Usually, I find something to write first, and then only open the notepad to start typing. Today, its the reverse, I don't have anything to write. "Then, why are you here, idiot, to waste our time?!!", you may ask. The thing is, I suddenly remembered this was situation which made the start of everything.
As I started off, or rather kicked off, everything started because I badly wanted to write. When I was a small child, my only desire was to become "famous". I admired and adored each famous lady. One day I may start becoming mother Teresa, and next day I wanted to seek IPS, following Kiran Bedi, the very next day I would be flying to moon :-) The madness went on, as I grew up.
One thing which never changed was, the feeling of a filled cup at times. Too much ideas .. But how to express!! I am sad, can I sing it out :-( But my parents said my voice was not good enough; whereas my brother sung well during his childhood days. There is a beautiful place on the way... How can I store it for future!! I didn't know how to draw well .. Such brimming ideas led me to writing, the only thing which I could do. With a pen and paper at hand, anyone could write :-)
But they never came into light .. Remained in the darkness of my closed diaries :-) Then comes the Pre-Degree days, where anything and everything was colorful. From the school life, when suddenly jumped into a college life, that was a blast indeed.
There was Rashid (I don't know where he is now), who wanted to create a hand written magazine. My first public entry, thus was some musings about a "death anniversary" photo, which comes in news paper every year and which never gets aged. Somehow, he found it worth publishing.
Some days back, I happen to remember about this story, when I read about Prof. Eachara warrier somewhere. He fought with shadows around 3 decades to get any information about his son Rajan, who "disappeared" during the emergency (1976-77). The police caught him from his college (Regional Engineering college, Calicut, now known as NIT Calicut). It was known afterwards that he died in police custody at the kakkayam police camp and was burned. Kakkayam police camp is now notorious for the cruel modes of punishments employed there during emergency. Eachara Warrier wrote his autobiography about his struggle for justice, and the pain and suffering he and his family has undergone. Oru achante Orma kkurippukal (Memoirs of a father). You can read the translation of the book online here.
The picture of Rajan is familiar to all Malayalis, and that's a picture which never got aged. Death stops aging. (Chapter : The Burden that the mother entrusted)
"She was not aware of Rajan's tragedy. Whenever I came to Ernakulam from Calicut she used to ask for Rajan. I told her lie after lie. It made her uncomfortable. She started loosing faith in me, and behaving oddly with her loved ones.
Rajan's continued absence troubled her, and I had to suffer as a result. She expected Rajan to be with me whenever I came from Calicut, and anxiously awaited him. When she knew that Rajan was not with me color of disappointment would spread over her face. The depth and darkness of distress on her face went on increasing. She stopped talking to others, and went into a world of silence. Sometimes she accused me of not loving Rajan. She confided to relatives and friends that this was the reason I was not bringing Rajan along when I came. She murmured in secret that I never loved her or Rajan.
Meanwhile, many of Rajan's friends got married. One day when I reached Ernakulam she asked me, "All of Rajan's friends have got married. Are you not a father too? Are you not worried that he is yet to get married?"“"Oh, our son is dead," I felt like telling her then. The sentence got choked in my throat. At that moment I felt vengeance against her and the world. Regaining the balance of my thoughts, I would say, "I am trying to find a suitable girl for Rajan. But it's not that easy, you know?"” Her response used to be a lone empty stare of disbelief.
On March 3, 2000, Rajan's mother left me forever. A week earlier I had been to see her. As I bid farewell, she held my hands, still lying on the bed. There was a painful request in her eyes, "Will you bring Rajan along when you come next time?"” I couldn't look at her face. The guilt of telling her lie after lie had haunted me for years. Five days later I went to her again. Death was playing hide and seek somewhere near her, but she remembered everything.
She called me, "Will you do one thing for me?"
"Sure," I answered.
She gave a small packet of coins to me. Those were the coins she saved in that box. "
This is how he concluded his words. : (Chapter : with malice towards none)
"I shall stop. The rain is still lashing out. I remember my son when this heavy rain drums my rooftop, as if someone is opening the locked gate and knocking at the front door. It is not right to write that a living soul has no communication with the soul of the dead.
I hear his songs from a cassette on this rainy night. I am trying to retrieve a lost wave with this tape recorder. The good earth is getting filled with songs till now unheard by me, this crude man. My son is standing outside, drenched in rain.
I still have no answer to the question of whether or not I feel vengeance. But I leave a question to the world: why are you making my innocent child stand in the rain even after his death?"
..... And, he left the world, throwing that question to us, a question sharper than any weapon designed so far.. A question which is meant to pierce the heart of any thinking man.
I am quoting from the afterword of the translator too :
"I am putting down these sentences after translating the last word of this book, Memories of a Father. The day has not dawned yet and it is raining. ...
It is raining. I too am drenched. The rain cleanses everything, but scars of old wounds remain; they cannot be washed off that easily. Because of these scars, the struggle should continue, to recreate us as more beautiful people. The day has not dawned yet. It is still raining."
The Tail end of the story : (Press report after Professor's death)
"Democratic Indira Congress (Karunakaran) leader K. Karunakaran on Thursday was visibly disturbed when he was asked to comment on T.V. Eachara Warrier, father of P. Rajan who disappeared during the Emergency.
Talking to mediapersons here, Mr. Karunakaran termed the incident during the Emergency "unfortunate." "But what is Eachara Warrier's importance? What is his contribution to the country? Is he the representative of any political party or movement? Is he a litterateur? Why haven't you bothered to find out the pain of a woman whose son was killed in the police station?" Mr. Karunakaran asked. The DIC(K) leader said he had won all the elections held after the Rajan case."
Mr. Karunakaran was the Chief Minister of Kerala during the emergency.
