This time it is different. Shades of nostalgia, highly variable, clogged with emotions are running high and frantically.
It is like clouds. Changing colour, shape and mobility. Wanting to cry aloud, cry uninterrupted like a child. Wanting to revisit the past with no burden of future lurching over me. Wanting to be with them, there. It is certainly different this time around.
May be short but sweet duration of togetherness have left its trail in me. May be the longevity of the inevitable separation is harassing me. May be the new occasions and platform of happiness is squeezing me. Cannot pull out one single thing from this bizarre jigso. But this time around nostalgia is not that sweet as I would usually claim it to be. It is distressing, sometimes saddening.
Ya, this time it is different. May be time with disperse this clouds. May be sunshine will soon unveil my vision. But the love in these clouds will certainly rain on me hoping to raise a seedling deeply embedded. It will rise tall as the symbol of my longing, my hope for the next tryst with my past.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Monday, July 28, 2008
North Country
She slapped right on my face, I felt, as every male would if he came across this amazingly true and painful story of her.
Jossey Aimes – She had suffered everything a woman could have in this blatantly male dominated society. She was continuously ridiculed even though under the curtains as one having sexually promiscuous behaviour. She was avoided by her father for the insult and agony she brought to the family as a teenage mother. She was beaten up regularly by her rage bubbling husband and when she left him, was held responsible for it. With great resilience when she tried to live further for her two children, working in the ‘mine’ she was dumped with few other fellow women into a hell of hostile male co-workers. In the court when she decided to challenge this harassment at work place, her every wound was opened and scratched again in front of the whole world which could only but sympathise. Finally her agony was completed when she revealed her long held truth- she was brutally raped by her class teacher rendering her pregnant in the tender age which started her amazingly painful journey-her life.
“North country”, a well made film based on a true incident in US in the 1980s, pierces straight into the viewer’s heart due to the sheer power and truthfulness of the subject it chose. In general it depicts the sexual discrimination deeply rooted in our societies while specifically dealing in the context of occupation. It is shocking that such discrimination is present in those scales even in the so called progressive societies as that of USA. Self pondering can make us understand that sexual discrimination is evident in our day to day life in both subtle and obvious proportions which is usually accepted as “one that happens and goes on”.
In between this distressing list of events unfolding in the film there are streaks of goodness all over which makes us filled which joy of being human, with the necessary optimism to look at a better future. The love she gets from her children, the support of some of her friends and the lawyer, and finally of her parents was deeply moving, giving the story a well needed positivity shade.
As a human being we are bound to think deeply upon this issue and first ready our mind for a paradigm shift from the male dominated one we have now. But with the women’s reservation bill stuck in the Indian Parliament for over a decade, when even many of the most anti-people laws are being passed in the house by hook and crook, one thing is for sure. For this to end there is a pretty long road to travel. But the journey will be certainly smoothened with such appreciable efforts like the film ‘North Country’ which is an eye opener to every male chauvinist including this author.
Jossey Aimes – She had suffered everything a woman could have in this blatantly male dominated society. She was continuously ridiculed even though under the curtains as one having sexually promiscuous behaviour. She was avoided by her father for the insult and agony she brought to the family as a teenage mother. She was beaten up regularly by her rage bubbling husband and when she left him, was held responsible for it. With great resilience when she tried to live further for her two children, working in the ‘mine’ she was dumped with few other fellow women into a hell of hostile male co-workers. In the court when she decided to challenge this harassment at work place, her every wound was opened and scratched again in front of the whole world which could only but sympathise. Finally her agony was completed when she revealed her long held truth- she was brutally raped by her class teacher rendering her pregnant in the tender age which started her amazingly painful journey-her life.
“North country”, a well made film based on a true incident in US in the 1980s, pierces straight into the viewer’s heart due to the sheer power and truthfulness of the subject it chose. In general it depicts the sexual discrimination deeply rooted in our societies while specifically dealing in the context of occupation. It is shocking that such discrimination is present in those scales even in the so called progressive societies as that of USA. Self pondering can make us understand that sexual discrimination is evident in our day to day life in both subtle and obvious proportions which is usually accepted as “one that happens and goes on”.
