The Man

Child is the father of man.
Woman is the mother.
Where does that leave him, the man??

Kids...

Someone asked me why I loved kids so much... Whats so special about them??

I couldn't, at the time, give them a proper answer... But then, how could anyone... Its something which can only be felt, and never be explained...

A contradiction??

I hate compromises when they tend to break my neck.... but generally, I'm ready for them...

But do I contradict myself when I say so?....

Tears...

He licked at the pearls that rolled down the corners of her eyes...They tasted of salt...

Woman. The mother of man.

(Read this somewhere, and found it too hard 'not' to publish it here...)

The woman is the mother...
However great and powerful may the man be, he can never be the mother... So woman should be respected...

Even in a relation, the pleasure is always mutual... but the pain that follows is not... which makes it just why she should be respected....

The betrayal

To him life wasn't that mysterious... It was simple... It reflected to him the story of a young man who found the mother of his child in the arms of another man... When confronted, it shocked him for once... But then he gathered himself up and left his past right there... And walked into the life ahead...

Ani. My little brother...

Ani, my little brother, looked at me seriously for once and said, ‘You are very lucky for me’.

Man, it made my day… Why, I can live my entire life hanging on to that one…

My guardian angel

‘Amma, are you listening…? You understood anything I said…?’
‘Off course monu, I’m listening…Go on… And then…?’‘Well, then… Tell me where was I?’
'Monu, go on… Its good to hear you talk…’

With an amazing consistency, this was how she responded every time I sat down to have a serious discussion (or, were they just monologues, since I was only one who spoke during our ‘conversations’) with her…

I was 15 then. And two years later, she died.

Surprisingly, I never really missed her much all these years… May be the longing echo that brought me the kind word, had something to do with it… Or, may be it didn't ...

Convoluted reality

A story sounds original as long as it is a story... As soon as it becomes original, it starts sounding like a story... You seem to believe a fictious fact and not a fact! How strange is that?!

A concept that we call love..

First we fell in love...
Then we fell out of love...
In between, though, no love was lost ...
Hell... so, when did we 'love'?

Game of love?

Its useless to possess the body when you are sure the soul isn't for you... Its like venting it out on a prostitute..

A flash back?

I felt cold and lonely...

A vague and misty vision of an uncertain future hovered about me then... Directions were marked clearly towards everywhere... But none of them seemed to take me anywhere...

Trader of dreams

I am a hawker selling dreams... would you like to trade with me??

Broken Dreams

Broken, failed dreams do look artistic, like a crumbled tissue paper smeared with shit...

The book called ‘Penmarric’...

The book called ‘Penmarric’, that I lost (irrecoverably, at that...) to a very dear friend of mine, familiarized me with quite a few nuances of normal life at a very tender age... My voice hadn't even cracked up properly...

The real human weaknesses (Or, abilities?!), so to say… Words (or, should we call them concepts?) like jealously, greed, back-biting, love affairs, seduction, adultery, illegitimacy, inheritance (a far cry from my father’s ideologies) struck right across my face...

Not that they meant much to me then, but at an age I wasn’t too prepared to handle it all came the realization they don’t exist only in books and movies, but are very much around us. Very much, indeed...!

A complete family

If we (my brother and I) loved our mother so much (enough to feel insecure after her death), it dint mean we loved our father any less... it was just that we loved her so much that we believed our family would only be complete with all the four of us together. Both of them, the parents and both of us, the brothers... Any less would make it incomplete...

The pimple

The pimple on the tip of my nose hurt ... whenever it itched, I scratched around it ...
Only I was too scared of breaking it...
Things were cracking up then... I guess...

Age matters??!

May be she is young...
Or may be she was...
Anyways, she is beautiful...

Apocalypse ... Now??

Since quite long I’ve been wondering about what exactly ‘Apocalypse’ means. But being very lazy, just to check the dictionary, I let it go…

Recently a friend of mine explained me what it means… Apocalypse: a prophetic revelation, esp. concerning a cataclysm in which the forces of good permanently triumph over the forces of evil. Or, any revelation or prophecy. Or, any universal or widespread destruction or disaster: the apocalypse of nuclear war.

But point isn’t its dictionary meaning. He taught me a history behind the concept ‘Apocalypse’, which would have never occurred to me had I tried the other way…

Monsoons in Cochin

Given the rainy season ... there couldn’t be a better topic than this at this point of time... Moreover, my brother too had a similar write up on this in his blog.…

Much like him, I too have begun to hate the monsoons in Cochin - even though we waste reams and reams of paper (hours before the computer - typing - in my case) writing adjectives to hard sell the concept of a romantic monsoon in Kerala to a visiting discerning tourist from abroad...

For a traveler visiting, may be for a short period of time, that too within the safe confinements of a resort or a hotel, it might seem amusing... but not for an average citizen who has to move around and work on a daily basis...

With the incessant, heavy rains inundating the city, water-logging the inner streets, and the main roads, uprooting trees, disrupting power supply for hours together, jamming telephone network, for the routine commuters, be it on the bus or the two wheelers or the four wheelers, often find it near impossible just to get around… getting to the next junction, so to say… besides you have to survive with that irritating dampness, all day long… Not to mention your work, coming to an absolute standstill…

And looking out of the window right now, I don’t find romance … but the upturned ‘underground’ water tank (victim of a raised water table)… and an uneasy thought haunts you … God, what about corporation water supply for another one week….

Forget the work pressure, forget the deadlines, and forget your client’s fury… When its raining in Cochin…its raining cats and dogs and ... God knows what else…!