When everything is brilliantly wrong!

Let me be frank with all of you - I have no idea what story I am going to tell you. Looking at the mirror, I don't see a   forty year old, 5 feet tall, dark skinned housewife; but a hundred, a thousand girls scattered across the wall; each like a painting on which hours would have been spent. Some of them are bright, brilliant, radiant, colourful, simply magnificent. Some of them, dynamic black and white portraits, that glow in front of your eyes. Some of them are dull and boring. And some of them; pitch black. Maybe red too. But one thing is for sure, not even the brightest of them all will match the beauty and the glory of the of wall of which they hang. Now what story do I tell you?

Maybe that was the only day in my entire life that I woke up earlier than I had to. College started at 10am and I was bent over my study table at 5.30, my Faber Castell making perfect strokes on the A3 sheet. Each line had to be just right, so close to each other, but not overlapping. Once you have the lines done, you draw the lines again in a perpendicular direction, to get the darkness right. This time I had to be really careful. Each line had to be measured, only then will I get the perfect intensity in my portrait. And my assignments should be nothing less than that. Perfect!

"What the? Which is East? Where did the sun rise? Why are you up so early? Who are you?" Funny how Devi shot those questions without a miniscule hint of the slumber she just had. I mean, normally you are like, "Ahhhh.... *yawn*, wha... What are you... Ahhhh... *yawn*, doing?" Never knew Surprises could make you so alert in the morning.
"Assignment Di. Have to submit it today no?"
"Yeah, but you.... Ahhhh... *yawn*", that's better, "completed that already right?"
"I tore that one off." Yes I did.
"WHAT!?" Ouch. That scream hurt my ear. And almost woke the entire hostel up.
"Yeah, I had smudged it with my finger a little. And... It was not perfect. Yuck! Looked disgusting actually.  now look at this. 100% strokes, now that's beautiful!"
"You are absolutely crazy! Arathi, the one you did earlier was amazing! And everybody smudges their portraits. John won't say a thing"
"Maybe John Sir won't." I was the good student. Did her work in time and never addressed the professor without a 'Sir' or a 'Madam', as the case may be. "But I will. Just look at this yaar. Can you even compare this one with the earlier work. Nothing doing. Just a couple of strokes more and my work is complete. You get ready now. It's 9.15 already."
"Bloody hell! No bath today then. Let me get dressed. Since when have you been up?"
"5.30" She gave me the "you are crazy" roll of the eyes look and dashed to the toilet, and I put the final stroke to my master-piece. Wallah! Now nicely fold it up, put it in your blue coloured notebook, move the notebook to one corner of the table, and get ready in a jiffy. Have GOT to be the first to submit the assignment. John Sir will have to salute me now. Maybe a tear or to would be fine. That's appreciation enough.

Alright kids, now let me teach you the most important lesson of your student life. When you are done with your homework, put it inside the bag. Because 20 is too young an age to get a heart attack. And if you forget to carry the assignment that you spent an entire sleepless night on to college, you are going to get a Major Heart Attack. Trust me!

My eyes felt as if they were on fire, and they looked that way too, red as fire. Bathed in tears I pulled emptied the bag looking for the green notebook I kept my portrait in. I shoved my hands inside the bag and scanned it thoroughly, again and again and again. It was nowhere. My fingers trembled beyond control. I couldn't catch my breath. Panicked to the point of suffocation I scanned my books one by one. None of them was green. How could it be? I completed my portrait. Argued with Devi for what seemed like an hour, put the final stroke on my work, kept it safely in the notebook and that was it. After getting dressed I threw all the notebooks lying on the table into my bag.... or did I? When did I last see the green note book? "Hey guys, did you see my book", helplessly, with a wavering voice barely able to spell out the words I turned to my classmates. They all shook their heads together. "What happened?", "What's wrong?", "Can I help you?" some of them enquired. I was in no mood for chit chat. How the bloody blundaleomite could I forget it? I almost shouted. Tears rolled down my cheeks.

The entire class stood up to greet Professor John, who wasted no time in signalling all the students to place their assignments on his table. As cleverly as I was trying to avoid his gaze, his eyes spotted me and he said, "Arathy are you alright?"
"Yes sir. I was just" I struggled to stutter. Let alone speak.
"You are wanted in the staff-room. Susmita is looking for you" He didn't wait for me to elaborate. Or should I say, he cut me short. Literally.

Mrs. Susmita Chandran, Head of Arts Department at our college had asked me to meet her that morning, to discuss about the college fest. I would be performing a solo dance and also leading a group performance. Well, if shivering were a dance move, I was Shobhana that morning.

"Will it kill you to wake up a little bit early one morning. Didn't I tell you to meet me a little early this morning?" If there is a God, I am pretty sure he is planning all this on purpose. And I am sure its a he because only a guy could be this cruel. In all that tension about the missing green notebook, I forgot that I had to meet her that morning. And Susmita Maam was one person you didn't want to anger.
"Madam, I was a little,"
"What Madam Madam? You are a dancer ad tomorrow on I might ask you for early morning dancing sessions. You should be a little disciplined Arathy." She was a really nice woman actually. But a voice as hoarse as a peacock and her really irritating mood swings which aggravated the effects of her voice, made her a personality anyone would hate. A personality who could spoil your day.
"S-Sorry Maam", I stuttered. But now there was a slight relief. I had escaped John Sir's Class. Which meant, time to go and get the assignment from the hostel. Yee-Haw!
"Alright, so you have practice all day today. Go and get your stuff from the hostel and gather all your team members. We will start right away." The doctor prescribed just what the patient wanted. I ran towards my hostel like a bullet from a gun.

Shining, brighter than the sun, greener than the forest, resting in peace, awaiting its unison with its master, the green notebook lay on my study table in solitude. I quickly flipped the pages to look for my portrait and it wasn't there. A bolt of lightning went through my head. My legs became weak and my fingers became numb. Everything became empty.