In between this distressing list of events unfolding in the film there are streaks of goodness all over which makes us filled which joy of being human, with the necessary optimism to look at a better future. The love she gets from her children, the support of some of her friends and the lawyer, and finally of her parents was deeply moving, giving the story a well needed positivity shade.
As a human being we are bound to think deeply upon this issue and first ready our mind for a paradigm shift from the male dominated one we have now. But with the women’s reservation bill stuck in the Indian Parliament for over a decade, when even many of the most anti-people laws are being passed in the house by hook and crook, one thing is for sure. For this to end there is a pretty long road to travel. But the journey will be certainly smoothened with such appreciable efforts like the film ‘North Country’ which is an eye opener to every male chauvinist including this author.
Friday, May 16, 2008
The Shade
The boy was aimlessly starring at the leaves which were giggling and whispering amidst the naughty currents of wind. He slightly shifted his head so as to dodge the sunlight from falling directly into his eyes. Small grasses which were still hiding their moisture crushed beneath him as he lay there under the comfort of the shade the cashew nut tree was providing.
The school has closed for the summer vacation and after the exams these much awaited holidays were a blissful period. He and his younger brother always had much fun with their various engagements. Away from the books, they would parade over the long boundary wall around their home during the shady evenings. They would trek through the slippery slopes under the shades of ‘kattadi’ trees and collect its hard and spiky seeds. They would fight ferociously among themselves as great warriors with the ‘stick’ sword and delude of the grandiosity they would have if were born in an earlier time. Every summer vacation has something new to adore and ponder with.
The boy always liked the trees, especially the cashew nut tree as it was easy to climb upon. He would sit on its branches for hours and day dream in epic proportions. That day he had decided to lay beneath the shades of the tree. Sun was at its offensive but he was safe and comfortable under the care of his ‘friend’. His brother had preferred the comfortable bed inside the house for the afternoon nap. As always the boy took his break into the calmness and solitude of the trees outside, afternoon sleep never being his thing.
Between those detached moments he heard the digging sound nearby. Anandettan, the worker has started his afternoon round of work. He was digging small pits to plant the coconut seedlings in the extreme corner of the plot. Boy curiously rose and hopped through the shades of the trees to the digging site. Away from the shades now the sun was taking its revenge on the boy. He loosened his buttons and hung the collar of his little shirt over his head.
Anandettan was digging the second pit now. His black muscular body was drenched in sweat. The boy squatted near the margin of the pit and watched the powerful iron digger hitting hard over the reddish soil. He watched how the clumps of mud were loosened from its base with each stroke and how it scattered into small pieces. Anandettan watched the boy with a smile and queried-- " You didn't go to sleep...?"
The boy nodded in negation. Sun was still trying to reach the tender face of the boy which he had cleverly hid under his loosened shirt.
" Why don't you bring me a cup of water dear...... its quite hot out here. Isn’t it?"
Boy ran and came back in a hurry with the cup of water as he didn't want to miss any of the action.
" Anandetta... why are you digging these pits...?" He asked as he took his position again close to the margins of the pit.
" Dear one... We will plant those coconut plantings we have here... they will grow and give you good 'elaneeru'( tender coconut)".
The action was continuing with mud and rock crumbling into small bits, power stroke and gracious touch alternating to shape the perfectly square pit. Sweat was flowing from the burned and tired forehead of the worker. But his calloused hands were powerfully striking the ground with the heavy weapon persistently without any signs of tiredness.
" Go inside the house , son..... Its very hot out here. Sun will burn your beautiful face..." -said the worker with utmost love.
" Are you not feeling the heat...Anandetta..???" The boy retorted as he further covered his head with the collar of his shirt.
" No my dear... This sun can do no harm to me..."
The boy frowned in disbelief.
" I have a boy like you at home and the joy he will have every evening when I go to him with a pair of toffee shades me from this wretched sun..." Worker uttered, smile still cornering his lips.
The boy couldn't quite understand the tenderness in the words of the worker, but was anyway happy as he remembered the chocolate that his father had promised to bring him that day evening.
.............................................................................
