Home .. Sweet Home

I found a home..

Moved to my own space at http://milestogo.in/ .

Please do visit me there.

(Right now, I have exported all contents to the new space. Have been keeping aside all new ideas because of the work that had to be done there and also because of the laziness to post it at two places. Now I think I can start afresh.. :-) )

Rain Drenched ..

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.

Standing by the bank and watching the highway of life

Just got this from my Diary of 2001. The sheet was one of the lecture notes :-D, and the hand writing was Rupa's. One of the moment's of creative discussion I suppose.

She has written the name of poetess at the end as "Dorothy
King". Google didn't show me such an author, nor I have read any other work of hers. Yet, the hope about life couldn't be more beautiful and optimistic than this.

They say life is a highway
And its mile stones are years
Now and then there is a toll gate
Where you buy your way with tears

It's a rough road, a tough road
And it stretches broad and far
But atleast it leads to a golden town
Where golden house are.

Strange are the bonds..

Being back from home, I was just cleaning up my realm in our flat (exact half of a shelf). I happened to flap through one of my old diaries, and a paper slip fell down. It was the poem by Madhusoodanan Nair, which he recited in the movie "Daivathinte vikruthikal" (God's mischieves). The poem sings beautifully about the worries of an Anglo-Indian who had to leave his home in Kerala to France.

On a sudden impulse, I attempted a quick translation. Here is it. :-) A human mind which refuses to let go the treasures, and holds on to it passionately..

Waking me up from deep sleep of darkness
You bestowed me the hued feather of life
And the sky for my wings to flap in too
And gifted a nest on the branch of your soul ..

Where else do I smell you..
Even in blossoms or in soft breeze
Where else do I find the river which -
You fill yourself with the life melting away..
Where else is the sky you spread yourself
With the petal of your dreams..

Even while the nightingale cries
And the lullaby of a stream dies out ..
And, in my dreams when a hard stone
Turns into sweetest fruit..
And, time loses its stride..
Yet my heart is bound to yours ..
And, I seek refuge in you ..


Can't let go..
I can't let myself go from your heart
Whichever paradise beckons me ..
My heaven is when I burn and melt myself
To the depths of your soul...
Dissolving myself in you .. is the eternal truth..

Rain Soaked..

It's been more than two weeks since I was away from blogger world. Had so many things to worry about. Now that everything is settled, and I am back to my Quadrant 2, I thought I would write something.

The rain is pouring forth outside, with the pitter-patter and the naughty wind. Yes, monsoon is 2-3 days earlier in Kerala.

I love to see the clouds running in, darkening the whole sky.. Then a sudden thunder .. Wind, all trees start dancing .. Then comes the sound like throwing sand over the roof .. Yet another round of fire ..

I first ran to my apartment to get my camera and take some photos of the rain and the dancing trees.. But I couldn't reach office back..



Lucky that my camera lens didn't get spoiled .. The wind was very strong.



The wildness of the rain and the speed of a car, when captured in sepia, came out like this.



When the rain gave me a little break, I ran back to office. Stood in front of the office building for sometime, enjoying the transition of noisy rough durga turning to a shy soft spoken stream on the ground with just a few drops falling down. And the wind, there was no trace of such an existence. Everything still, as if nothing happened... Except the small streams and puddles of water around ..



I believe that, rain has different language in different places.. Last year, we went for a trip to kodaikanal, from office.. The last destination was the kodai lake for boating ... We might have been in boat for 10 minutes when the rain started pouring in.. We sped back to the shore.. The rest is in picture.. How it rains in the lake ..



while we were waiting near the lake, the rain taught us a rare kind of sacrifice..



With rain, comes accidents. Rain opens so many doors for death to come in, and pick up people in masses. Floods, land slides, lightning what not..

It was 5 years back on a July 9, Malayala Manorama press photographer Victor George gave his life while covering a land slide near idukki.


I loved his photos.. I didn't know then that I would take a camera in my life, and it would turn out to be my passion. But I loved Victor's photos of rain .. I devote this post to the fond remembrance of such souls, who touched the heart of rain and walked with it .. Knowingly or unknowingly..

Koi Louta de - Touching Lyrics..

For all the nostalgic people, and for all friends in my life , especially those who are characters in the article below.

"Suhanee Raat Dhal Chukee, Na Jaane Tum Kab Aaoge"..
Muhammed Rafi started singing from the walkman connected to a car stereo in our class. Haroon was the owner of the stuff, and the day was our farewell day from government college Malappuram. I was passing out after having completed my Pre-Degree course. The whole room was noisy, what else can you expect from a 89 member class!! Amidst the noise, four of us sat in a corner with Rafi's magical voice flowing along.. The walkman was old, and the sound coming out itself had an antique effect, still, rafi went on "Na jaane tum kab aaoge..". The song still takes me back to those colorful days, filled with creative arguments and fun. I may attempt to write about it later..

Some songs stick to our mind associated with some moments - either good or bad.

Jayesh came online and was telling about some song he heard that morning, which remained in his lips till the time he messaged. Somehow, it took me back to a day in Food Court, where jayesh and Aneesh were sitting and singing - "Chaudvin Ka Chand Ho, Ya Aaftaab Ho Jo Bhi Ho Tum Khuda Ki Kasam, Lajawab Ho". That was the testing session of two cordless mikes. Again Rafi ..