There was no time to waste. Gather your stuff and dash. And for the day, stay out of John Sir's sight. If Susmita doesn't have any plans for tomorrow morning I will complete my work once again and submit it tomorrow. Will tell him that I completed it the previous day itself and that I couldn't submit it because I was busy with all this dancing and stuff. That's that. Now let's focus on'next issue at hand. College Fest - Dance Program. I swiftly picked up my stuff, double checked the bag to make sure that I didn't miss anything and ran towards the practice room in the basement of our school building.
"Where are the others?" Susmita, busy setting the music player, asked me.
"Uh, I" But she wouldn't give me a chance to complete, would she?  
"Now, do I have to ask you to do everything one by one. Go and call everybody. Fast! You have wasted enough time!"
"Alright Maam", like an obedient student and quickly walked off, only to stopped by her.
"Wait, where are you going?"
"Uhh...", without making the pause too long for her to thrash me again, "I will assemble everybody maam"
"Do you have the team list with you?" Fish! How could I forget to get that from her!? "Wake up already Arathi. Be alert!" Dear God, I hope you are enjoying all this.

I gathered the list of 8 students from her and started towards the first year classes. Most of the participants were first years. Only one of them from the second year, my classmate - Neha. And collecting her would mean, facing John Sir. Uh oh.

"Maam, can I have Lakshmi?" I asked the professor, peeping into one of the first year classes. He politely signaled the chubby, fair skinned girl and she came out of the class to meet me. I explained to her about the dance practice, stopped her from screaming with excitement, introduced her to the other 7 girls including myself and gave her a life saving task.
"Lakshmi, now can you do me a little favour. Just go to this classroom, ask for Neha and bring her to the basement. There will be one John Sir in the class, just tell him its for the dance practice for the college fest."
"Okay!" She said, still not being able to contain her excitement and walked away, while I led the other girls to the basement for dance practice.

"Where are Lakshmi and Neha?" Does she get paid to scold me?
"Maam, I have sent Lakshmi to get Neha."
"Why do you do this Arathy? Who is the team leader, you or Lakshmi? That first year girl might not even know where the class is. Why do you let your juniors go run such errands? How many times to I have to ask you to be a little more responsible?"
"Alright Maam, I will go and get her." I had seen the limits of my temper and patience. I mean, there is a limit for things. I am not an 8th grader!
Tying my shawl around, ready to start shaking my feet, I walked out of the room, up the stairs, and found my two comrades headed towards me. With a jerk I turned around and Ouch.

"She has sprained her ankle", the doctor said, inspecting the swollen foot. "You will have to rest for a week. No dancing", the doctor gave his verdict and disappeared. And I didn't have the courage to lift my eyes from the swollen feet. Susmita was counting on me for the Dance program and this time I let her down Big Time. I knew that if I missed an entire week of practice, there was no way I could be ready for the fest. Which meant the team would not have a leader. Which meant I let down all the 8 girls. If the program got cancelled, then.... I could feel Lakshmi's anxiety over my head.

My eyes had swollen more than my feet. My heart reached my throat as I prepared myself to face Susmita who would invariably throw a tanrum. Or maybe just kill me! "How are you feeling honey?" The hoarse voice whispered over me. I jerked my neck to turn towards her face, just to make sure it was her itself. And it was Mrs. Susmita Chandran. A kind face, eyes full of sympathy looking at me. "Don't worry. You take rest. I will ask two girls to help you to your class."

"No!" Susmita looked at me dubiously. Now what do I say. "Maam", words tumbled out of my mouth. My brain didn't play a role over here, I am sure, "I don't think we have to waste a whole day of practice just because of me. I know I am the leader and without me practice will be of no use. But... umm... we will atleast teach these girls the basics. Get them used to the song. Get them ready. I can help out. My leg will be alright by tonight I am sure. So tomorrow when I get started, even they will be ready. We can practice today"
"Are you sure?" Was she asking about the practice for the day or my being ready by the next day. I still do not know. But I nodded the strongest nod ever in the history of nods, "Positive"

We practiced until John Sir's class got over. And for the rest of the day I sat in my class doing some tragic introspection, which led me to more trouble for not concentrating in class, which led me to do some more introspection which led me to more trouble. And by the end of the day I was completely washed out. With one hand over Devi's shoulder I dragged myself towards my hostel room, seriously considering the option of throwing myself out of the window that night.

"Surprise!" I never knew my room could host 500 girls! An entire army of women, what looked like 500 but could not have been more than 15, walked out of my room hugging and kissing me one by one. And the last of them walked towards me with a cake bearing 21 candles. 21, I guess is a good age to get a heart attack. And I was getting one. "Happy Birthday", all of them sang. My eyes turned wet again.
The entire hostel celebrated for me, an evnt I myself had forgotten.. Well, God is a gal I guess then.

"Happy Birthday!" Professor John walked up to me. "And let me tell you. The portrait was absolutely fabulous!"
Now, should I ask him what portrait he is talking about. Nahh, never mind. However, later I found out that it was the blue book I has kept my assignment in, and that I had carried it to class and that after I left for dance practice one of my neighbours in class found it lying on the able and gave it to Sir and he loved it.
"And I loved it. So, I took it to the Principal and he has approved of this portrait as our entry to the National Fest to be held at Delhi on 20th May. And you, will be leaving to Delhi on the 18th."
Now, should I scream "YAHOOOO!!!" which I guess I did. Or should I inform him that 18th is the date of our college fest. Yeah, I think I should ask that.
"Yes, principal sir told me that you will be leading a dance team. But then later I came to know that you sprained your ankle and won't be able to practice for dance. So I talked to Susmita Miss and she agreed to send you. She just wants your help to audition for a new team leader and train the new team. Guess you will have enough time for that."
"Sure, yes sir. That would be great!"

And it was great. Thanks to a sprained ankle, like a classic fairy tale story, this one got a Happy Ending. Guess I should have started off with Once Upon a Time. Well, then again, I didn't end up getting kissed by a prince so its a fair deal.

Now I look at the mirror again, a short, dark skinned, 40 year old housewife, with a hundred paintings in her canvas and many more in the making.

Love

The Lost Underwear and A Divine Dinner - My Last Act

"Ï WILL KILL YOU!"

Was it the sweet and soft piece of Paneer that danced in my mouth, or was it the Sitar that sang to the air that could pull crowds from across the nation with its tantalizing aroma. Or was it the fact, that the most beautiful woman, I have ever seen, and will ever see in my life, was smiling.
Yes, it was her... her smile that made my day. And her eyes, that shined like the full moon in the mid-night sky of her skin. And her lips, as they kissed the glass for a sip of orange juice, what was sweeter? Her face was bony and looked divine when she wore that large bindi on the middle of her forehead. She was sitting in front of me wear a black shiny dhavani, long ears that dangled as she took each bit and danced as she laughed. And how she laughed, with the voice of a singer, it always paralysed me.
"Try this out", her voice was always so melodious. For once, the Sitar didn't sound nice. Nothing could sound nice when she talked. It was hard not to compare. She picked a piece of Paneer from her plate, squeezed the gravy out of it, and took a bite from it, exposing its white centre. "Paneer.... Just so delicious!"
I followed her lead. It was magical.

