  

Thank you God...!!!

Thank you FB…!!!

A Bonus for the ‘Retrospective’ Me.

Writing about the various formats of departures and separation episodes happening in with me have become a cliché in APHORISMS. Those weren’t intentional. People may find this monotonous. But when it’s a page of life you can’t just escape skipping it.

And what has been written until now is a preface for me to crash into yet another story of separation. This time it’s something beyond the “separation story”.

The story starts from the 14^th September, 2009 when I met this man. For various (silly) reasons I’m bound myself not to reveal anything more about him. He was an elder brother for me, in all ways except in the blood-relation way. My living with him have taught me many “what should be” and “what should not be”. And the most remarkable achievement that I could achieve very soon after meeting him was an extension to this friendship. For as I always used to say, when a relation infects me beyond the barriers of friendship, they nest a space in me of any format of blood relation with respect to their age. As a matter of that theory, here, I got an elder brother and to elder sisters..and extensions are still coming in..that's the magic of this relation. I'm lovin' it..!!!

I believe that I used to be the biggest nuisance in the group explaining them my own plans, plots and principles. Being the younger one in the gang I used to irritate them the most and eat up their ears (ahem..!! FYI…not the Mike Tyson way...), creating an overall mess. For, I’m very possessive when I feel a person is mine. That is my flaw. Hearing anything about them as a black or gray joke from another person used to be thing that irritates me the most. For me, it’s my mistake that I heard something about them when I’m their best friend. Its my failure. And when there happens something like that, I take all the pain to make them understand what I feel.  Some may like, while some may not.

Now this is where my eyes shut themselves at the bright light of revelation. A revelation which speaks in me in a low voice… “I hate me for loving people so much”…

So this was how it went on as of now, for a little more than a year to be a little more precise. In the meanwhile, a petal had already separated from this flower. And, separation just means the increase of the physical distance between the so called “petals”. Nothing more…perhaps I think the intensity is directly related to the distance. It’s been proven several times.

But, even though I have had several such relations, this was a special group. For, they came out from nowhere and they provided me the strategies and arms in a battlefield on which I was an unarmed kid.

That was how it went…

Now when this man (about whom I started this post) was leaving, there arouse an idea among the remaining 3 petals to give him a memento of our friendship. The idea and its execution were clinically operated without losing even the slightest quantum of the suspense element for him. Following this, there came an opinion from one of the petals; to make some space in Aphorisms for this friendship. They asked me to script it with all what I have in mind.

Being an admirer of the past, I used to have a note of each passing day. Not a regular daily diary entry. I keep an Excel sheet which used to be my private joy. When the wanted me to write on our friendship I revealed (for the first time) that there was one such thing which I used to maintain. And I mailed it to them. Surprisingly for me, it surprised them a lot. They kept reading it on and on... one of them said its great and the other said they loved me a lot for that. Hmm….

Past, Present and Future. Among this I would always say that ‘Past’ is the most beautiful. Because, to evaluate the beauty of a painting the artist needs to finish it. During the ‘Present’ he can only keep on adding final touches to the beauty. Only after the final touch he admires the beauty of his own painting. Hence, I feel, beauty is always something of the past. ‘Future’ is only anticipation, just like a suspense-thriller.

Past reminds you of your mistakes, the hardships you overcame and also at some point bring a slight tender smile onto your face which sometimes can take shape of a big laughter. It may sometimes submerge you in thoughts which may roll out as few drops or a deep sigh.

I’m also really happy for myself that I could create a joy for my friends to a cent. Perhaps I think…the most apt memento that I can give for those three petals are the notes on those days…the Past…the memmories..and each degree of curve drawn on their faces to form a silly cute smile is my bonus...

The "T" Factor

She is a very slender and fair girl with a heavy and profound name (only when you are hearing it for the first time). A girl of North Indian origin whose family has been hailing in Thrissur for a couple of generations to run their family business. She also speaks Malayalam like any other native of Thrissur.

“She’s my best friend...as fragile as a crystal statue.., as light hearted as an angel.., as short-tempered as me. She's a cool personality having her own dreams n ambitions and apart from being ma best friend...she's sometimes my teacher and always like my cute little sister...

She's my 666% certified BEST FRIEND....”

