Travel across my fantansies

i love traveling, however short or long it may be. i recall the bike rides with my dad across the town, especially when the whole town is about 2 sleep. Each time he took thrugh different roads and when it rains, we never cared. The pleasure in finding new roads, our own little chats, secrets v shared (mom never approves that cold coffee is most tasty when you hav during in a heavy downpour). it was my childhood pride....oh hw i miss it!!

Another thing that i recall is the occasional trips 2 our cousin's home. Years back, when we were free from career tensions and xam worries, it had been trip for week. I still remember the last minute rush and run behind the bus. though it was a mere two and half journey, for me, it was journey around the earth. I used to watch with wonder-struck eyes how paddy fields ran past me and slowly the flat land turns into rough and hilly terrains and how slowly green carpets of paddy gave way 2 darkness filled rubber plantations. Mind would be then filled with plans for blasting the vaction with my cousins.It was a memorable journey. But the jouney back home was miserable especially with the thoughts of re-opening of school and also worried about many a things i forgot 2 share with my cousin.

I started traveling alone only when i was in 10th. ( disadvantages of having a very anxious mother and very little guts). though it was short trip to-and-fro school, i liked it. all bus stop chatter and all. but moreover it was the sense of freedom that i loved most.

For last three years I hav been shuttling from ernakulam to allepey. Home sickness made me a frequent commuter, so frequent that sometimes i need not tell the destination, because an alleppey ticket would be in my hand before i know. Bus travel gave me so many memorable things. I think i could write a book on that....mention not the time i had took the wrong bus and had a free trip across the town, the fights made 4 seats on monday mornings, the time when the bus was taken to police station and had a chat with friendly SI, the time when bus has to stopped since the poor conductor had to attend to the call of nature, the time when i snored over my old professor's shoulder (it was rly embarrassing), the time when i accidently met my friend's best friend about whom v used to talk a lot, but have never met, and what not. At first, one of my frnd used to accompany me back home.. the bus jouney was a time for sharing the gossips of the whole week. but now it is time for my solitary pleasure. I won't usually listen to music, but like to sit in the first window seat and lose myself in dreams. Seriously i never know , how the one-and-half hour passes. Nowadays I have found a stretch of road which as dreamy as anything. it is hardly of a kilometre, without a single building in sight, the road winds on like a black ribbon with green marshy land on one side and silvery blue backwater on the other lined with green shurbs. in between there are some palms reminding of old gulf postcards. its truly seems magical, especially today with all rainclouds. in fact i love traveling in bus when it rains, (though not favouring the leaking bus tops). It is a sort of dream -this travel, truly i feel like waking up after a long sleep when i reaches the bus stand.

Coming to think of it, there are many jouneys in my life that stays alive-like excursions from school, little family trips and pligrimage and most recently our clas trip 2 wayanad. I think i could write a separate blog on that.

Coming to think of it i remember our delhi trip last january. I usually despise train. I don;t know y. May i hate the commotions in stations or well feel suffocated by the walls of train. But the three day trip was amazing. Lots of new friends. travel across the dry terrains of andhra, then through chambal and finally the soothing views of Up's mustard fields. I recall a foreign photographer who indeed was traveling the whole trip just for taking snaps.i too was having a thousands of snaps in my heart. Finally we all parted, without even exchanging a phone number. As i took my luggaes to metro station, i just recited an old poem in mind "Like strangers v met, like strangers v part".

In fact as some wise man has said, this life is a journey from birth to death. v meet many through the course. But had to part to with all some point of time. V may not be aware of it until we reach our final destination. In fact , i love this jouney....

A lady who lived.....

As every media space is filling with the tribute and memories of Kamala das, I'm know I'm not the right person to write about her with my limited knowledge.

Yet I want to make a personal tribute to her. Let me admit at first instance itself that I know her just only through her 5 books. But still the Madhavikutty I felt and understand was the most mesmerizing personality.

The first work of her I came across was " Nashtapetta Neelambari" - a short story collection. It left me amazed like a day-old child looking aghast into the new world. In fact, it was a new world- one in vivid colors in darker shades. Her words were so alive that I felt sure that even after years,when anyone turns over the page, they could smell the wetness of her ink.