"Are you even conscious?" My angry roommates voice blared as I snapped out of the nostalgia of my Potterical evening. I hadn't stepped into my house, hadn't even removed my blazer, that I had specially purchased for that evening, or even removed my shoes, that I had specially polished for that night. The angry face was staring at me from inside, and I was staring back at him from outside, utterly confused!
"Sorry, I was just... well... Nothing could have distracted me!" I said with shrug, still dreamy about the evening that just went by.
"Not even this?" My friend slapped me on my head.
"Well, technically not even that. You see, you can only get distracted when atleast 1%, or atleast 0.01% of your attention is on your surroundings. But when 100% is on, something so beautiful, I wouldn't have noticed even if you hit me with a rock. You see, its like the Road Runner show. That coyote is so focused on its target that it will fall down, only after it looks down. Even gravity can't distract him."
"Three things: first of all, The Road Runner show was one of favourite cartoons and because of your tragically romantic philosophy, now I hate it. Second, 'something so beautiful!'. Are you talking about that jungle girl you just dated?"
"My jungle queen!" At first I used to get irritated when people called her that. But then, she herself laughed at that, and well, her laugh almost cures anything. And then soon it became her nickname - The Jungle Queen!
"Good heavens, how could even think she is beautiful. She looks like a crow! And that gigantic bindi and those humungous earrings, and good knows from where she gets those Sarees. And her face, does she have a black hole in her mouth or what? Why does it look that way?"
"She is that most beautful woman. Ever!"
"I actually want to kill you for saying that. But there is a worse reason to kill you", my friend said and pointed towards the bedroom at my third roommate, who was staring at three underwears which he lay across my bed. A closer inspection brought to my notice, they were all identical. And only one of them was mine.

Let me be honest with you guys, it was not one of my best evenings. It might have as well been one of my worst evenings, although back then I thought otherwise. Around one week back, due to the persistent insistence of my two roommates, I went to watch a porno film... in a theatre. Well, what's wrong in that? Having sex is just natural. And there is nothing wrong in seeing people do that. I think. And we went to the bar, first time for me, to have a drink. And after that my memory is a little hazy. Yeah, it really kicks in when you have alcohol for the first time.
"Hey, look underwear! How much for one?" One of us shouted. I guess it 3 underwears for 10 Rupees or something.
"Then I will have one!" "One for Me!" "And one for me too!" And thus we bought 3 underwears that night. One week later, we found out that we have been wearing identical underwears. And now we don't know which one belongs to whom?

"How did this happen?" The third roommate asked me. It seems those two had some conspiracy while I was away to put all the blame on me. But I had me defence ready; for the past one week.
"Hey, it was your idea to get me drunk!" End of discussion. The blame was out of my shoulders.
But that was just one job done. The more important task, to identify which one belongs to whom. That was a real dilemma. What to do? Smell it?

"How did it happen?" The question was asked to me again. But this time, by someone I wouldn't have preferred. "What exactly happened?"
"What do you mean?" My worst nightmare could not come true. The underwear story could not have reached my girlfriend! Please, please say anything but, "I am talking about the underwear story!"
"I am talking about the underwear story!" Fish!
"Hey, wait, but tell me this first. How did you come to know about this?"
"The entire office knows about this. Your drunk roommate put it on whatssap last night. And today morning we interrogated him at office and he sang like a parrot and I ALMOST PUKED!"
"Hey, I know it is not something you can be proud of, but... these things happen. You should be happy that this happened just once!"
"I am not talking about the underwear. You went to watch a Porno? And had drinks at a pub?" Alright, she was serious. And I was in trouble! Let me see what can be done.
"Hey, don't be like a child yaar. Sex is natural"
"I didn't think you were that kind of guy!" Things were going out of control. Something had to be done immediately, and a debate about the pros and cons of pornography or drinking will not save the day.
"Hey, its not like I drink everyday or watch. It was just..."
"Just once that I know of!" Bloody hell, its code red. Time for the ultimate weapon. God save me.
"I am really really sorry! I promise... Promise in your name this will never happen again!" Please work, please work, please work!
"You are not the guy I liked"
"Please, I am sorry. Really really sorry. I swear it won't happen again. God Promise!" Tears had filled up my eyes.
"Never talk to me!"
"Please...", I was sorry.
"Ever again!"
The girl who shone like the Kohinoor last night, walked away. Just a few feet away, but it felt like miles. She was right there, across the room, but there was a huge wall in between us, and I could not go through.

Did I do the wrong thing in watching porn that day? Was I wrong in drinking that night? Or was I wrong in apologising to her?
Did I love her? Am I actually crying for her? What is right and what is wrong?

"What is right, is that you shared your underwear with your roommate. And that made a hilarious story!" My Jungle Queen whispered in my ear and kissed my cheek.


Hey all, its Ramon here. 25 blog posts and over 4000 pageviews, I am living the dream and thanks to all you guys, for inspiring me and motivating me, everyday. For asking me, "Hey, haven't you updated yet", and for saying, "Hey, I read it". And the best part of all, how much I learnt through this blog. Every post has been a lesson. Every story has taught me, somethings only stories can teach you. And I have loved it all. The night I stay up to tell a story, the evenings where I cook up my stories, the noons where I come across my tales, and the mornings where I decide, "Today I will say a story". It was heaven, it was a dream come true, it was an ambition realised! Thank you all for being with me. And I promise, Writer's World will be back with so much more! But for now, let me bid farewell. So much more to says, sorry's and thank you's. But let me wrap it up. Good Night!

Love

Ramon Dharma Rajan 

A Charismatic Curse

Telling a story is so much like singing a song; you need a rhythm that sways the reader, your pitch should be perfect and the words must be crystal clear, falling into the listener’s ear with the finest clarity. But sometimes the singer has to throw away all these rules to sing a song. There will be jerks in the rhythms, raga and shruthi will have to be ignored and words will be reduced into blasting sounds. There will be nothing but energy in that song. Such is the story I am going to sing today – My story. Well… Read and Enjoy!

         

          My story starts, obviously, the day I was born. But being a family man, living a peaceful life, I have to say my real story, the story that shaped the man who I am today starts in the first week of 9^th standard; Junior college as we used to call it back then.