This was only that I could express when I wrote a testimony in her Orkut profile. She is my best friend. We never knew each other even if we studied in the same school for a couple of years. She was my junior there.

It was when I joined for ICWAI at the Thrissur Chapter that we met each other. The knowledge that we were both from the same school sprouted a friendship without a preface phase. And as days, weeks and years passed it grew deeper. And the combine studies with four of us (Shyamettan, me, Praseeda and herslef) at her house also added me as if a family member of hers. Another must say thing about her is that she also used to my Maths teacher during those days, for I used to be thoroughly unarmed in that war-field when the “Probability” chapter comes in to attack.

She’s is yet another sister that Good God gave me. For me, friendship when it grows beyond friendship it prompts a feel in me that they are someone of my blood relation. This feel has given me a lot of mothers, sisters, brothers, uncles and so on. And I too feel that I’m a better human when I’m in their orbit.

And what makes me so happy enough to script this post is that, today she's stretching out her wings to fly into another level of life...she’s getting married today. And it’s really very hard to explain how I feel when I’m not to witness her transition from Miss to Mrs…for there are some events where I in no way can even imagine of being an just an invited guest. This was one such event where I had a role more than that of just a guest.

This post is for her and her soul mate…only for them…

Let them have long, gorgeous, healthy, sanctified, considerate, peaceful, blissful, lively, rewarding married life. My Prayers…..

That is only what this distance allows me to reach out to them…my prayers and wishes to them once again…..

Hero Hotel, Palace Road, Thrissur-680020

I never even thought that I would have a blog or so. It was my feel towards Rema Teacher that prompted me to do so. I couldn’t stop writing when it was about her. But after the first two posts, it was felt as if I had nothing else to mention as a post. One day when Dineshettan (My brother in law) asked me “what your next post is on?” I said I was waiting for a subject to get hooked in mind. For that he had a very enlightening reply for me. He said “You have subject all around you. All you have to be is a bit selective”. And the result is the remaining posts in my Aphorisms…which now will keep going….

A few days back when I surfing Orkut Communities related to Thrissur, I came to see a community for Hero Hotel. The very next second I too was a member of that community. The next piece of thought that struck me was to share this with the life around me. Some may think that, what is there so much to say about this very low-profile hotel…but.., Hero Hotel deserves a post in my Aphorisms…

Hero Hotel - It’s not a star hotel, nor does it have a chain or any sister concerns. You can only find it at the Palace Road, Thrissur; as one odd figure in the row of world class textile and jewellery showrooms. It is Hero Hotel. You can find it only in Thrissur…only - in - Thrissur.

Hero Hotel is situated in the midst of the Palace Road, which is becoming the most enterprising 1.2 Kilometers of straight line in Thrissur…a place where one can find a very rare blend of Art and Commerce thriving into international fame every passing moment. Apart from that, what this thirty year old hotel has to boast about is the wide range of its customers. From veteran artists, dancers, theatre artists, business men...anyone and everyone can be found there. I have seen many of the prominent figures of Malayalam film industry like Late Bharath Murali, Shwetha Menon, Revathy, the ace directors Adoor Gopalakrishnan and Shyamaprasad here. Even longer is the list of those who can be found there, who make a short visit during the break of any function going on in the Kerala Sahithya Academy, to have a strong tea or snacks. They are all common there. They will be having no reserved tables, no one staring at them and no crowd around them for autographs or photographs. And above the reach of the act of counting will be the moments when the walls of this hotel witnessed the long chats with its masterpiece combination dish – “Porotta, Beef fry, gravy and tea” decorating the table and also being a medium for their chats regardless of its importance. Discussions can go up to any level like the latest issues in art, music, cinema, dance, fashion, banking, animation, real estate and what not.

Arun, a strong Communist and an ardent VS fan, the cool and gentle Sajeeve, -- they own this Hotel now which was started by their father. The other to-be-mentioned characters who can be found here are - the irresistible IKKA (Jamalikka), Thadiyan - a strong fan of Mohanlal, Johnson, Guruvayoorappan- the film critic, Itty, Paul Chandy , Late Santhosh Jogi – the actor, the band Overdrive, the theater activists, the Social Workers, The HDFC Executives, Arena Animators, The Cinematic Dancers…the list goes on.

