2 days and 2 nights at Karunagappally, Kollam.

My friend, roommate and colleague from my previous company; all three being the same guy - Deepak; was all set to furnish his life to the next level. It was his engagement.

~ June 1^st

5:30 am, it was still dark. Wet roads and the dark sky, and it was too cold for life itself to feel alive. We started from our rented house at Ernakulam.

This was not the first time me staying in a company of an entirely different version of Keralites. Different version in the sense entirely different dialect, taste, orders etc. It was joyously different. I was literally enjoying though I had my usual weekend to-do list pending in my Thrissur. :)

The 6 over cricket match in the evening between his cousins with some close-to-real sledging and light moments was amazing. I was just a spectator, just to keep myself safe until the function is over the next day. Lessons learnt need to be applied when situation demands. Let that be another lesson.

~ June 2nd

In frame with the stars of the day. :)

The day!! I was also as tensed as Deepak was (But he seemed cool). Because I was the official photographer!!! I’m pretty damn sure I haven’t made it up to his expectation as it wasn’t my cup of tea by any means. But still he seems satisfied with those. May be he is being nice to me as always.

Like someone said, “Marriage is a day when two people think of their future and the rest think of food.” An engagement is nothing different. People seems like they were starving. And this was the only thing I found in Kollam, which I had seen in Thrissur, Kozhikode, Kasargode and Ernakulam. Like Srinivasan once told, “Story of humans is the same everywhere.”#Sandesham :)

With so many happy moments the function also moved smoothly. The gap granted by the monsoon mustn’t be forgotten when the credits starts rolling upwards.

Never did I feel like a guest. I was a part of it. Here ‘it’ being the family, function, fun and also the part-time umpiring for that 6 over match. Other must-mention characters are the two angels Janaki and Gouri (Deepak’s nieces). They make us feel ashamed pasting a smile on our face with their energy, when we sit tired. Kisses to both of them…

In a nutshell, at the expense of a weekend I got some real good people added to my FB friends list and to my ‘real’ friends list as well… :) Thank you all...

Congrats, Deepak and Aswathy.. God Bless..!!

Cap Go Meh

Cap Go Meh

Mervin

What a day!!! Mervin, my colleague, the local boy who was born and bought up in this small Equator city in the West of Kalimantan an island province of Indonesia, is the man of the day. He is the one who took me deeper into the relics of this city particularly about the Chinese tradition to which i was newly introduced.
It was yesterday night, while i was on voice chat with Amma my phone squeaked by Mervin's text which said that tomorrow is the opening ceremony of the Cap Go Meh. 

Cap Go Meh (pronounced as 'Chap Goh Meh') represents the 15th day and last day of the festive Chinese New Year for migrant ethnic communities of Chinese living outside China .Very colorful, very loud, lot of energy. at times i felt even the sun gained a hell lot of energy watching this and giving out some extra heat in return. Above all it was a vibrant feast for my canon too.

There were around 8 - 10 dragons and around 15-20 people to dance the dragon to on its way to chase the dragon ball. Like all festivals their presence of color, especially red, was spread all over.

Touched you!!!

Even after hours after the event the bang of the drums and the cheers of the crowd and the sound of strong footsteps of the dragon-dancers are still not able to escape from my ears. Even though not as much as my own Thrissur Pooram, Cap Go Meh also gave me a great time.

With a Dragon dancer

I do not agree to the statement someone made that festivals are petty superstition of the tribal era which is blindly conducted perhaps repeated in the present day. But I find the role of festivals from a different angle. Festivals are one among the various essentials in a society to sustain and its culture and tradition as generations moves on. Apart from all these something which I have experienced is the pride that I come from a village or city or state or province or country which is famous for a particular festival. I have boasted many times about my Thrissur Pooram with all the details known to me. I’m just proud of it…

Anyways it was a memorable day…Once again...Thanks to Mervin.

A diary entry of a ‘Shattered Me’….

1st July, 2011

2200hrs

Blinking eyes has become a fear for me for the past few days. Every time my eyes finds darkness there starts the slideshow of all that I’m trying to get rid of. May be the diabolic force in me is taking control over things these days. I may run out of the positive energy stuffed in me.

I’m afraid…am I becoming an Al Pacino in the movie Insomnia. A character who starts losing his focus and mental stability due to lack of a sound sleep…am I becoming someone like that? I doubt…I seriously do..

Being alone is not a fear for me. But being trapped and unable to get into and mend my own problems is a torture. I know I need to live it through. And in the end I’ll be the one standing tall, victorious… But in that course I will have loses, which is meant for this life alone. Sacrificing them all means I’m betraying myself…which then makes that look like a victory to the world alone. For me, I will the biggest loser I have ever come across.