          After college everybody laughs at that phrase, but an unbiased perspective will tell you that there was something about the last four years at school that gave a tint of college life. It was marked by radical life-changing turning points, so many colours and plummeting attendance. What you learn over there will mould your life. I learnt a lot from Ajith. And it almost moulded my life.

          For us 9^th graders, 11^th graders were nothing less than Gods.  Just out of 10^th standard Board Exam pressure and absolutely ignorant of the academic importance thrust in the year, they were the symbols of the explosion youngsters could make. They had the energy, the power, the vibrancy, the charm… The Charisma! They were the epitome of “Fun”, ask any school student. Best at Basketball, soccer and cricket, amazing pranksters, unbeatable at repartee, kings and queens of wit and for some illogical reason – stunningly good looking! Let me put it straight, for us, hanging out with one of them was like; our ultimate ambition. Being known as, “The guy who hangs out with those 11^th graders” would do wonders to your social status (which obviously meant everything to a school boy. And a college boy. And basically any human being in the world)

          And Ajith was my hero. Boy, what is it about him that almost makes you gay. I swear I have fallen in love with him every time he smiles at me. How is Ocean blue eyes just throw me into an imperius curse! What was it about him? He was tall, handsome, smart, funny, friendly, athletic, and astonishingly popular; every girl admitted her love for him. How does all this work? Charisma… the mystery behind the word is seriously annoying.

          Thankfully, or maybe not, I had known these two facts much before I got into 9^th standard and by God’s grace, I got to know him in the first week of school itself. There, as I told you all earlier, started my story. For most of my batch mates, this part of the story might be the longest. But lucky for you, this is all there is in my case:

“Anila, I have something to tell you. And I won’t make this long. Just 3 words” The round faced girl with plaited hair and a beautiful big bindi turned red, her eyes almost pooped out. “I”, followed by the most clichéd pause and a sigh for special effects, “have a really bad stomach ache. Do you have any medicines or something?”

          “GO TO THE DOCTOR YOU JACKASS!!!” I had cracked up and started towards the gang before she could react. “And that’s 14 by the way!”

          “Sorry, always been bad at maths” Bonus points! Ajith’s right hand man, Vinay was patting my shoulder and I could see the boss himself beaming at me.

          “Good job kiddo”, Ajith high-fived me, and I had made my Grand Entry into the Most Prestigious Posse of City International School. Tadaaaa!!!

          Boy was that year fun! Was there a day I had not laughed? Was there a day that was not awesome? Started out with movies and lunch get-togethers, but soon I was with them travelling across the country for a vacation. Late night hang-outs and partying at bars had become a norm. Drinking became a habit and smoking became an addiction. And girls were flocking towards me. Dream come true moments.

I mean, I could actually see myself a few months back, yearning to have fun, the way you are supposed to have fun. And there I was, living the moment. In a matter of few months school life had changed upside-down. I was the centre of attraction in my batch – junior Ajith, as many called me! People wished they could hang out with me, guys and gals were shy of talking to me, and my juniors looked up to me with awe. Lived every minute of it, let me tell you. When somebody treats you like a boss, be the boss! And when people don’t, treat them like shit!

“Where are you going?” My mom enquired, and that pissed me off. Moreover, the place where I was going to… was not a place anyone would discuss with their parents.

“Mom, I am not a kid. Please let me be myself…” My mom was always that annoying type. You know, always nagging you, “Where are you going?”, “When will you be back?”, “Be careful when you cross the road” and it goes on and on and on and on… Of late, I learnt to ignore it. I seriously didn’t want anything to ruin the moment. I was fussy about my royal stature.

  “How do you get rid of annoying Moms?” I asked Ajith one day. It seems it was a question almost everyone in our group had.

“Get married”

“And how do you get rid of annoying wives?” another question popped up.

“You can’t. Law of the universe my pal. An annoying woman is always there to ruin the day!” Ajith was unstoppable.

So was my mom. “Did you do your homework today?”

“Mom, FIY, I got past 4^th standard five year back!” I simply walked out of the house.

And as I explored new arenas of school life, started moving to next levels, even my mom started stepping up her game. Can’t call it a game, sometimes it was seriously annoying and got on my nerves.

“That doesn’t even belong to me. I have to return it tomorrow. Got it just for one bloody day, can’t you at least let me play for that one day?” – When she hid the PSP I borrowed from my friend, so that I focus on my studies. Things got a tad rougher when she found cigarettes under my bed.

          If my mom was tough, I was the Don. Nothing could stop me from living the life. I played my Play Station, had me drinks and lived my life. Yeah, she was there with her constant policing, but as they say, Don ko pakadna mushkil hi nahin, Namumkin Hai!

          Until finally we reached the, “This ends here!” moment. Kind of too childish to describe the situation actually, because what happened could easily be called as World War III if she anybody but my Mom. Second term results were out and she found the report card which, I thought I had were tactfully hidden! “WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING IN SCHOOL? WHAT KIND OF MARKS ARE THESE?” The anger in her eyes…

          “Amma, nobody studies in 9^th standard. Nobody will even see these marks. Everybody -”

          “I DON’T WANT TO LISTEN ABOUT EVERYBODY. I DON’T WANT TO LISTEN TO ANYTHING. THERE IS A LIMIT; I CANNOT TOLERATE ANY MORE OF THIS NONSENSE!”

          “Who is asking you to?”

          I almost did it in my pants I swear! The way her face turned, tears filled in her eyes, cheeks turned red, as if on fire. She was shivering all over, never had I seen her like that. She grabbed my hand with every ounce of strength and pulled me into my room. “YOU ARE SITTING IN HERE. THAT IS IT!” She screamed locking the room from outside. And I could not even move. The entire scene had paralysed my. And worse, I would miss my movie that night!

          And for a whole day, she did not open the door. I figured she meant business. For even if I had blasted the twin tower and my mom happened to be the President of the US, she would still give me three meals a day!

          One of Ajith’s friends had once told me how to open locked doors without the key. You could use a safety pin; twist it into a key and “Open sesame!” had never tried it before, but it worked. It was well past midnight, so I figured mom must have been asleep. Thought of dialling Ajith and meeting up. Cautiously, I moved to the living room to get out of the house. I found my mom lying on the floor in front of the sofa. She had fainted.