This is Hero Hotel. It was when I’m in studying in my 9th standard that I came to see this Hotel for the first time. I used to have tuitions after school hours at Rajarathnam Sir’s Tuition center in Palace Road for Maths every weekday from 5:15 pm to 7:15pm. One day when I and Ashwin were returning home I came to notice a new hotel in the corner where the road to Vadakke Bus stand starts from the Palace Road. The rush and the overall atmosphere was as if a festival in there. On my further enquiry I came to know that it was not a new one and it was reopened after a renovation.

For the past 11 years dishes of Hero Hotel keeps my mouth watering. Over these years I also was lucky enough to gain a lot of friends there. And even now ArunChettan and SajeeveChettan call me “Kutty” (meaning Kid). Once, very recently, I asked ArunChettan that everyone stares at me when he call me like that. They wonder: “is Arun calling this big guy, ‘Kutty’”. His reply was something which made me love me more. It was like this which started with a loud echoing laugh… “I don’t remember exactly when you came here for the first time. But, you were a kid when I started to notice you. No matter how big you grow or where you reach…in Hero Hotel you will be called liked that only…” what made me happy was that even in the big crowd that passes through he is mind each day…I have a place in his mind…that’s where I tasted the sweetest honey of friendship for yet another time….

But some of my schoolmates used to stand with the opinion that Hero is no so clean or not so much measure is done to maintain a good ambience when compared to the other famous no-so-big hotels in Thrissur like Bharath, Pathans or Jaya and you cant go there with your family and all. Never ever have I cared about those they used to say. It may be because of a total different circle of friends that I have over there like those names mentioned somewhere above. Or, it could be the addiction to those dishes that was sprouted in me that made me not to care about these. Nor was I bedridden because of some illness from this hotel.

I never used to go there with family. This is the resort only for buying parcel of food and having it at home for the "most-lazy" evenings. But some days when Amma is away, Vivu (my cousin, my right-hand) come my house by around 10pm. And then we used to go to Hero for a very slow dinner and come back late after having chat with all those whom we see there.

If there is a place for us to buy food to make some normal lazy days a little more delicious, this is it. It is Hero Hotel. You can find it only in Thrissur…only - in - Thrissur….!!!

Commerce Batch 2001-2003 ....a tale of 605 days...

Apart from an episode that I wrote about my first day and a slight schema of my school life, there was a period that was left unsaid in that piece of script. It was the final six hundred and five days of my school life. A period that stands like a rose damp in the dew of a cold morning in my life as a student. So fresh. So nourishing. With full of energy.


There were forty of us. We were all combined in our Eleventh standard as the Commerce Batch 2001-2003 students under Jacob Sir and Geetha Teacher. Initially, the entire class was divided into two major groups. Boys and Girls. In that itself there used to be a lot of sub groups too...

But, that situation survived only for a couple of months. By then those great walls between us melted. We used to feel so homely in and outside the school campus. We used to feel it as a spirit when we boast that we are the students of Jacob Sir and Geetha Teacher. It was true that the scale of that spirit was not the same in each of us. It varied in each one of us and it could only vary. And I believe that, that spirit had an out of the ordinary worth that was in possession with no other student of that school.

Jacob Sir and Geetha Teacher. They were the head teachers of the commerce department. Both were strict and loved their students like their own children. But they way they both expressed it was entirely different. When to speak about Geetha Teacher, it is some of her masterpiece dialogues that hits my mind first. Some dialogues like “you people are notorious for your behavior”; “people who laugh for no reason are to be sent to a different place” and so on it goes. But the height of sincerity she had towards each one of her was remarkable. Though we all liked her very much, at times these words used to irritate us a lot. Sorry ma’am for being a bit frank….. But, I’m sure that what we all are today, have a share of the strain that she used to take to bring up each one of us. The sad thing is that to realize her feel for us, we had to move to the then unknown future, the present day, where those old days stands like a gorgeous tantalizing reverie…

