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...

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…

LAL SALAM...!!!

May 20, 2004. I have a crystal clear image of that night. Thrissur was not fully asleep that night. Former Cheif Minister of Kerala, E.K Nayanar’s corpse, which was on its way to Kannur from Trivandrum, was scheduled to halt in Thrissur that night. Due to the delay that happened at all the halted places, the time was around midnight when it reached Thrissur Corporation Office. Such was the rush of people who turned up for a last glimpse of the leader all along the route that the 500-km-long journey took five and a half hours more than the scheduled time.

On the other side, on the North-West face of the Swaraj Round, at Vadakkumnathan Temple premise, Matha Amrithananthamayi’s devotees were conducting a religious program. That was an overnight program with Spiritual talks, Bhajans, and Blessings. The Traffic in Round resembled the eve of Thrissur Pooram. It was a total mess.

Was it because of the sorrow of a dear leader's demise, or was it because of the divinity of Matha Amrithananthamayi? I don’t know why it was so. The sky was pouring heavily. The devotees of Matha Amrithananthamayi could withstand the rain only for less than an hour. The chaired area was almost empty. Most of the people who did not get a token for receiving her hug-blessing left the place without a second thought. Some who had the token gave it back to the volunteers and scooted.

But the scene was different in front of the Thrissur Corporation Office. Men and women of all age kept coming from both ends of M.O Road either in groups or alone roaring “Lal salaam" for their leader. The situation was out of control for the Police Department. Perhaps there was nothing to control. That was the most disciplined political crowd I have ever seen. Perhaps that was the most emotional one too.

Those "Inquilab Zindabad" are still echoing in my ears. When I close my eyes I can see those strong fists rising into air punching the rain drops. Some aged people was leaning on the pillars, some fainted without being able to carry their heavy heart. They were running out of tolerance as if it was the body of their very close family member that was brought covered in white. The young blood supported those who fell down with one hand and the other hand still punching those heavy raindrops and throats roaring the slogans. Each and every voice was cracked as if coming from a torn throat; yet very loud. Their tears were not visible in the rain. But I saw them wiping their eyes. A quote of Charlie Chaplin whispered in my mind. “I love to walk in the rain because no one can see my tears”. I now think that it could be that big leader hands that came down for the last time to wipe the tears of his supporters as that heavy rain. This is what a leader should mean. Controversies may be there. Who cares? Even our poor gods are not free from that.

  

Nobody was invited to both the gatherings at each end of Thrissur that night. But the spirit was different. A ruler is considered equivalent to the gods for the Indians right from the beginning of History and a rain was quite enough to test and prove it again. One cannot say that it was the Party that won there. It was E K. Nayanar’s victory. A victory that even Death would turn back once again with a smile. What an irony!! And this was the only way how his subjects could express it for the last time. And that justifies why it came out to be an emotional one.

Even I have prayed for the soul of this atheist. 

– My tribute to those comrades...a deep red Salute...LAL SALAAM…!!!

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"....

Death – A Revelation so beautiful…

Teacher’s death… I think that was what made the face of Death look more beautiful for me. Even many movies, talks and articles have played some role in making Death as one of my most fascinating subjects. I don’t know why people are so afraid. Why say people..?? Even I was just the same. Even I had a very dull color for Death in my mind. These false thoughts, is like a river that started flowing form time unidentified through the generations born and dead. And it’s still flowing. It’s now more contaminated. It is gaining strength by each passing generation.

It is true that Death brings loses to those left over by the dead. It happens at any stage of life. For some it may happen when life has just begun blossoming. He may not visit someone who is waiting for him. Hence, some so called philosophers defines him as a “Clown without the sense of scene”.

But, I don’t exactly know how and when. It can be my nuttiness to think and speak so. The mass may not accept it. I know. But, Death is also an Angel sent from a place unknown, separating us from our physical form of existence. Why do we need to be afraid of it? Actually he is the real hero. He is the one who gives us a realization that there is still something on the face of Mother Earth that is unstoppable by the Homo sapiens.

It is just a divergence. May be, who knows..?? If it’s our birth into a better world. Or can we actually consider this as the world of only those who are alive? How mighty could be their strength when compared to those of the living ones?

Man has everything. He has conquered everything above and below the sun. He has cracked unanswered questions of murders happened 3000 years ago. He started to remodel the face of mother earth. But the masterpiece of the Last Who... remains a monopoly - Death.

There is no discovery that can stop him. A brilliant masterpiece indeed. I don’t know if anyone can agree with me. I also won’t demand that. Most of us imagine him as something caused due to evil doing on earth. Something that comes in the night’s darkness to steal life. I exactly don’t know when I started. But, I liked to give Him different attire. Just think like how I’m going to say. I’m sure you will also be fearless. No one has seen him, no one has touched him, you can’t predict his arrival but everyone knows him. Perhaps pretty well. Like a real hero. The final unexpected guest of our life. Can come in any form. I feel him as a hero. The final form a hero.

It is a great phenomenon. You can’t call it annihilation. It is just a separation. I have heard many atheists orating. There is nothing called soul, it’s just a superstitious idiocy and so on. But, let me ask. Is there any markable difference between one who is dead man and one who is alive? An energy is there, which when lost we call him dead. For instance, this world calls me Varun only until I have the ability to breathe. When that energy is taken out of my body, it’s just a mass of flesh, blood and bones. Then the name becomes Dead Body. They ask, is the body cremated? No one will ask is Varun cremated. We all have this awareness in an unknown corner of our subconscious state of mind. You can’t call it a thing or substance because it’s a form of energy. For those energy to prevail on earth it is given a body and a name...like all the other forms of energy is given a name, the energy within us...no, the real we, are called SOUL.

Souls Exists?

We all fear that which we cannot understand. The tales of spirits have flowing down from generation to generation, as haunting and unknown creatures lurking in the dark. Today we like to think we are more intelligent than that, and to believe in spirits is nonsense and crazy talk! Do spirits exist? Is there any proof? There is another question, is there any proof that spirits DO NOT exist?

If we want to discuss this on a scientific and rational basis then we should think about what Einstein said when he spoke of human beings and the process of life and Death.

Einstein observed that human beings are made up of energy, and this energy is constantly moving. That which we may think of as solid matter is, in reality not solid at all! Between every molecule is energy, moving, even if we cannot see it. Everything is moving at speeds accelerated beyond what the eyes can see, energy is constant.

Now if we all comprehend that, then we must agree that since energy does not stop, than even after the Death of the body, that same energy is still in existence. It does not need any proof as it is self-evident. Through a process of Self-enquiry one comes to understand its nature. This process is one of negating all objective concepts and to continually ask oneself "who am I?" Am I the body? The senses? The thoughts? Etc, once all objectivity has ceased what remains is pure subjective Self — that is Soul.

What some may call a spirit others may call energy force, and so, it is all the words you use. No one stops to think. See how beautiful the concept is.

There is nothing to fear in it. Only the dead body can pass negative energy. When the soul was there in that body it could have been your favorite person. When it’s gone you fear the body. Which clearly states that what was within was the positive form. It is a proved science. But nobody wants to believe it.

After all this writing I can hear the ‘energy’ in me making a petite odd prayer... “Oh God!! ...” No, I'm not saying it. Let there be something on tenterhooks. In a Shyamaprasad style of storytelling, I'm leaving it to you...

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…