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.

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.

Influence

“Influence” is a sort of motivational waves emitted from a person, speech, word, thought, incident, act or any other action or reaction, question or answer that penetrates to a person which then drives him for a task or an action depending on the intensity of the wave that his brain cells absorbed. This is exactly what I felt of this very word of the English language. Influence is never an imitation. It is only our version of rendering whatever we felt good when someone else executed it clinically.

To where my thoughts lead me to, Influence is the most pertinent representative for Spontaneity. It can hit you several times in a lifetime. Or even one can be his own influence. I have material facts that statement too.

Like for every kid, my father was the first one to influence me. The way he dressed, his LP shirts, his Ray-ban aviator, his driving actions, the way he pops open the green Heineken can and the slight smile that sprouts on his face as pours the beer to a glass, the way he say “right” at the end of a phone conversation were some of the various actions and conduct that was arrested deep in my mind as a kid. Even after 16 long years of his demise, when sometimes Amma comments some of my walking, standing, sitting or talking as similar to that of my father’s, I would arrogantly boast like the protagonist rendering a Renji Panicker script “That’s genesis…and that’s pedigree” adding wit to the conversation with a wink.

As I drove on the highway of life there was even more fuel stations that fueled me with some extra efficient fuel. Until my entry to the 11^th grade in school, frankly speaking, I’m not able to recollect anything or anyone that ruled my heart or fueled my mind other than Adolf Hitler. My friends called me crazy for that. That was the time when ‘hitleraliasvarun@gmail.com’ came into being. For, when they all were screaming about Hrithik Roshan and Abhishek Bachan, me and Hitler were moreover a funny combination. I never complained. Then in the 11^th and the 12^th grade it was Jacob Sir who played a prominent role of the motivational wave’s emitter as I said in the beginning.

From then until now, there were several other people, words and factors that influenced me, making me strong enough to ride faster. One among that were the words of the former Indian President Mr. A.P.J Abdul Kalam; “As a son of God, you are greater than anything that can happen to you” which is still my Gtalk status message. Facebook wasn’t this popular those days. It was an Orkut era those days. It was Divyachechy’s and Titiksha’s(are they my best friends..?? I don’t know that. But they are my sisters…from different mothers) testimony for me in my Orkut profile that set out a spark of self revelation within me and my soul. I was literally “self-influenced” there. They pointed out to me my qualities, which I haven’t noticed at all. It was a fact that I was recognizing me better as I read that.

I don’t argue that only humans can be an influencing force. Even Souls, spirits and believes can.

But in the twists and turns happening in this ocean, there used to be some tides that misguide me. There arises my iron lady, my spirit, my Amma. She is the only one who can blow the spark in me to a forest fire which strengthens me to swim against any tide, to drive through any tough off road tracks of life.

Apart from all these, it used to give me immense pleasure when I realized that I too have influenced some of them around me. This was understood when I hear them all adding some common words when they express their gratitude…they say “It was ‘only’ because of you….thank you dear”. Thank God!! Because it’s a matter of immense satisfaction to know that I’m considered as a good person at least for some people. Not everyone may understand that. But still I feel myself alive when I find at least when one in one thousand realizes that.

During our school days and after that for the various courses joined, there used to be lots of talks on self-confidence, on how to win and so on. Is self-confidence something which can be developed by just a speech? I never believed in that kind of ‘Instant Motivation’. I don’t believe that those powerful words could protract its existence in the audience for much long. Those are just a short-lived influence, motivation or thoughts that which fail to survive in the psyche of the audience as they move out of that hall. It’s ridiculous that people can also live a 5-star life marketing Motivation and Influence.

True Influence never fades. It is a spark that brightens with every breath u takes in.

This is what Influence is FOR ME..!!!!!

Thank you Facebook.

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you God...!!!

Thank you FB…!!!

A Movie Review & The Thrissur Slang.

Languages…what to write about the hundreds or may be thousands of known and unknown, discovered and undiscovered, observed and unobserved languages on earth that all the beings – including humans, the seasons, the mountains, the oceans have.

Yesterday, for the 5^th time I saw that movie again. “Pranchiyettan and the Saint” – A complete Thrissur movie… Its yet another point added to the “Keep-Away-From-Mind” list when I’m away from Thrissur, preventing me from feeling nostalgic...or rather homesick.

Unlike in Thoovanathumbikal, there isn’t much of the outdoors shot in this flick that pulls me back. But, the typical Thrissur slang to which I’m literally addicted is used throughout the film. People of Thrissur are popular for their wits. Rather they are popular for the pinch of wit and a mass simplicity they add even while they are in an important conversation. Wits don’t mean that they crack out jokes every now and then. But it is the essence of this dialect that proclaims the people of Thrissur to be witty in whichever group they mix up.

Here’s some light to the slang… J

As far as I have learned, the “Thrissur Slang” is a dialect that keeps developing every passing day. There are words and phrases added to this dialect almost every day. Combining two or three words swallowing some joining-aid alphabets mixed with the use of metaphors for each and every incidence and all coming out in the trademark tune of the Thrissur Slang. That is the signature that every subjects of His Highness King Shakthan’s land bears on his/her mother tongue.

Voices

I would always love the voices, sounds and all those waves of energy which is meant for our ears to obtain and that makes a smooth and mild curve of smile bearing the feel of relaxation, admiration and happiness. The first voice of that kind is that of my Amma's. The voice which always fuels me with energy and courage. The first voice of any child's life.

There’s is nothing much on the face of our planet or among the stars that can bring out the elf in me when the situations and circumstances raise its hood towards me from all directions. I would rather like to call it my life more than just a voice. 

Rather than the word "sound" I would like to address those waves as "voice" whether its from the man, machine or even if its from thin air. And some of those voices are like....

The voice of Dr. K.J.Yesudas and K S. Chitra, the ace Indian playback singers, the voice that my 350cc Royal Enfield Bullet emits from his cast iron heart, the voice of my Sir are some among those voices which bears the capacity to either hold my breath or my attention at least for a second. It’s hard to just explain the kind of affection that I have for each of these voices. It can only be said that it’s a mixture of love, craze, adoration and admiration.

I feel it to be my luck to hear those voices again and again and again even if it's for the several millionth time I’m hearing it. I often used to be called a mad guy for this reason. Because while in the midst of a serious conversation where each one in the gang shares a portion of their contribution I may just simply drift from the scene mentally, when I hear the DHUP DHUP of a Bullet or the voice of Yesudas that floats with a tune in the atmosphere surrounding me. It used to be the DHUP DHUP of a Bullet that used to immerse me in most of the cases.

Similarly there was a voice. The one which I think is the most macho among all the voices I’ve heard. It was the voice of Optimus Prime in the movie Transformers. Though, just a click away I always have had an option and chance to know about the person who owns that voice. But, for an unknown reason, unbelievably I didn’t get to do that. But each time when I watch the trailers or the various flicks and scenes of this movie I used to wonder who could that be. But never did I bother to surf the internet to know who this guy was.

But today, I felt to know about this person. Peter Cullen. He is the man who speaks for Optimus Prime. And the one who owns the manliest voice which I have so far heard. It was the way he delivered the closing monologue of the film that impressed me. I’m forced to say that the film was beautifully signed in the end by Michael Bay and Steven Spielberg using his voice. It was marvelous. The beautiful words, the strong voice and the way it was delivered tantalizingly. I just loved it.

Even if I say all these voice does not mean anything and everything, Voice is a Decoration. It is a decoration only for a well pronounced language.

Here's a clip in which Peter Cullen speaks for Optimus Prime. 

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…..

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…!!!

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…