Now comes the Macho-Man, Jacob Sir. What should I say about this man…? He is the person who moulds us into Commerce students. He was our class teacher in our eleventh standard. We all used to be his fans more than just students. His voice used to inspire us, scare us, and make us under his control with mutual admiration. He is the Magical-Teacher of Bhavans. A teacher who is the richest for the relation with his students even as the pages of years keep passing after the chapter called Bhavans is over in the book of life. His style and attitude used to fascinate us a lot. And yeah…, among all these the most important one that struck me was his 350cc Bullet Standard. The way he gets onto it, the way he starts it…MY GOD..!!! I was never able to tame my mind at all to wait for a day when I could buy a 350cc Bullet Standard of my own and use it the way he does. It would be an injustice if I didn’t admit the fact that he was the second person after Mohanlal who ignited that dream to buy a 350cc Bullet Standard into a much bigger forest fire which was only to the size of a spark within me. But he never knew that until I told him about it when I went to school for the first time, after my days as a student over there, on an Open-house day to collect my sister’s progress card. And the result…as u can guess was a loud laugh in that rough voiced and the waves of which was bounced from wall to wall several times in that classroom…

Sir used to have a minimum of three periods each in both the Eleventh and Twelfth Standards and each period used to be of forty minutes. And he also used to give us a lot of free periods allowing us to play. Let me be specific…this was never a reason why his students loved him so much. Even if he takes class for continuous hours we used to sit in the class as if we all are in a movie hall watching an action-thriller movie. Though we all were hard core fans of his, the interaction with him is still a nightmare. For him everyone was equal. Even the best student can be a victim of his caning. That whipping sound as the cane cuts the air and then that “CLAP” reverberation as it comes in contact with the buttocks of any one among us… Ooff..!!! Even now when I remember those my body makes a sudden jerk shutting my eyes tightly and stiffening my whole body for a moment. While caning someone Sir’s body language often reminds me Tigers Woods, the ace golf player…a Tiger Wood making a stroke with a single hand.

I was never ever his best student. Yet, by God’s grace….just only by God’s grace, none of my body parts have been a platform to produce that whipping sound when touched by a cane. Even for some issues which on which Geetha Teacher couldn’t make a control, Sir used to take the role of the executer. And in those situations, he may become several Tiger Woods together for just a single stroke. But still, we used to realize the reason and then correct it…both…those who have it and those who see it. But this never used to be the mode of approach when it was against girls. For them it was imposition. May be to write lengthiest problem of the Company Accounts a certain number of times. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Sometimes we may feel that caning is better than imposition. Because caning lasts for only a few minutes tension. But imposition spoils that night’s sleep and will also be caught by Geetha Teacher the next day for yawning in the class.

“Bhavans is a school were one can find the cream of teaching profession. And these two teachers are the purest part in that pot of cream. Of course there are some exceptions. After all there are exceptions in everything and everywhere. Whatever it may be, they are the best.” This was what my seniors used to say when I asked them about Sir, Geetha Teacher and their classes before entering into my eleventh standard. And we continued to say the same when our juniors asked us and it keeps going on. Commerce of Bhavans will remain the same with the energy of a teenager as long as they are there.

This was we…….

Aasish - True lover of Carnatic Music and a Die-hard fan of Mohanlal.

Akhilesh - Calm and quite outside…but a funny volcano inside. Ready for any mischieves.

Ani - Somewhat same like Akhilesh.

Anitha - The heavy-weight girl.

Artika – Brilliant and have a very good smile. She shifted from our school following her father's transfer reducing the strength of our batch to thirty nine.

Arun PA - Quite, Calm, Softspoken…the one who owns an extraordinary tale to say.

Arun R Warrier - The wit…another Die-hard fan of Mohanlal.

Betty – Ever smiling Pretty Betty.

Catherine - Quite, Cute, One among the Top 3 or 4 in the Class.

Cherian - a.k.a Chery. The chocolate guy. ‘Was’ an artist….

Dhanya - Quite from a “far” view. Miss Cheerful.

Diamol - Everywhere, every time…energy refuses comes down from the peak.

Goutham - The Ganguly fan. The silent but the subject in most of the gangs where he is present. Most popular for his gestures and actions.

Jayalakshmi – Quite (not when laughing). The listener among the 40.

Jithu - The Leftist in the making. Don’t know if the Leftist is still in the making or not.

Joji - Athlete. The Ben Johnson of Commerce. A pious guy with his own principles of values.

Krishnadas - Shortest but sharpest among all of us.

Meera – The thin and tall form of fun.

Neethu - Almost a copy of Meera. Someone who always find it hard to control laughing.

Nelson - According to him what he asks will be a sensible question. But, for those who hear may feel he's out of sense…hahaa...Sorry Nelson.

