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Letter to my Nephew

Dear Shyam, Someday, you will be big enough to read this and feel proud of the family you were born into. We are no nation builders, we have had no prime ministers or presidents in our family. For all that you know, centuries will pass before you will read about any of us in history books. But you know what, we have been just as much loved by the creator. Our temple gods have protected us all through the ages and watched over us through the ages. We have had our ups and downs, but we have lived on:-) I have tried to capture our origins up to about 8 preceding generations in the family tree. Ask your mother to share the link with you. You will agree with me, your mother is a very special woman. Stronger than steel, level headed, outgoing and loving. Also, I know no other person, living or dead, who could manage your father up to whatever degree she can. Every time I think of your mother, I am reminded of her grandmother, your great grand mother, Gauriamma. She was a special woman as wel

Return to Innocence

My earliest memories are of sitting on a jackfruit tree and eating the fruit. My youngest sister would be hollering down there asking for her fair share of the fruit. The tree belonged to a relative of mine who himself was waiting for this particular jackfruit to ripen a little more. We finished it off without getting caught!  When I was at college doing my English, there used to be panineer champa trees right next to the English department. Atleast twice a week, I used to be right on top of these trees, and there used to be an elaborate distribution network below. The fruits used to reach right up to the vice principal, Rev. Punchayil. I and about six of my cousins (age range was from 8 to 21) would go out into the paddy fields in the night with Cadnica torches and hurricane lamps. We used to catch some 40 large green frogs and five or six cat fishes. Late into night, this group would return, divide the catch and have a great time next day with fried frogs and fish curry. This was my

You will never know

We are capable of great role plays. A couple of minutes before someone slits her veins, she will laugh and sing with you. Even when we are on the verge of losing everything we ever had, we can steal a minute to relish a burger! Our ability to silently suffer injustice will confound even our creator. Some lives begin and end without having lived at all.

Buzz

You have to be in this place to actually believe what I am going to write. It is so downright surprising and unnerving that every time I think about it, I end up laughing. I had just spent a night in Patna. I woke up at about 5.30 am with an eerie feeling of being watched. Maybe the window was open and someone was snooping on my balding mane, you never know these days! With half open eyes I tried looking through the mosquito net. Something was blocking my view. I shifted a little to the left and looked out again. Whatever was blocking my vision moved with me! It was not full light yet and I got scared. I sat up on the bed with a start. One hundred thousand mosquitoes divided into batches, one set moved to where my head was and the other set remained buzzing close to where my face was. I have never seen so many mosquitoes together in my life. They made me feel like a super star. Only, it was not my autograph they were after ;-)

The secret of the waves

It is said, what the sea bestows, the sea reclaims. There is nothing that is permanently mine There will be nothing in my entire life that I will own entirely and for all times. One day I will be too old for my frame to manage, and I will move on. The little love that I feel for you today will fade tomorrow. There will be other lovers other affairs and a lot many more of heart breaks. Everything that has a beginning has an end. Don't hold on to me, I am ever changing. I won't stop by forever, I will move on.

Of changing the world and other miss conceptions

Growing old is a good thing. It is like cold steel turning malleable, it is like harsh jagged edges of rocks getting rounded by the consistent onslaught of the seas and the winds. Growing older is about replacing my original beliefs about changing the world with uncomfortable thoughts about my own immortality, my own super stardom. Maybe I am not the only superman walking the earth! Maybe I don't have the kind of time I initially thought I had. Maybe I don't have the credits and bonus points in my kitty to go on fighting monsters and hidden enemies of the world forever. The years as they pass by lend relevance to what the masters have said before... Maybe some bit of what happens in my life is also because of me. Maybe those who have run away have run away because I am the kind of person who makes them kind of people run away. Maybe those who tag along tag along because there is something in me that glues them to me. I am good for some not good for some. The rage of youth and t

A Life Without You?

The mukri of the mosque next to my house shouts into the microphone everyday morning, calling the faithful to prayers. I see the tabela guy escorting his buffaloes to pasture, and I hear the paper guy delivering my morning paper at the door. Nothing much changes here. This is the twentieth year of you and I.

Memory

I remember the smell of burnt diesel from my teenage rail journeys. I also remember the color of your t-shirt, it was saffron. You had cut your hair small and were wearing a hair band. You had done up your eyebrows and your eyes sparkled and caught the light coming through the windows. We sat close, you liked it that way. I remember the heady fragrance of your perfume as it mingled with diesel fumes. The world outside was greener then, and there seemed to be to many yellow flowers in the fields. Surprisingly, I remember little of what we spoke. I remember the chug of diesel engines negotiating curves and I remember you and I standing by open doors, counting bogies. You counting the bogies and I counting the seconds you cling on to me, living each moment of togetherness, as if it were eternity. I love trains. Half my lines have trains in them.

Like a River

Does it matter which way it goes? It has to start from somewhere and end some other were. Sometimes it runs on the surface sometimes it flows far underground. It sows dreams on one bank and sorrow on the other. What it takes from one it gives back to the other. I have a beginning and an end. Between the beginning and this end, what I do is of no consequence to me. What gets done is. Until the time my time runs out, in your banks I will stay.

Fling

Out of an eternal slumber I awake And without an inkling of how my life was about to change I run into you! A meandering river from desolate places, I now find myself sinking Into an ocean of unfathomable depths called you. It is tumultuous What you do to me. And you... You color me blue.