          I rushed towards her, her glaring face filled with tears still in front of my eyes, pulled her head on my lap and tried to wake her up. She wouldn’t wake up. Brought a glass of water from the kitchen and sprinkled it on her face, slowly she opened her eyes. Her head turned towards me and she jerked up, “Oh! Wait, oh my God, did I fall asleep. So sorry da! Wait, dinner is ready, eat now”

          She ran towards the kitchen chiding herself. “How could I fall asleep!? Oh my God, my boy has not eaten anything today. Here, eat fast. Shayy! I didn’t feed you anything, Oh my God!”

          Wait, did my mom just get Alzheimer’s or something. What was going on? I was shocked. “I am so sorry da. I shouldn’t have locked you up. I don’t know, I got so angry, and… so,” and she started weeping. “I didn’t know what to do. How to make you listen? How to make you understand? You listen to your friends and obey every word they say. They are cool, and all that. I am not. What would I do? I just didn’t know. I am so sorry da. Here, have some more. Do you want anything else?”

          Obey every word they say? I didn’t obey everything they said. I was not their slave. Wait… I…

          “Dad, I going to play with my friends. And in the name of bloody heaven will you get my cell phone fixed atleast today!? It has been almost a week since I have been screaming and… I want it perfectly working today itself, alright?” My son shouted from across the room and slammed the door.

          That night my mom taught me two things:

1.    Charisma a curse. It makes you oblivious about a beautiful world; that is just not charismatic.

2.    If you set your heart to it. You can even make a blind man see.

And today my son reminded me one thing. Life has to go a full circle. Wonder where I kept the keys to his room?

                                                                                                                                        

Love

The MCP's Love Affair

          Certainly the best way to entertain anybody is a love story. And when your narrator is Jithin the Ultimate MCP, you are in for one awesome roller-coaster ride. Starting right from Class X and all the way through collage, it is a saga of conquests and mind blasting victories. Challenges were many but for someone of my calibre - Childsplay. Well, I can't take all the credit for myself, I mean, women are dumb. And easy to play around. And not to mention real fun, if you know what you are doing. Well then, now that you know what's in store for you - Read and Enjoy. By the way, MCP stands for Macho Charismatic Playboy!
          As I told you before, it all started in class X, with this hot chick called... What was her name? Ummm... Absolutely no clue. Well, I most often referred to her as the Pizza Girl. The first time I saw her was in Pizza hut, and cupid was quick to strike. It was my first shot at trying to woo someone, so I do admit, I was nervous and didn't know what to do. After saying a prayer to all those fraud lover boys in the movies, who always end up getting the girl with their super genius master plan, I decided to make my move. The plan was simple - Make her Laugh.
          I was the lion stalking my prey, waiting for the right chance to pounce at the petite animal, and go for the kill. There was just one shot, and I had to get it right. I saw her ordering and one by one her table was filling. I was patient. That lion had to be. At one point I thought the chance was lost, but before she finished her lunch she ordered drinks, and I realized, my chance had come - she didn't get her straw. Swiftly I moved, grabbed a straw from cash counter and tossed it into her glass. It missed. As if like a dance move, I grabbed another straw in no time and tossed it again, this time from a safer distance. The straw bounced of the glass and fell on the ground. And just as expected, she laughed at my goof-up. I had scored!
          My next move was swift and well planned. I stalked her cautiously and got an idea of where she hangs out. She was a regular customer of a juice-shop in the neighbourhood, so I made myself one too. Everytime, she visited the juice shop, I was there. And very soon, I introduced myself, "Hey, I am Jithin. You know, you have really beautiful eyes!"
          Jackpot!!! It worked like a charm. How her cheeks turned red still gives me goosebumps. "Thank you", she responded with a giggle. I had made my first conquest. The next day I asked for her mobile number and the deal was closed. It was the beginning of a fascinating love-life. Hours and hours on the phone during the nights and many more in the corridors of our school. Oh, I forgot to tell, Pizza girl happened to be studying in my next class. Talk about a bumper Jackpot.
          That is the story of how a Casanova was born. Once I started dating Pizza girl, I earned the belief that for "The MCP" any girl was possible. I also realized that wooing a girl is not exactly nuclear physics, as matter of fact, it is a piece of cake. Atleast for me it is. By the end of class X, I had the phone number of almost every girl in my class and by the end of school, I had dated almost every girl in school.
          And how much they adore me, nobody stops loving me no matter what I do to them. I mean, I even told Pizza girl, once, how dumb all the girls were and how easy it is to sweep them off their feet, and she just laughed it off. Girls are dumb! And they are fun!
          Did you know that even this name - MCP, was actually something all the girls called me! Macho Charismatic Player. Girls are awesome yaar. And I am so much more awesome.
          But school just happened to be the trailer. A 5 minute preview of the action packed 2 hour movie. 'Cuz college life was a bang - MCP reloaded. That was the time, when I was at the epitome of charm and charisma (I still suspect if my roommate had a crush on me!)
          Although, I don't think much of her as a person (I don't think much of any girl to be honest), much of all the credit goes to my first real girlfriend, The Blanket Girl. Simple reason actually, I proposed to her while we went to buy some blanket for her. And what a fuss she made for one silly blanket, "This one is too soft, this one is too light, this one is not the right material". I still wonder whether I proposed 'cuz she looked amazing or just to get the hell out of the blanket shop. God! Girls can give you a headache with their shopping habits!
          Within a few months time, I made out with her too. That was seriously a blast man! I mean, I did have to make a sacrifice of not hanging out with any other girl for a while, but if you ask me, totally worth it! Any day, the highlight of my college life I would say. And I really owe Blanket girl for that one!
          And what else, you want to hear more. Let me just tell you this much. All of this happened in just one year of college. I had four years of it. Do the math. Well anyways, I have a little work to do, so tata bye bye for now. And yeah...