Nihas - The Athlete. The Bruce Lee. Decent guy with all kinds of jokes. Above all he’s a great singer too. He used to be my favorite music system during free hours.

Nirupama - The Judo Girl. Energy….that is what she is.

Prashanth - a.k.a Pashu. The magician. The prefect. The quickest one to get popular. I like that quality of his.

Poojitha - Miss Careless and funny.
Rakesh - Yet another athlete. Hard Worker.

Ray - Better known in another name…OMG..!! He's going to kill me for this. Ray, Aasish and me used to be seated together. He’s my first friend too.

Remya - Studious. Always first or second rank in class…..

Reshmi - A quite little girl.

Sanay - Jolly, cool and soft guy. Pashu's best friend. Everyones too.

Sangeetha - Same as Reshmi. A small quite girl.

Shalini - The slim beauty.

Shoby – “The Revolutionary” as per Geetha Teacher. A great fan of the cow boy novels authored by Louis L'Amour.

Simi - Always Fashion designing in head…also sings well…

Sithara - everywhere, every time…energy refuses comes down from the peak.

Sreejith - Record holder for making Jacob Sir pose like Tiger Woods for most number of times.

Srinath - Artist. Friend for all.

Tony - The Footballer. The Cricketer. All in one and an all-rounder.

Varun G - a.k.a Padayappa. Don’t exactly know how this name came into being. Most of the laughter in chorus during Geetha Teacher's class hours begins from our Padayappa.

Varun N - myself….I have no rights to speak about myself.

Vishal - He's the best known for the way he laughs. Ray and Padayappa are the guys to use to tease him the most.

Vivek - a.k.a Pattar….Quite from a far view…but cheerfully violent as we get closer.
 

…..and when we are together we were called the COMMERCE BATCH 2001-2003…..

Hahhaa…..now I feel as if I sat in the class for yet another time. While writing about each one of us it was felt as if I moved through those six hundred and five days of our life starting from June 21^st, 2001 to February 16^th, 2003 one by one. February 16^th: that was the day that was fixed by Sir to be the last day with the thirty nine of us together in a room called XII-E. He didn’t want anyone to be absent on that day. Will that ever happen again? I don’t think so. Even if it happens again, can we be that same students who were notorious for their behavior as Geetha Teacher used to say? Will we be the same as when we were in those two shades of blue? I don’t know.

That was the best herd for friends I have ever got in my life…and luckily I’m in touch with almost all of them. And some of them got married and now have kids with whom they can share these stories of theirs.

Thank you...dearest teachers...and my dear dearest friends…Thank you all….

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…!!!

An Awesome Journey Decorated with Values – Friendship..!!!

March 5, 2010:

It happened again. Genuine and unconditional, that is how I would like to answer when I am asked to describe Friendship. I know it is more than that. Rest remains as a deep feeling in my inner self. Yet another friend is untying by distance. It’s a wound. It hurts. But it won’t last long. There is Time. He will come to cure it for me. He has helped me several times in doing so, in situations worse than this. But this time when it happened I thought to pen it. Felt like sharing…that’s all…

I commit to memory attending the interview with the least measure of apprehension or anticipation. I got the job. I joined my first job place in July, 2009. That was quite an unexpected windfall I got. I didn’t have to hunt for a job. It was not at all by my credit. Let me be more specific.

I was a tender kid, just a kid in my new office in contrast to my life until then. Apparently that was a total different world for me. Each and every face was brand new. Everything was changed in just one day. My dress code changed from casuals to formals. My fellow mates changed from classmates and batch mates to colleagues. My superiors changed from Teachers to Bosses. The whole thing happened in just one day. I’m a professional now. As I said earlier, if it was a miracle it was not by my big poise, but just because of the muscle of destiny. Days passed without any kind of expression.

I know…I will have some souls here too. But don’t know who they are and when and how will I run into them. I became close to many people before I met them, but the frequency never used to match. It’s not that I wrangle with all those who are not my friends. But I remain a lot reserved. I refuse to open up. Not intentionally, it’s an in-built feature. I can’t help it. Almost 2 months passed. As I believed and trusted in my destiny, I got 3 friends here. Again this time all of them elder than me. It seems that I am not all that fine in communicating with people of my same age. Like my friends sphere in my lovely Thrissur like Sureshettan, Sasi uncle, Venkidi Sami, Sojan Chettan, Dr. Ramkumar, Avinash, DivyaChechy(s) and some of my schoolmates with whom I'm still in touch..., here also I’m gaining some angels lacking wings – I got them.