"Chaahe tum kuchh na kaho maine sun liya
Ki saathi pyaar ka mujhe chun liya
Chun liya
Maine Sun liya.." - Liya Paul's favourite.. She was my room mate for quite a time during BTech, and good friend too. The basic trait we shared was extreme laziness. The song always had all the love towards George Mathew ;) (The 7-8 year old love ended up in the nuptial knot last year).
"Pehla nasha
Pehla khumaar
Naya pyaar hai naya intezaar
Kar loon main kya apna haal
Aye dil-e-bekaraar
Mere dil-e-bekaraar
Tu hi bata" .. dedicated to Liya Paul, or rather Liya George :-)

Tinky is one of the first characters whom everyone related to me knows. We became friends from the very early days of BTech, because of her humor sense and my tolerance :-D She used to dream a lot and worked for making the dreams come true too.. But there were always her crazy dreams like running around a tree with her boy friend. Unfortunately, she didn't have one - hence, the window of our hostel room became the tree and she would hang on it and around (ofcourse, alone) - "Ghum hai kisi ke pyaar mein dil subah shaam
Par tumhe likh nahin paaon main uska naam
Haaye raam, haaye ram.. "


Tinky, Rupa and me were the caroms board combination during the first year of BTech. It happened to be the caroms board combination because of our heights. Tinky, Rupa - 5 feet and me the tallest of the lot, with 5'2". Don't misunderstand that we were experts in carroms. The idea was Bobby Sir's, that with a 4th person of almost same height we would make fine legs for a carroms board. Rupa loved the song "Pal Pal dil ke paas, tum rahthe ho..", and "choo kar mere man ko, kiya tu ne kya ishaara..", which was always heard in our room during 3rd semester (though in the coming semesters it changed to some other song.. "tum dil ki dhatkan ho" - Best wishes to both of them)

"(mere nainaa saavan bhaadon
(phir bhi meraa man pyaasaa..)"
- Sojish was running behind it to know the meaning of the song. Thats how I first noticed it. Whenever I feel bad, it fills me with peace.

I am not able to find a proper conclusion for the article. It was just an outburst of nostalgia I was feeling these days. Hence I leave it this way, filled with memories and sweetness of voice. I wish I had an audio blog. :-)

Disclaimer : 1. If any of my friends felt bad that they didn't have place here, I deeply apologize in advance. Songs are never ending. This article will surely have a sequel in near future, with more nostalgic moments.

The Rang De Basanti Effect

"There are two primary choices in life - to accept condition as they exist or accept responsibility for changing them.
RANG DE BASANTI is about changing them"
- Rakesh Omprakash Mehra (Director of Rang De Basanti)

Let me warn all my readers first - this is not yet another review of Rang De Basanti. In the movie, there is more than one discussion about corrupt politicians and the pathetic situation of a poverty-stricken India. The youth which represents our generation sighs during each discussion that nothing can't be changed in this country. We sigh along with them, and when Aamir Khan utters the words, "kill him" (about killing the corrupt politician), we hold our breathe and wait. What is gonna happen.. Does the system change?

Let the debate about the movie go on .. Whether the climax was effective.. Whether the movie was dragging .. anything. But, in the end, what stays back in mind is the quote : "There are two primary choices in life - to accept condition as they exist or accept responsibility for changing them."

Changing conditions can be either by making a living or breaking it.

I get always confused by the people who come begging in buses and trains. Since I have to pass through a lot of bus stands or railway stations before reaching home, the frequency of stretched hands is really high. There are many arguments regarding giving money to them. One is that, we should never give them money because it would make them rely on begging as a means of living. However, most often, especially when I travel alone, I find it too difficult to turn away from a persistent stretched hand.

In such a situation,
- will you blame the govt who does nothing to ban begging?, or
- will you give them a coin so that they don't disturb you any more? Or
- will you think of accepting the responsibility to contribute your share towards changing the conditions?

In Poornam, there is a group of people who accept responsibility for changing conditions. They didn't kill corrupt politicians to change lives. Instead, they just work silently to make some lives happier, to bring smiles to a few faces. A very good percentage of Poornam people take part in this mission. As part of doing this, a few volunteers from Poornam make a visit to Palluruthy Relief Settlement every month.



Palluruthy Relief Settlement (PRS), rehabilitates beggars and destitute from streets. PRS is run by Corporation of Cochin. Each time we visit, there would be around 250 inmates. Things are not smooth always, with a lot of mentally challenged people.






Poornam adds a few drops of contribution each month to the big ocean of needs they have.

There are lots of lessons we need to learn from such visits. The first and foremost is our duty to the society we live in. Each visit reminds us, how blessed are we in our big apartments and air conditioned offices. We are expected to give it back to the society - let it be a combined effort or single.

Add your drop too, which would make atleast one person smile. It doesn't matter where you add the drop of your kindness because all good deeds are bound to reach the same ocean.

"Little drops of water, Little grains of sand
Make the mighty ocean, And the beauteous land
Little deeds of kindness, Little words of love,
Make our earth an Eden, Like the heaven above"

- Mrs. J. A. Carney