Uncertainties…dilemma…all are part of the game. It’s not a fact that’s present in my personality. I have moved breaking the uncertainties. But this time…I don’t know what I’m thinking; doing or speaking is right or wrong. Moreover, being misunderstood is a mightier ache at heart.

May be its just because, like what I mentioned before, as I’m running out of my positive energy. Could be… But, I’m shattered…thoroughly… That’s all what I’m clear of at this point of time.

Let Time take control over the game…I’ll step aside until it’s time for the presentation ceremony…

3 hrs @ Dubai

I was landing on my birth place, Dubai, after 15 long years.

Seeing the reflection of the morning sun on the skyscrapers anyone could think that even Sun had to come down to Dubai to use a mirror. The metro train that came out from somewhere like a roller coaster gave the Dubai in me an image of an ever changing amusement park. Next entrance into my sight was made by the King of all skyscrapers – The Burj Kalifa, which stood firm on the soil of the Peal of the Gulf, brutally stabbing the clean blue sky.

With a slight smile and a deep sigh, I heard my own voice “Dubai has changed”.

Though I was just a transit passenger waiting 3 hours for my connection flight, the breeze that blew within my body made a flickering slideshow of memories in several repetitions. The fragrance of the Arab attar all over the place also added some life and color to the ambience to the slideshow of memories.

Was I happy at that time? I can’t answer that. There was a mixture of molten feelings that was bubbling. Dubai...she contains my childhood memories. There were moments that moisturized my eyes and also brought a wide smile. 

Dubai…This is where one half of my heart belongs. I can remain to be truly me, as I feel myself in my Thrissur. This is what I reckoned from those 3 hours.

And as my flight to Jakarta took off I thanked my company’s travel desk person who booked this weird route to fly to Jakarta from Cochin.And watching the fading Dubai beneath me, again that slight smile came to accompany the deep sigh when I heard my voice again “Picture abhi baaki hai mere dost…"

Mausams

This is a story that began with something like an admiration or astonishment towards a girl with a ponytail, who was 2 years senior to me. The only girl…no, the only student who used to run through the verandah during the morning assembly at school for collecting prizes. For whom I always thought that God could have given few more pairs of hands to hold more trophies and certificates.

One day it was announced in the assembly that this girl got some scholarship or something. All I understood was that she was going to Singapore.

Years later I happened to meet this thin and energetic girl on Facebook. Few months back, I came to know that she’s working on a feature film and named it Mausams. This was quite enthralling news for me. To see someone creating something that you have always been longing is so special. That was what Mausams for me.

Today was again special for me. Meeting Shilpa and Shivanu was the highlight and of course Mausams. A very cute movie handled with enough maturity. The department of Photography also was amazing with brilliant frames. Mausams - Awesomeness!!! Nothing else can I speak about this. Loved it!!

And as the credits rolled up, it was that morning assembly that blinked in my mind. There was a name that came frequently; Shilpa Krishnan Shukla.

KUDOS!!! To Shilpa, Shivanu and the entire crew.

Breathing Cricket....

Tension that drains blood away, heart beats as loud as it can be heard to the person next to me, blood cells racing as if the nitrous oxide system is turned on. This is not what I feel alone. This is a brief description of the mind-state undergoing by the entire population of 2 nations lying together on the world map….INDIA &  PAKISTAN.

Tomorrow, at Mohali cricket stadium, as the coin is flipped into the air, there begins a war. A war without spilling a drop of blood. The fans need assurances and reassurances that their team won’t disappoint them, tomorrow will be the most nerve wrecking day for the fans in both countries, defeat is not an option for either side, as nothing hurts more than losing to your traditional foe and nothing will be more joyous than knocking out your traditional foe out of the competition, perhaps the joy would be even more than lifting the trophy.

Its celebration all our in my country. Offices announcing either a holiday or arranging facilities for their employees to watch the match. The companies are forced to do at least this much in a country that considers cricket to be a religion and believes that GOD himself have come down to open batting for their team. Like always, this time again both the countries are going to have a couple of “stand-still” hours right from the moment the coin is tossed. There is unbelievable frenzy.

There was no other possible matchup in this tournament which could have elevated the excitement level of this tournament than a semi final clash between India and Pakistan.

And I hope that the live streaming goes uninterrupted tomorrow. Let the whole world reverberate with India, India!

A different view for the Memorial Day.

Let me establish this post with a SALUTE to those Heroes who have laid their life’s for their motherland.