Days were simply great after meeting them. Office ambiance (for me) by no means remained the same. Their friendship gave me a very good growth in that until then strange atmosphere of my 1st job place. Mails, sms’, going out for lunch, treats, calling each other’s nicknames, photo sessions, giving me the flashbacks of various gossips in office...So on, it went. I never thought I would be a fraction of them. But I really loved the friendship of those three even before being a part of them. Seeing such lovely closeness also gives me immense bliss. Here also…my entry was automatic.

Somehow… somewhere…someone... keeps sending some persons to be my friends. They develop into my brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, grandparents and all formats of blood relation according to their age. Perhaps I can utter a hundred stories where these “wave-length” relations have come as a direct proxy whenever and wherever the blood relation fails either to live or to uphold its quality. I love me more for my affection and relation that I have with these people.

This could be the friendship with the shortest span of my life. But it never failed to drill so deep and hard into me. Really a couple of good days were those. Our visit to Indonesia on deputation spited the gang to two halves. Two months after that…on this day came the second split. She got a nice offer away from here, and is planning to settle down there with her husband who already got a job there and her cute little son. This is the most gripping trait of life. Because the twists and turns it makes in our journey without a roadmap is simply beyond the imaginations of any story writer. It may sometimes be a reason to laugh and sometimes a reason to cry. Nothing stands forever. Sometimes we also pray for them, when we understand that there is a better part of life waiting for them far away forms us.

Perhaps, I think that we should not be blindly attached to anyone. Because, the more you are attached to a person the more will be the pain when he/she is separated from us. As a kid I remember myself weeping when I miss my cousins and relatives when we reach back Dubai after our summer vacation. Amma used to scold me a lot for being attached to people so deeply and so soon. She always says that that will be your flaw in life. She was true. Incidents like parting, death, break ups etc gave me practical’s of Amma’s theories. Those changed me.

But still, even today I love people and get attached to them much sooner and deeper than before. But the tides that hit the shores within me keep blowing a slow and cold breeze which always keep on saying softly without hurting me “The story of Friendship is Eternal…but the characters keep changing. Don’t say that you want the same characters throughout...Everyone needs a chance to meet everyone…Don’t be the end of any chain…be a part of it...” This strategy has really given me a revival. I think the awareness of detachment makes you powerful.

An office without four of us working together was not unimaginable. As I told, I had already scripted these episodes and have read them several times as our friendship grew thicker and deeper. Parting with friends in physical distance is not a new thing for all of us. There are times when we don’t even think of them as we gallop into future bearing the pressure, pleasure, struggle and new friends. Even though I too am nothing different, what I pray and strive for is to be in touch with all those who was and is my friends at least until I’m brain dead. Because I believe that relationships are not a disposable product that we buy from the store of Good God…it should be gifted…!!!

…but still…even though I spelled all these…sometimes when some of the most beautiful flicks and scenes of those days make a flicker in psyche…it…it aches…

Thoovanathumbikal

I remember the song...”Onnam ragam paadi..onnine maathram thedi.." I used to cry when I was a kid of 3-4 years old to hear that song again and again without knowing that there was no rewinding in radio. That was my favorite song those days. No. Perhaps I can say that was the song which I could recognize as the first song of my life which I discovered to sing by myself.

That song became dearer to me when I saw Mohanlal in it. Our whole family are real Mohanlal fans. For us, when we grew up Mohanlal became Lalettan among our cousins. And our life in Thrissur became yet another factor for this movie to catch my soul. I was in love. No, not 'was', I’m in true blind love with my town, the typical Thrissur slang, the Thrissur Round and Vadakkumnathan Temple... I can breathe easily there...

It was during my B.com 2nd year that I joined NIIT. I got some pretty good friends there. Rakesh, Saneesh, Jaggoo, Venkidi, Rahul a.k.a Committee, Rashid, Geo, Sreekesh and Sreenath. As like in all the students gang, movies used to be the main topic for our hot discussions during the intervals and other leisure hours. But the factor to be noticed was, never ever was it about the current releases. It always used to be about the classics that had been made in Malayalam. We were crazy about Padmarajan and Bharathan movies. Those were a set of real good days.