The school has closed for the summer vacation and after the exams these much awaited holidays were a blissful period. He and his younger brother always had much fun with their various engagements. Away from the books, they would parade over the long boundary wall around their home during the shady evenings. They would trek through the slippery slopes under the shades of ‘kattadi’ trees and collect its hard and spiky seeds. They would fight ferociously among themselves as great warriors with the ‘stick’ sword and delude of the grandiosity they would have if were born in an earlier time. Every summer vacation has something new to adore and ponder with.
The boy always liked the trees, especially the cashew nut tree as it was easy to climb upon. He would sit on its branches for hours and day dream in epic proportions. That day he had decided to lay beneath the shades of the tree. Sun was at its offensive but he was safe and comfortable under the care of his ‘friend’. His brother had preferred the comfortable bed inside the house for the afternoon nap. As always the boy took his break into the calmness and solitude of the trees outside, afternoon sleep never being his thing.
Between those detached moments he heard the digging sound nearby. Anandettan, the worker has started his afternoon round of work. He was digging small pits to plant the coconut seedlings in the extreme corner of the plot. Boy curiously rose and hopped through the shades of the trees to the digging site. Away from the shades now the sun was taking its revenge on the boy. He loosened his buttons and hung the collar of his little shirt over his head.
Anandettan was digging the second pit now. His black muscular body was drenched in sweat. The boy squatted near the margin of the pit and watched the powerful iron digger hitting hard over the reddish soil. He watched how the clumps of mud were loosened from its base with each stroke and how it scattered into small pieces. Anandettan watched the boy with a smile and queried-- " You didn't go to sleep...?"
The boy nodded in negation. Sun was still trying to reach the tender face of the boy which he had cleverly hid under his loosened shirt.
" Why don't you bring me a cup of water dear...... its quite hot out here. Isn’t it?"
Boy ran and came back in a hurry with the cup of water as he didn't want to miss any of the action.
" Anandetta... why are you digging these pits...?" He asked as he took his position again close to the margins of the pit.
" Dear one... We will plant those coconut plantings we have here... they will grow and give you good 'elaneeru'( tender coconut)".
The action was continuing with mud and rock crumbling into small bits, power stroke and gracious touch alternating to shape the perfectly square pit. Sweat was flowing from the burned and tired forehead of the worker. But his calloused hands were powerfully striking the ground with the heavy weapon persistently without any signs of tiredness.
" Go inside the house , son..... Its very hot out here. Sun will burn your beautiful face..." -said the worker with utmost love.
" Are you not feeling the heat...Anandetta..???" The boy retorted as he further covered his head with the collar of his shirt.
" No my dear... This sun can do no harm to me..."
The boy frowned in disbelief.
" I have a boy like you at home and the joy he will have every evening when I go to him with a pair of toffee shades me from this wretched sun..." Worker uttered, smile still cornering his lips.
The boy couldn't quite understand the tenderness in the words of the worker, but was anyway happy as he remembered the chocolate that his father had promised to bring him that day evening.
.............................................................................
Friday, May 2, 2008
Nuances
Despair:
I rushed through the long corridor of the hospital, arousing from initial lethargy, sleep still trickling in my eyes.
"Bed no. 32 is serious Sir." -was the call of the ward boy who woke me up in the duty room. ‘Serious’ in this odd hour of night, only few hours to dawn was evidently pointer of something.
Entering the ward room many of the patients and their attendants were asleep while the neighbourhood of bed no. 32 was alert and waiting for the doctor to come.
Wife of the patient looked at me anxiously between her spurts of prayers. I couldn’t read the emotions in her eyes, and didn't want to. I looked at the motionless body. It lay cold with a blatant story to tell. I heard the silence of the death deeply buried in his chest, felt the emptiness of the pulse in his arms and neck, starred at the absence of shine in his open eyes.
I uttered the official declaration of the obvious truth to the attendants, cold and raw as the night it was. The staccato prayer of the lady broke away. She knew already the fact I suppose, but was harbouring the hope of a miracle. She threw herself to my feet and screamed --
"Don't tell that Sir, Do something,..... We have two little kids..."
Chills ran into my spine as I freed myself from her hold and went on to do the official works now bestowed upon me. The cry of despair rose as the women's voice scattered behind.