Today is the 26^th of November, 2010. It was exactly two years ago Mumbai was struck by the terrorist attack. And the entire subcontinent today mourns the death of the Police officers and the NSG commandos. 

Right from childhood days of this kind used to inspire me a lot. Also there where war-movies of various languages used to keep my mind a lot inclined towards the souls who left earth for their motherland. But today, i was stuck upon by some quotes of Eishower. I must say that this threw a light to a different dimension of thought we can make to the angle of those war heroes.

Memorial Day honors the tragedy of those who died for their country. All over the nation, ceremonies take place at cemeteries of the fallen. Volunteers place flags on graves; taps is played; flags are furled; and stern-faced members of veterans' organizations attend in solemn rows in their caps and insignia.

It's not a time for cynicism. And yet, that's just what I feel. As a nation, our feelings are manipulated on what should be a day of sorrow and regret.

Let me be clear--we should justly honor the sacrifice of those who died in war. But the way we do it glorifies war to yet another generation. It deludes our youth into believing it's their duty to enlist in the next crusade to benefit politicians and the military-industrial complex that Eisenhower warned us about. The martial music and stirring speeches perpetuate the lie that the fallen "died for our freedom." They did not.

Did our soldiers die heroically? Often they did. But for the most part, they died uselessly.

War is a failure of diplomacy. Instead of flags and martial music, we should offer apologies to the dead for yet again failing to avert the catastrophe of war. Our vow to the dead should be to redouble our efforts to find peaceful ways of settling disputes. On this day we should mourn not just those who perished in war, but our repeated failure to move beyond the barbaric practice of officially killing strangers just because someone in power who stands to gain from war convinced us that it's in our best interest to do so.

The message of Memorial Day should be "Never again! We will not send yet another generation of youth to the killing fields."

***

Eisenhower on war:

"When people speak to you about a preventive war, you tell them to go and fight it. After my experience, I have come to hate war." (Press conference: 1953)

"I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its stupidity. War settles nothing." (Speech: Ottawa, Canada, January 10, 1946)

Dwight D. Eisenhower

34th President of the United States

(1953-1961)

Once again my prayer for all those who we lost and all those who lost. A salute to a nation that refuses to stay down when knocked down.....

A vote of thanks from an (Ex)Bhavanite.

Today, few hours back, my school the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan’s Vidya Mandir, Poochatty…won overall championship at the 17th Inter-Bhavans at Kannur, Kerala. I felt my adrenaline racing once again when I read the news on Usha Pisharody Teacher’s post on her Facebook.

Years passed…but still I’m a BVB product and nothing on earth can change that. Thanks a lot to FB also for which laid the platform to give a wide reach for a news of of various sorts…

And also my heartfelt CONGRATS to my dear ju-ju-juniors…you guys have done a brilliant leap indeed. Love you a lot my dears…..

EAST OR WEST BHAVANS IS THE BEST…!!!!

1 year @ iSmart (a diary entry)

20th July, 2010 :

Today, I completed the 1st year of employment in my life. This as a great honor. And feel so that I was able to  gather more in this one year alone than what was done in the previous 21 years of life as a student. Three hundred and sixty five days back, on this day, it was like joining a new school where there are only seniors. But now, being one among them gives me great pleasure at heart.

Thank you iSmart. Thank you to those very few people whom I consider as my teachers. And more than that thank you; my dear god, for special gems that you added into my best friends list in this span.

Thank you Softies.....Thank You.....

May 25, 2010

She was a beautiful young lady. She wasn't our relative. But, like few others, she too was an elder sister for me and Mol.

Her death..!! That was the big news that Amma had on our daily call. Amma herself wasn't yet revealed from the cold shiver of shock on hearing this.

Few warm drops rolled down my cheeks as I closed my eyes after hearing this. It could be my love for her that would have made those drops so warm. There was a hug that I owed to her and I can feel my spirit struggling to get out of me just to give her that tight hug with all my love.

Losing your loved ones is something beyond my ability to even believe. The immature child in me often places them living a peaceful and happy life somewhere far away. For me, she’s still there in Dubai…living cheerfully...chilling out…!! (in her own words). When the red status symbol against her name in my Google Talk chat-list doesn’t glow, I feel that her blackberry might be switched off and she’ll sign in soon….and ping me once she’s back online calling me “Chottuuu….”

There are some situations that life throws at you, where you behave just like how that 11-year-old kid did when he lost his Dad no matter how big you grow. Today, I feel so trapped in this hotel room in Jakarta. All I could do is to speak to all her relatives whose contacts I have on my phone.

My love to everyone in her family….my prayers too... 

They will stay strong!! Love you, Zafars!! 

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…..

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…!!!

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…!!!