Her "Ente katha" (My story) was the most precious Birthday gift I have ever got. Then there was her "Neermathalangal Poothapol" and "Balyakalasmaranakal" which takes us back to our childhood. But the most striking work of her for me was "Chandanamarangal", which portrayed the relationship between women in a every beautiful way.

Though her works were highly criticized , I felt it to be one with filled with passion and truth. The way she narrates without polishing it with hypocrisies captures my heart. I too wished to stay awake and know the smell of the nights with all its jasmines and 'gandharajans'....

Leaving the cloak of writer apart, I felt she is one of the beautiful women I have seen. Morevoer she was a woman of passion. May it has added to her beauty. To quote herself a woman would be most beautiful when she is in love or is being loved. She was indeed beautiful until the last moment.

During her last days, she repended that she had written in malayalam. but i felt it to be our luck to be able to read her in the language of her heart. nothing could be as intense as that.

As the first drop of monsoon pelts down the earth, she lays there dead beneath the mahagony tree. But still stay alive in many a heart reminding us the tale of a lady who really lived...

An evening

I stood there silently watching the setting sun. It is better to say that something has silenced me from within. I gazed on the golden waves, breaking into the silvery froth erasing the footprints just like the hands of time that sweeps away memories. The sand castles lay abandoned like broken dreams. I don't know the reason why even a single grain of sand churns me within.

I love these evenings... more than the freshness of mornings, the tiring ache of the evenings fondles me. With a sleepy eyes, I like to watch the sunsets while my naked legs are washed cold by the waves. I like the way salty breeze plays with my hair.

Sometimes a mad feeling takes over my tired body. I wish to wall straight into the bossom of the sea. I wish to be a part of its depth, want to be a drop of blue.... a tiny droplet that can fly up to the sky when the sun shines hot. Then I'll be a part of that beautiful sky , floats away like a puffy cloud.....far away to unknown land. The setting sun has painted those clouds violet and rose. I just laughed away my crazy thought.

Slowly i sank to the cooling sand. As the coolness of the ice cream melted down my throat, I looked up the sky again. Stars has started popping in. I imagined myself in a Planetarium, all set for the show. My ears longed for the cold booming voice of the commentator. But the rustling of kites wake me up from the half-dream. Only a few remains floating against the darkening sky. A few hours back, the blue sky seems to be exploding with colours. tiny dots of blue,green,rose, violet, gold, silver were drawn by the numerous kites. But now, like an old lady, beach is deserted except 4 few dreamers like myself.

yes, i just sat there, filled with an unknown melancholy , but yet happy to be alive

Theory of Independence

Why do we work for? It is a question that I asked myself many a times. But never, as usual I reached a conclusion. Yet another question to the bundle. I just want an answer to hold on as truth.

Truth…. I know is very relative term(it is one of the most valuable lesson law school has taught me). There is nothing called truth for all time. What is truth today will be a lie some other time. Or even can be true and false at the same time. There is nothing much truer than the relativity of truth. The very fact that I’m alive is only true for this moment. Who is sure about the next second.

I seem to be be confused. Rite? So as I was talking about, I was just searching for an answer. Leaving all economic theories , what is the real reason for the years of hardwork. This question pops up especially when I have to wash the dishes ( something I really hates to do) when our maid-servant fails to turn up. I simply wondered if the motive of working is same for everyone, why should I have to spend years of studies and exam. The theological reasoning of karma is hard to digest

Is it the common answer of earning bread? The pages of history clearly shows that in fact the whole system of law and society emerged from ancient man’s desire to be agriculturists. However the human race has moved a great farther. So something more should be a part of the life.

Thinking for an alternative, is it the thirst for independence that have ruled the evolution. Early men born independent were masters of themselves. They were however forced to settle and cultivate by many factors like paucity of resources. Even then he tried to preserve his sense of freedom by trying to protect the piece of land near him. He never let anyone to evade to his privacy and discrepancy to its were dealt with. This in fact was the beginning of the legal system. However evolution of society resulted in the suppression of a certain people who may be having or not having certain attributes which let them retain their freedom. It can be economical, social or political. But the basic instinct of freedom was still alive which still lead to further evolution. Henry Maine, an eminent jurist has opined that society has evolved from status to contract. Now a reverse trend , though not in same spectrum is taking place. Status means nothing other than the rights derived by a person owing to his position or status in society. The change from status to contract, the stage where any person can derive his right on the basis of contract was in fact result of thirst of independence.