                                                                    - The End -

          And the problem with all the stories, is that men say it. Be it a book or a comic or a fairytale or a shortfilm or a full length movie. Men are the story tellers.
          Couldn't agree more.
          Good heavens sometimes it gets so annoying. You have seen it in the movies right. The hero makes his move, I dare say, if I were the heroine he wouldn't make it alive out of the movie. And all these stories only tell you only the guy's version. It's - well, what are you having?
          Coffee for me.
          Me too.
          3 cups of coffee. Well, what I was saying is, it's not just these stories that you read and all. Even the stories that float around are so... guyish. Makes me puke.
          It is most often that way. Is it not?
          Hell no!
          Hahahahaaa.....
          Seriously Priya. You haven't seen anything! Absolutely anything. It was so damn awesome what happened in school. When was it, sometime in the beginning of class X, I guess. The first time I saw him was when he was getting busted by his Maths teacher, saw it while I was walking from my classroom to some lab class. It was like, his teacher called out his name and asked him to come and sit in the front seat, and this jerk just bounced up on hearing his name and shouted, "Miss God Promise I didn't do it. I swear Ma'am I didn't do anything! God Promise!" My God, that is one joke I will share even in my last breathe!
          A serious loser that guy was. He used to try out these stupid tricks to all the girls and every single time his plans got so badly busted. The first time he tried to woo me was at Pizza hut. I was having lunch and for almost half an hour this jerk was staring at me. I seriously had a hard time not trying to laugh. And in the end he comes up to me and just tossed a straw into my class of soda. I didn't know whether he was trying to be cool or was he was trying to make me laugh or whatever, but he was seriously desperate and I couldn't help myself. I just started ROFLMFAO!
           And then he used to follow me around, staring me as if, I mean, I always wonder whether he thought I was blind and didn't notice him staring at me. And all of a sudden, one day he came up to me and was like, "Yeah, your eyes and really beautiful, blah, blah, blah..." Yaar, I really felt sorry for him.
          Hahahahaaa....
          Then just for the fun of it I gave him my phone number too. A lot of girls used to go out with guys and all that so even I wanted to know. What this dating and being in a relationship and all that is about. So, just gave it a try. And, let me be honest here, at first it was kind of OK. But then this guy started just, stalking me all the time, and going on and going on. Even that was alright. But then he started hanging out with other girls, flirting with everyone and it just got on my nerves at one point. But all that was actually tolerable, except one bloody non-sense that he said. Seriously crossed the line, that one! According to him, "All girls are so Dumb. It is so easy to sweep any girl off her feet", it seems. If I had a gun, he would be dead before he finished his sentence. At that moment, I laughed it off, but vowed to myself, "One day you will wish you were not born!"
          And the revenge story happen-
          Then college started and I got my first boyfriend.
          Alright then. Lets stick to chronology.
          Thank you. Yeah, my first boyfriend. First year of college and I was this innocent girl from a village, now in the big city, and.... It all started with this blanket. You see, back in the village I had this really cozy blanket and, mostly for nostalgic purposes, I really needed a very good blanket. Searched in a lot of places but couldn't quite find the right one. So one day I decided to go shopping and this wannabe Casanova said he would give me company. So, at that time I didn't know who he was, was he a player, what is a player and all that. I was really new to the big city and I didn't want to offend anyone, so I said ok! He gave me company, and while we were at the store he just suddenly asked, "Will you be my girlfriend?" I was so darn shocked, had no clue what to say, I just chocked, "Yes" or "alright" I have no clue what my words were. It just hit me like a bomb. 
          Then after that I thought about it and was like, I have come to the city, so let me just see what the culture is, what happens around here and thought maybe I did make the right decision. But I promised myself that studies would always come first.
          And that was not exactly possible with my "boyfriend" around. Phone call after phone call, sms over sms, he wouldn't let me read a book for 2 minutes. Such a headache. After every call I would decide, Ok let me end this. But then, Never quite gathered the nerve to break-up. Just let it go on and tried to adjust with it. 
          And then one day that bloody blundaleomite, rascal, son of a dash tried to kiss me.
          Really? What happened?
          Ugh... We were just in the library or something. I was minding my own business. He was, as usual, stalking me. And all of a sudden he just leaped onto me. I ran out of there like crazy. Blocked his number in my phone and cut him off completely. Jeez, I will never forget how I psyched out that day. Couldn't stop crying all night.
          Yuck!
          But things were just starting to get worse. He blabbed around the entire college that he made out with me.
          What the?
          I seriously considered suicide. But that's when -
          I entered the picture. Once college started, I totally forgot about school, to be honest. But then, through a lot of friends I had in their college, I came to know what was going on, and how that loser who thinks girls are dumb, was at it again. I re-took my vow. Had to teach him a lesson!
          So we both teamed up.
          And tried every single trick in our sleeve. Alas, let me tell you, nothing worked. That was really tragic I have to tell you, I mean, We tried everything. We hacked into his mail id and messed up. We asked a guy in his hostel to put Vim in his food. That plan was a big time flop. You know there is this powder that makes you itch like crazy. His roommate had to suffer. And another bunch of stuff, but almost everything backfired.
          Fish yaar. So sad!
          Until...
          My friend here dropped the bomb.
          Huh? What did she do?
          It all happened by mistake actually.
          She told a bunch of guys that he was having sex with his roommate and that's why the roommate was itching so badly!
          BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!
          Hahaha.... I know. It was like. They were - hahahaaa - asking something about whether we had  to do anything with the itching powder. And I was like, "No, it's because that kid is allergic to sex"
          And the climax seriously couldn't get any better. Even now, if you ask him how college life was, he will tell you that he made out with a girl in the first year and ask you to guess what happened the remaining 3 years. Those were seriously hell years for him. Not a single girl spoke to him after that rumour broke out. Poor fellow.
          So sad. I mean. Hahaha.... So awesome!
          Really. I mean, totally deserved it! To this day, if I am not wrong, even know he thinks that MCP, as we used to call him in school, stands for Macha Charismatic Player! The bloody Male Chauvinistic Pig!
          Hahahaaa.... Anyway girls, had a really great time. It is time for me to leave. My husband will come to pick me up anytime now. So see you later.
          Ohhh... That's so sweet.
          Yeah, I know, he is really nice. He cooks, cleans, drives me around, its really nice.
          Nice! What's his name?
          Jithin. Oh, wait let me get you a tissue. Huh, what just happened? Hey, did I miss something?

Love ;)

Bedtime Stories

Weekends are just empty if I don't update my blog. It doesn't matter whether I posted something yesterday or the day before, but a weekend update has become mandatory. Just doesn't feel good, so here goes. But before I get started, let me fill you in with the latest news.