.................................................................................
Love:
I could have recognised his swollen face anywhere. There he lies in the middle of other patients, deeply disoriented. I looked around for his brother. Yes, he was right there holding the arm of his younger one smiling at me bleakly.
"We have come again Sir..." he said. I acknowledged him with a desperate smile.
Only a week before he was discharged from our ward after a long two months hospitalisation— Liver failure with encephalopathy. Alcohol has eaten up his liver leaving him in the land of uncertainty slowly and steadily leading him in the day of doom. But never did the fact of the untreatability made his brother lose hope. Love that streamed between the two was contagious and sometimes made me believe of the impossible. The stability attained finally didn’t last long.
Back he is, in this ward, thoroughly disoriented, swollen and bleeding. The effect of the initial medication had improved him a bit when I went to examine him. He was crying firmly holding his brother’s hand , the only face he couldn’t forget even in his disoriented self.
" You will be alright my dear." His brother reassured him. " Look who has come... Did you recognize?.... Its our lambu (tall) doctor....... Did you recognize?"
The blank eyes searched for me .He gazed at me for a while and shook his head.
" Save me !" He pleaded with umpteen sadness.
"You are doing well. You are going to be alright." I proclaimed with utmost empathy.
He gripped his brother’s hand more firmly who was consoling him with the non ending love they had. As I moved to the next patient I realised once again that love was contagious.
................................................................................
Negligence:
She was old and crippled.
With an uncared fracture of hip and severe bed sore all over the body, the only word that suited to describe her—neglected. " Women and old"—the perfect recipe for negligence as she was.
And now they wanted to take her away.
"Then why the hell did you bring her here?........."
An unusual voice of rage broke from me in between the emotionless working of Emergency department.
The attendants, thoroughly humble, uttered the difficulties they have to face if they get her admitted there.
Soon the environment came back to normal. The practicality came into picture. Empathy dissolved into the routine. But long after they had left, the abominable smell of her bedsore remained in the emergency room as if leaving back the trail of truth behind.
Nuances of life continue – negligence being one of them.
...............................................................................
I rushed through the long corridor of the hospital, arousing from initial lethargy, sleep still trickling in my eyes.
"Bed no. 32 is serious Sir." -was the call of the ward boy who woke me up in the duty room. ‘Serious’ in this odd hour of night, only few hours to dawn was evidently pointer of something.
Entering the ward room many of the patients and their attendants were asleep while the neighbourhood of bed no. 32 was alert and waiting for the doctor to come.
Wife of the patient looked at me anxiously between her spurts of prayers. I couldn’t read the emotions in her eyes, and didn't want to. I looked at the motionless body. It lay cold with a blatant story to tell. I heard the silence of the death deeply buried in his chest, felt the emptiness of the pulse in his arms and neck, starred at the absence of shine in his open eyes.
I uttered the official declaration of the obvious truth to the attendants, cold and raw as the night it was. The staccato prayer of the lady broke away. She knew already the fact I suppose, but was harbouring the hope of a miracle. She threw herself to my feet and screamed --
"Don't tell that Sir, Do something,..... We have two little kids..."
Chills ran into my spine as I freed myself from her hold and went on to do the official works now bestowed upon me. The cry of despair rose as the women's voice scattered behind.
.................................................................................
Love:
I could have recognised his swollen face anywhere. There he lies in the middle of other patients, deeply disoriented. I looked around for his brother. Yes, he was right there holding the arm of his younger one smiling at me bleakly.
"We have come again Sir..." he said. I acknowledged him with a desperate smile.
Only a week before he was discharged from our ward after a long two months hospitalisation— Liver failure with encephalopathy. Alcohol has eaten up his liver leaving him in the land of uncertainty slowly and steadily leading him in the day of doom. But never did the fact of the untreatability made his brother lose hope. Love that streamed between the two was contagious and sometimes made me believe of the impossible. The stability attained finally didn’t last long.
Back he is, in this ward, thoroughly disoriented, swollen and bleeding. The effect of the initial medication had improved him a bit when I went to examine him. He was crying firmly holding his brother’s hand , the only face he couldn’t forget even in his disoriented self.