In such a stage in fact to derive rights, to have independence, a person need to be individually equipped. In the present scenario, since money and qualifications are significant factors to be independent in the society, we are working. Hence though my maid servant and myself are having similar life, the sense of freedom I possess is infact the reward of my education.

My theory seems really weird, Rite? Well, tht’s all folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Symphony of Stars

When the whispers of light caressed , I was startled
I wondered aloud , do light whisper??
Yes of course, if the sight be its magic ,can't it speak tooo.........
Then I listened, with all the might, resting my head on the soft pillow of silvery sand
Yes indeed, it was the symphony of stars, the voice of silence from the world ahead!!
Oh, How could the world which intakes all the voices of this fairy land
its roars, joys and sighs......... How could it remain silent???
Through the specks of light it send, the serenade......... the symphony of stars
but it cant be perceived by mere mortal ears...... It falls only to those ears of souls
but it can be unlocked only by the golden key...... the invisible thread that comes with the deepest joy or utmost grief...... But is that the biggest Fiction you have ever heard...........No, of course not...
The Life indeed is the biggest fiction......... the tale that begins from the darker cave of mother's womb and ends beneath the coolest earth,which is as cold as a December mist.......
Isn't this strangest Tale...........we feel that we are with everyone, every one with us.....but the shades of truth never can leave unnoticed......... the only companion during this journey is the shadows we built for ourselves, even it tries to hide away in the mid day.... Even the self is a fiction rite??? Or Am I the truth and The whole Universe my manifestation,..........No IDEA
yet another question to the bundle, Bundle that never seems to vanish............
It will be better if i let myselves lose in this symphony.......The Symphony of stars..........the serenade of soundless world...........

Rain!!

Being washed away by the showering drops to the world of ecstacy, i'm sure is a moment experienced by each n everyone of us atleast once in lfe. Even if it comes admist a jolly picnic trip or while a late-office drive, the pelting droplets will not miss their charm. Though painted n portrayed by so many brushes or poured out in poetry as sighs from the hearts of a lovers or the tears of some angels up the heaven , not a single drop of rain lacks freshness. Have u watched the face of earth after a rain- it seems painted fresh by some unknown artist. And what about the smell of the earth when the first drop of rain kisses after the scorching summer?most exocting...

Though the rain is simply captivating wherever it falls.i feel it more beautiful while it falls in teh backdrop of greenary, admist the green lashes of the tree to the muddy grounds. Even as i moved on to city, i njoyed watching the rain at night while laying in my bedRain - though my physic teacher tried to make it yet another boring phenomenon with all the water-cycle stuff, i like it view as my companion, wherever it falls, i sense a soothing hand wishing me a greeting.

This reminds me of a rainy day not long ago.it was the last of our school days. The pain of parting reflected in all our faces. After being together for long years ,it was simply intolerable. So that me and my friend decidesd to walk back home. Though it was summer time there were occasional downpours, So we both had our umbrellas. As we slowly walked , unusually a silence filled b/w us. I was really at loss of words. Formally , though u can bid farewell through som words in an autograph, saying good bye to a true friend is vry hard task.- i understood it tht day. We kept moving. Suddenly it started raining- not a heavy one though. (i just wondered whether the nature is too sharing with us our sorrow) . But I did not feel like opening my umbrella. Surprisingly, my friend too didnt open her umbrella. We just walked on and on as the tiny drops careesed us with its cool hands, slowly my friend started talking about those days when we wer together. By the time we reached her home , it stopped raining leaving us two smiling , soaked to skin, yet with very light heart. As i started back to my home , what i could recall was just the magic of rain

May be it seems silly to many of u, but what i wanted to say is how small things could make our life more wonderful?just ponder.