In the duo, Padmarajan stood a little higher among us. Again a reason was born which brought Thoovanathumbikal closer to me. It will be suicidal if i just say that it’s a good movie. It’s a class. With no similarities, without minding any bloody criticisms, a story like a river...an essence like a poem…that is bold, beautiful and strong from all possible view points. Both the protagonists, Jayakrishnan and Clara possess a multi faceted outfit. Though Jayakrishnan was a real life character, the moulding by Padmarajan and the rendering by Mohanlal was simply brilliant. And Clara...what to say about that character. She is the linchpin of the story. You can also see Padmarajan beautifully signing this classic with rain which makes a cameo appearance in the movie.

Even though I told all these, I have only seen this classic bits and pieces during those days. i never got a chance for seeing it in a stretch until I bought the CD with brother-in-law, Dineshettan from Music Park, Thrissur. Thank God..!! For we have so many crazes in common. Like…the films of Mohanlal, sound of Yesudas…and it goes on. Since then I don’t know how many times I have watched this film. That is one of those classic movies I have in my mobile also, since there are some things I would like to be with me wherever I go.The story depicts a friendly, sincere and virile man and his resolutions, his crazes and so on. It’s a true story with a handful of class artists and shockingly brilliant sequences. Another major factor was the locations, that was naturally natural.I reckon…, the theory of diminishing marginal utility taught in our economics class turns out to be something meaningless every time I watch this movie. Each time the satisfaction climbs a never ending sky. There is no saturation.

Every time I see this flick there is a sense of contentment .I think the climax has a lot to do with this. The movie keeps haunting me for hours after I watch it and this happens every single time. Especially the background score...WOW!!

I couldn’t help feeling nostalgic.... I am satisfied yet another time…

Thoovanathumbikal..."Butterflies of the spraying rain"....

Miss Rema

She was a well learned Brahmin lady who did about 61 substantive years on Mother Earth. One who was able to speak volumes about moral values, Indian heritage and tradition, and above all mathematics-the maths. She was seen only with the company of her better half, her Swami, which is how she used to call him, Mr. Venkateswaran. Who always used to be by her left side.

Teacher…that is how everyone used to call her. She worked as the Mathematics departments head in Vimala College, Thrissur. An ardent devotee of Vadakkumnathan. A very cheerful mother for the all kids she knew, especially for those, whom she used to meet regularly in Vadakkumnathan temple during those times. Though she hasn’t taught us in schools or so, yet we too, Amma, mol and me, started calling her Teacher...Miss Rema.

Very soon we occupied a good part in her heart. She was the senior most of my mom’s that Vadakkumnathan gifted me. But before that sheer chance of acquaintance, we used to reckon Teacher as a wonder lady from Divya chechy (She is the first among my many sisters that Vadakkumnathan gifted me...), as a lady with tremendous will strength, as someone who is dearest to my Vadakkumnathan. Because, before that we knew that she was not just a survivor of breast cancer but, is shaking hands to the excruciation of pernicious leukemia which was just an infant then.

Days passed. Months passed stealing those days. Teacher’s house became one of my “before-home” places after my class time like Sureshettan’s show room, Ray’s and Mohan uncle’s houses and all. I became one of her best friends. Some people used to make fun of me saying I only had many superannuated friends. But those moments, being in their gang, to hear stories of their time and about hot business deals going on in Thrissur, unwanted current affairs discussions while sitting under the Asoka tree’s concrete platform in Vadakkumnathan will be the next thing that I would thirst for when away from my Thrissur, after Amma and Vadakkumnathan.

Everything went on good until that day when Teacher fainted while bathing. The much awaited blood test report didn’t have anything that was good to reveal. It could only say that she was eyed by the Unknown. Though she was a little shaken, she was still confident. They then started to seek all extremes of treatment available. She was hospitalized in Vellore. Some nights when pain tears her apart she used to call Amma. When I hear Amma consoling her, I remember Teacher saying “When your body aches, that can be cured with your will strength and mere medicines. But when some twists happen in life that mashes your soul and mental, only the Omnipotent can lend his supportive hand of blessing for you. Your Amma is such a person who stands steady and stern with stout even after she was mashed mentally several times by the twists in life. She has a protective layer of blessings of her ancestors and all the Gods. Whenever I feel my disease is teasing me, Sobha comes first in my mind. Her voice solaces me, her words energizes me”.