" You will be alright my dear." His brother reassured him. " Look who has come... Did you recognize?.... Its our lambu (tall) doctor....... Did you recognize?"
The blank eyes searched for me .He gazed at me for a while and shook his head.
" Save me !" He pleaded with umpteen sadness.
"You are doing well. You are going to be alright." I proclaimed with utmost empathy.
He gripped his brother’s hand more firmly who was consoling him with the non ending love they had. As I moved to the next patient I realised once again that love was contagious.
................................................................................
Negligence:
She was old and crippled.
With an uncared fracture of hip and severe bed sore all over the body, the only word that suited to describe her—neglected. " Women and old"—the perfect recipe for negligence as she was.
And now they wanted to take her away.
"Then why the hell did you bring her here?........."
An unusual voice of rage broke from me in between the emotionless working of Emergency department.
The attendants, thoroughly humble, uttered the difficulties they have to face if they get her admitted there.
Soon the environment came back to normal. The practicality came into picture. Empathy dissolved into the routine. But long after they had left, the abominable smell of her bedsore remained in the emergency room as if leaving back the trail of truth behind.
Nuances of life continue – negligence being one of them.
...............................................................................
Thursday, April 24, 2008
ഒരു പിന്കുറിപ്പ്
ഇതു വിഷാദത്തിന് ചാറ്റല്മഴ
മനസേ നീ അതില് കുതിര്ന്നുണരൂ
ഇതു നൈരാശ്യത്തിന് കനല്പാത
മനസേ നീ അതില് എരിഞ്ഞമരൂ
ഇനി പുഷ്പങ്ങളില്ല
മൊട്ടുകളെന്നേ മുരടിച്ചു പോയ്
ഇനി നീര്ചാലുകളില്ല
ഉറവകളെന്നേ വരണ്ടുണങ്ങി.
ഗോര്ക്കി തന് വാക്കുകള്--
"സൌന്ദര്യത്തിന് ജനനി,
സ്ത്രീയോട് പുരുഷനുള്ള പ്രണയം."
ഇനി സൌന്ദര്യമില്ല,
പ്രണയമെന്നേ കടംകഥയായ്.
ഇവിടെ കരിഞ്ഞുണങ്ങിയ ഹൃദയം
നിശ്വാസത്തിനായ് പിടയുമ്പോള്
പനിനീര്ത്തുള്ളിയും
എരിയും ആസിഡ് കണിക.
ചിറകറ്റ ഒരൊറ്റ മൈന തന്
ഇടറിയ സീല്ക്കാരം മാത്രമായ് ബാക്കി.
വയ്യ ! ഇനി വസന്തത്തിന്
ഉന്മാദം പ്രതീക്ഷിക്കുവാന് വയ്യ.
മൂഢസ്വര്ഗ്ഗത്തിന് ത്രിശങ്കുവായിടാന് വയ്യ.
തിരക്കിന് ചുടുവെയിലില് നിന്നും
ഏകാന്തതയുടെ ഇളം തണുപ്പു വേണം
ശബ്ദങ്ങളുടെ ചടുലനൃത്തങ്ങളില് നിന്നും
നിശബ്ദതയുടെ കുളിര്നാദം വേണം.
കവിതേ ! വിഷാദത്തിന് കണ്ണീര്ക്കണങ്ങളും
പരാജയത്തിന് മുള്മുനകളും
നിനക്കായ് ഞാന് സമര്പ്പിച്ചിടാം
എനിക്കായ് അകാശത്തിന് വിശാലതയും
കടലിന് അഗാധതയും കടം തരൂ.
അവയിലല്പ്പം ചരിച്ചു ഞാന് മടങ്ങിടാം
എന് മുള്ക്കിരീടങ്ങള് തന് പുനര്ധാരണത്തിനായ്
Monday, March 24, 2008
23 march 1931
The yellowish light lit along the empty corridor gave away only bleak illumination into the room through those iron bars. But it didn’t matter much. He was voraciously going through the miniscule wordings of the book as if a hungry child eating his long awaited food.
"State and Revolution" by Vladimir Lenin. He had read lot about this revolutionist and his thinking. But reading this book is much more than that. It was like talking to the man himself.