First of all I express my deep disappointment caused by the highly reckless and inappropriate behaviour of the wild bug, who promised to make it to my place but has failed to do so. Secondly I would like to give a thunderous applause to, The Critic, my most amazing genius of a friend, who promised to review this blog 3 months back and has done an utterly despicable job in "finishing her work in time". Bravo! Next up, my Best Friend celebrated his 20th birthday this week and I feel so proud that I did my bit in making the day memorable. Bought him his favourite Pizza. Hope you had a Big Bang Birthday Bash Blast! And by the way, I also wanted to apologize to my dearest Lollipop Chechi for the repercussions of my previous post. Sorry Chechi! And to all my well wishers, today I cooked. Paneer Butter Masala. Pray for my soul, just in case!

Well there's your starter. Hope you enjoyed. Now feast on the main course:

The story happened a pretty long time back, but it is still stings my heart. Her face still makes me cry. It all started, well, this is the thing with real life stories; they don't have a proper beginning. Neither do they have an end. These stories are like line segments, a small part of an infinite line which you cut out using two points. You don't know where it started. It never even started. An eternal flow. Well, for our convenience let us start the story from the beginning of 7th standard. And the star of the story, let us call her Baby. I have my reasons.

Baby was smart, but not very often did that reflect in her results. Her results were, not bad, but not good either. It kept swinging, 50-50, khabhi khatta tho khabhi meetha! And that never bothered her. But there was this burning ambition within her, just like it is there in every student, not to get great marks, but to impress your parents. Make them proud, and I swear, to do that a child does not have limits. No boundaries, no ordeals will stop a child from making its parents proud. A mother's smile is an award that knows no value. And for that priceless reward Baby decided to give it her best shot. 7th standard final exams. Maths was her villain and if she could conquer that, victory would be hers.

And hence the epic war began, Exam vs Baby. She won all the battles in her way, procrastination was killed, television shows received a blind eye, video games were ignored and discipline was brutally enforced - some achievement for a 12 year old. A feat to be honest.

And then the day of her Maths exam arrived. You know how you feel, walking into the exam hall with your stationery, finding your place and getting ready for the paper, taking deep breaths as the bell rings and the invigilator begins to distribute the question paper, the thin sheet of paper falls on your table and you grab it in a flash.

Baby was stunned - to find the easiest questions of all stacked over there. Her face was glowing as she read her once dreaded enemy, question by question, taking no time to answer them all. Her pen raced through the answer sheet and with two hours remaining, the answer paper had been handed over to the invigilator! "Take that Mathematics!"

Baby rushed to her home to announce victory. "Amma the paper was so, so, so simple! I wrote it with my eyes closed. Finished it within an hour Amma! Hundred out of Hundred CONFIRMED!!!" And she did get her reward. Amma beamed at her.
"Here, see!" Baby pulled the question paper out of her bag and showed it to her Mother, the flipside of the paper facing herself. And as if with the push of a button, the radiant face dropped dead. Tears started to rush out of her eyes, Baby started to weep. "What happened?" Amma asked.
"Amma..." Baby struggled with her tears, "I didn't... I forgot... I didn't notice the questions on this side of the sheet!" Three questions carrying 6 marks each.

Her face, it still makes me cry.

BURP! For a blog, I guess that was a satisfying Main Course. You don't thing so. You are right, a meal is never satisfying unless you end it with a dessert. Enjoy:

This story is set in... Yesterday. Yeah, happened yesterday or the day before I guess. The star of the story is a 6 year old Macho Man! You know what, little children are perfectionists. You tell them something and that will be done 100%, right down to the tiniest detail. Every fragment of your instruction will be followed accurately, and the younger the child, the greater the accuracy. And among the lot, this child is a perfectionist. And he is going for his first ever Fancy Dress Competition, dressed up as the Father of the Nation, Mahatma Gandhi. He is a skinny kid and bald caps are easy to arrange, so victory assured.

Here are the rules, you are to dress up as a Freedom fighter, go to stage and speak about your character for 3 minutes, piece of cake!

Day of the competition, the costume is ready, the stage is set and the speech is good to go! And this little 6 year old is on fire. He may be just 6, but the stage is his friend and the mike does not scare him. How to speak in public has grown into his genes. You always start with a Good Morning and greet the audience, "Honourable Judges, respected teachers and my dear Friends. A very Good Morning to you all". Then you introduce yourself and tell the audience about what you are going to say. For a fancy dress competition you just introduce yourself, "My name is Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi and I am known as the Father of the Nation. Most people call me Bapu. I was born on October 2nd, 1869 in Porbandar Gujarat. I studied to become a lawyer and went to South Africa to practice as an Attorney. Over there I fought for the rights of the racially discriminated natives and against the British colonial rule. Later I came to India and fought for the freedom and unity of my country. I preached non-violence and advocated harmony among people of all religions. My greatest dream was to see India as an Independent Nation where all the citizens live in brotherhood." And you end your speech with a Thank you and bow for a Namaste! "Thank you!", he said and walked out of the stage. Oops, forgot to say Namaste!

For little kids, little things matter. After the competition, he had lunch from a restaurant and went home by noon for his nap. And in his sleep, he kept muttering, "Namaste! Namaste! Namaste!" One word! Who would have noticed. Would it ruin his brilliant speech? Doesn't matter. He didn't say it. He is just that far from perfection. And it disturbed his sleep. Don't know for how many nights. But he didn't get it right. You think that's no reason to cry? Think again.

And I thought I had issues. Well, I have served you a pleasant meal I believe. And now it is time for mine.  So till next time...

Thank you

Namaste!

Love

The Lollipop Girl and The Black T-Shirts

Procrastination - Why do you deny my readers their basic right to enjoy this blog? Well, if you think you are tough, think again! I climbed the Chembra Peak, all the way! If I can do that, then I can do anything; and crushing you into oblivion is the first thing on the list.
"I know what my next post is going to be", these were my first words after I got back from the 3.5 km hill. Well, I have not been true to my word, but I am not going to go back on it either. Enjoy:

Lollipop girl - Do they call her that because she nearly tore the skin off her best friend over a lollipop? Or is it because she looks like one? A really tiny person, whose head might be the only visible part of her body. Well, she was just the lollipop girl before. And then, Chembra peak happened. Now we call her a champion!

They still laugh at what one of the guys said when he first started walking along the foot of the mountain, "Are you sure this is trekking? It looks more like strolling!" It didn't take him a long time to take the words back and gulp it in! As if with the press of a button the entire landscape transformed. The path became narrow, forcing us to move in a single file; the road was replaced by a bunch of rocks scattered on another bunch of rocks which made up the floor, often intervened by the roots of trees which fenced our paths, protruding themselves in awkward shapes every now and then! After every five steps we saw a steep incline, which would take everyone a while to figure out. None of them went alone. Groups of 2-6, holding each others' hands and pulling each other up the hill. Traversing that was... fun!