Now, more than being a credential, this is a real blessing for my Amma – The Great. Not for hearing something good from someone like her. Because that is very easily possible, for she never speaks anything disconfirming about anyone. She has always had something good in everyone. But being a mental heal for her is something divine. That day I really wished if she said something like that about me too. Because, with those words comes immense blessing from the bottom of her heart. I have never felt that I was someone who deserves to hear something like that.

It took more than a year and a half for disease to defeat her body. But the will strength was still the same. When there was nothing else more to be done from the side of medicines, she was discharged from the Vellore hospital and brought back home. She was back in her routine. She was also regular in Vadakkumnathan. All these days, though she was coming, everyone’s mind murmured that we won’t be able to see her for long. Her hair shortened, her whole body was swollen. Almost a month and a half rolled away, when the disease returned with all its strength as if to play its final round.

I remember that night; it was about 10:30pm when our land phone rang. I attended the call. It was Swamy at the other end with a very short conversation. It was like this “Today Doctor told me that Rema’s condition is really bad and that she will not complete this night. But she heard our conversation. So I just called to tell this to you”. I told this to Amma in the same tone. And Amma asked me to be there at once, because teacher want you there. When I reached there she was lying in her room as if all set for the final journey. We spoke overnight. About death then recovering from it and so on. She was gradually picking up. I could feel it. But she can’t take it long. I knew that.

In the days that remained, Teacher was under the treatment of The Pain and Palliative Care Unit in Thrissur. It is a worldwide organization for cancer patients. It has no mission to cure the disease. It prepares the patients who are suffering in their final stage to travel well. That’s all. And it has Doctors who work voluntarily in it. This was a real blessing for Teacher too. She suffered no pain towards her end of consciousness. Two-three days passed. I used to be there whenever time allows. From a friend, I became a son for her. One day, time was around 10:00pm, I helped her to lie down in her bed. She was talking greedily. When I asked her to take rest, she told something…”today some of my students came to see me. I told about you to everyone. I said that I have a Hero here called Varun…he’s my 3^rd son… you will have a very bright future”. I stood as if hit by a lightning… I could do nothing but explode into tears. I could speak nothing in return. I gave her a deep kiss on her forehead with all my love. That was the last day she spoke in her life. She was in comatose for 3 days after that.

The Final day:

Jul 25th, 2007: From the information that I gained from Dr. Ramkumar, it was a shock for me to hear that she won’t cover this night…or tomorrow’s noon. It was around 8:00pm then. I immediately rang Radha Aunty who was a nurse in the Pain and Palliative Care Unit in Thrissur. For the past one week, after Teacher consulted with the Pain and Palliative Care, Radha Aunty used to visit her daily twice or thrice. She too told me that it’s almost time… Around 9:30 my mobile was ringing. It was Radha Aunty. With a deep breath that had all my prayers I picked up the call. The conversation was straight. “its almost time. Come fast.” I had no second thought. Sprang with my bike. Picked up Radha aunty on the way to teacher’s house.

That was for the first time I was entering on a situation or a stage of life where I could share a scene with Death. I was not entering that room for the first time. But that day I felt it strange within it. I could feel an energy that was not human. It was calm. It was cold. I could see Teacher breathing her last breath. I could hear Teacher’s daughter crying and her two son’s easing her controlling themselves.

If I was seeing this situation in a film, I feel, it could have given me a stammering mind at least for a few minutes. But here I felt as if in heaven when I was listening Radha aunt’s instruction to turn teacher’s body straight. The atmosphere had something divine in its fragrance. May be Vadakkumnathan himself might have come down to welcome his dear child to a place unknown.

While writing this, I dint count the number of drops that took birth in my eyes, lived through my cheeks and died in my T-shirt. When I have retrospection, I feel I am honored to be myself a quantum contributor for at least that decrepit smile which appeared on her face to welcome me to her room on the last day she could remember on this planet. But, I still can hear a child in me crying out loud when he lost yet another big soul in life. Those could be his tears.

----- I love you…my dear Miss Rema. I don’t miss you… for I know you will be there with me to celebrate when I win and solace me when I fail…