"What a clarity in his thought." Bhagat sighed. He felt as if he will miss this knowledge most after this day, only second to his love- his country and fellowmen. For him it is just another day. A day of thoughts, a day of enlightenment and a day towards the social good. But whole nation was suffering from agonising pain as they saw the night lowering its curtain. Every inmate- political and non political together gazed at them with enormous love and sorrow. Even the stones in jail lay lustreless as if moaning into the darkness of the night.
Both Sukhi and Guru was lying in two corners of the room with their eyes shut. But Bhagat could feel that both of them are still awake deeply buried in their thoughts. In hours they together will face their destiny. A destiny much awaited. A destiny which thousands of young fellow men are craving to reach. To die as a martyr for the beloved motherland.
Outside the jail room silence ruled the night. Bhagat was sure that very few could sleep tonight in this jail. But as always, silence ruled the night. Intermittent footsteps and low whispering sounds did nothing to avert his attention from his newly found friend-Lenin.
He was always patriotic. It ran in the family. But the thing that shook his heart and soul was that massacre. He could clearly remember the blood stains, its noxious smell that stayed in the park for weeks and still thumbing in his head. It made him the fighter he is today. Soon came the days of confusion, anger and frustration. Days went by, reminding him of his destiny. Time played games with him. And here he is, face to face with his destiny. But that now he is not the lad, angry and frustrated, weeping loud at his helplessness. He has matured as a revolutionary. Now his vision is full of hope and clarity. He has foreseen the redemption of his people in an India which transforms itself into a socialist republic. May be the time is not ripe till now. But he was sure of its ultimate success.
The jailer and the guard were marching through the corridor with their heavy legs. Their minds were as gloomy as the starless sky outside. Nobody had a little desire of the task they are up to today. Those three lads were little adamant but never on whole earth did they deserve such a punishment. As they approached that particular cell room they saw one of them sitting close to the iron bars reading a book. And the other two were sitting upright behind him as if eagerly awaiting their arrival. The one with book was Bhagat, most vocal and appealing of the three.
" What is the book, lad? Something religious? " Queried a guard.
"Sought of !" Young man raised his head from the book with a smile and soon buried it back.
"I am sorry lad. Your time is up. You must get up now." told the jailer, sympathy clearly breaking his strong voice.
Bhagat singh hurried through the last paragraph of the book and smiled to his friends with relief
" Its just one revolutionary meeting the other. "
He told as he left the cell room along with his friends into the roaring slogans that made the jail erupt---
" Inquilab Zindabad"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"The aim of life is no more to control mind, but to develop it harmoniously, not to achieve salvation hereafter, but to make the best use of it here below, and not to realize truth, beauty and good only in contemplation, but also in the actual experience of daily life ; social progress depends not upon the ennoblement of the few but on the enrichment of the many; and spiritual democracy or universal brotherhood can be achieved only when there is an equality of opportunity in the social, political and industrial life"….. Bhagat Singh
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Me and Her
Kept starring upon her graceful eyes
Those, like ocean, beneath lay umpteen prize
Kept reading her voiceless signs
Those, like stars, elude us by shining nice
Ah! Dying for those dimple cheeks
Would kiss it as if a blooming rose
Oh! Heaven that awesome smile
Me diving into sweet porridge rice
Come along my beautiful heart
Hand in hand we'll walk those tracks
Where love has sown those seeds so thick
That fragrant flower grew plenty aside
Alas, apart from those shimmering dreams
With sorrow, I gaze into those twinkling eyes
To make sure my heart knows just it is-
A lifeless picture on my laptop screen.
Those, like ocean, beneath lay umpteen prize
Kept reading her voiceless signs
Those, like stars, elude us by shining nice
Ah! Dying for those dimple cheeks
Would kiss it as if a blooming rose
Oh! Heaven that awesome smile
Me diving into sweet porridge rice
Come along my beautiful heart
Hand in hand we'll walk those tracks
Where love has sown those seeds so thick
That fragrant flower grew plenty aside
Alas, apart from those shimmering dreams
With sorrow, I gaze into those twinkling eyes
To make sure my heart knows just it is-
A lifeless picture on my laptop screen.
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