And lollipop girl did a jolly good job leading the way, bouncing along the crooked paths. While some of the less fit folks fought to catch their breath, our protagonist was gliding along, singing her favourite song, "Arikathayaaro, Paadunondo atho ente manasaano?" The scenery around them was magic, as the trees fencing the path slowly made way for really tall trees, a little waterfall on the way and giant rocks which made excellent spots for refreshing, and posing for photos. The view was simply spectacular, and the sun was kind upon them. Not beating on the trekkers, but gently showering upon them. She did sweat, but as each salty drop slid down her face, her lips twitched upwards. And then she laughed.

A chorus would join in. Slowly everybody got the hang of it. They all bounced along; getting into the rhythm of nature. And then like a magnificent climax, the scary steep bowed down and the trekkers were greeted by the most beautiful body of water in the world - the Heart Shaped Lake. Shoes were just tossed in the air and it took them great restraint, not to dive into the cool pond. Everybody bathed their legs in the blissfully cold water. Just lay back on the dry grass, open a packet of biscuit, have some glucose powder and stare at the water for a while. The trekkers earned it.

Ever seen those movies which go on and on, a joyful, musical, funny, romantic journey which gives you a great time in the theatre. And all of a sudden the word, 'Interval' appears on the screen. Only after that do you realize that the nerve wrecking, adrenaline pumping, roller coaster movie had just begun! "How many of you are going the rest of the hill" All the way to the top. Another 1.5 kms.

Some of them gave up. The others were like, "We climbed 2 kms already. It's just another Kilometer and a half! Let's do this thing" And the same guy said once again, "This is so much easier than before. More like a stroll."

The mountain was literally perpendicular and your thighs had to be built out of cement to ignore the pain. There was no more rocks, just sand. And long grass for meagre support. You never got the right footing. You placed your foot 2 metres ahead of you, and the sand down below pushed it back half a meter. You needed to pull yourself up with the help of the grass. But then again, your palm had to be made of carbon fibre to not get cut.

"Don't come along? It just gets worse!", two black shirts leading the way shouted.
"Well, if you can do it, why can't way?" Lollipop girl shouted back.

30 of them dragged themselves through hell. 10 of them couldn't get past the trailer - they retreated. "Well, if you can do it, why can't we?" was replaced by, "They couldn't do it, how can we?" The girl who ran up the first half of the hill, started to have her doubts. She was panting painfully. "What to do?" thoughts popped up. Inertia carried her forward a little more.

They reached a steady rock, Lollipop girl along with her companions. She stopped to think, "How high is this thing? How much more do I have to climb?" She began to wonder, "It keeps getting harder! I am starting to feel hungry." She began to doubt, "Getting down is going to be much harder! I don't think I can do it?"

"You guys move on. I am getting down. I am all out!" She announced. The lollipop face had shrunk, drenched in sweat, which no longer made her smile.
"Hey, you made it till here! Let's go a little more!" Her friends insisted
"No, I don't think I can."
"Come on, you can do it!"
"You don't understand. How will I get down now? It is too hard. I am a girl."

She convinced her friends, who moved on only to leave with her words. Not encouragement. Not consolation. Just words, "Being a girl is not a weakness!"

Lollipop girl stared downwards, but she couldn't start. Her feet wouldn't allow her to move downwards. Her heart was flying, all the way to the top of the hill. Her conscience wouldn't allow her to stop. Just like falling in love, the classic brain vs heart battle ensued. Reason fought emotion. Exhaustion fought ambition. She sat on the rock.

Cold winds blew her long hair over the mountains. Beads of sweat were wiped off in the graceful breeze. The scenery down below could never be penned down. The Heart Shaped Lake, shining down below! She could see the entire city from up there; the hills around her, the lush greenery and a few buildings peppered down below. The sight would make anybody exuberant!

"What are you doing over here?" Another fellow trekker approached her. There was another bunch of them racing up to the top.
"Thinking of going back."
"You made it till here. We will go a little more. Come along!"
"It is difficult!"
"Well, if they can do it, why can't we?" Two black shirts moved over the mountain

The climb resumed. The real journey began! Very soon lollipop girl realised that half way through was nowhere close. But she didn't take one step backwards. The group of 7 pushed themselves through the sand and grass. They didn't pull each other up. Enthusiasm did. The Black T-Shirts did!

Thighs muscles wear torn apart. Knees caps were knocked off. Fingers were slashed by the blades of grass. But nobody stopped moving. The pinnacle was so close, Yet so far! "No it isn't far! It is just there. We are almost there" Lollipop girl told herself. She re-assured the group. Nobody believed her. "We are nowhere close", everybody knew. But they moved on.

And no rocks threatened them. No climb intimidated them. They pushed along, chasing the Black T-Shirts. "We are almost there! We can do it" Lollipop girl announced! They doubted her. "Still a long way!"

The heart shape still shone in the distance. They were on top of the world. The breeze re-assured them. "We are almost there" Lollipop girl shouted. "Yes we are", they knew it.

Pulling themselves over the big black rock, greeted by the cheers of the Black T-Shirts and the brilliant forest on the other side of the mountain. She had made it. They had made it. And just for the filmy effect, Lollipop Girl was the first girl to touch the pinnacle!

"Being a girl is not a weakness"

Names were inscribed on the rocks. Pictures were captured and songs were sung. Some even dared to go, "Oppa Gangnam Style!" There was not one drop of pain in anybody's body. Just energy! There was no sweat, there was no exhaustion. Just cheers. Accomplishment! They did it!

Well, to be honest, getting down was twice as worse. They were hungry, and the slope was scary! It was hard to get the right footing and the sand was too slippery. But nothing was impossible. They had proven it. 11 of them! Anything could be conquered.

And all the trekkers, happily got back to the foot of the mountain, and from there travelled back to the hotel after a lavish dinner. A good night sleep after a splendid day.

Anything can be conquered.

Love

Sound of Music - 2

That certainly is the sound of music! Your mother tongue. For me, my sweetheart Malayalam! I was inspired to become a writer for the first time in 10th standard, in my Malayalam class, as our was teacher taking taking a chapter on Balyakalasakhi, supposedly the best novel / short story ever written in Malayalam. Every bit as good as the Kite Runner I would say, and similar in a lot of ways too.

Studying Malayalam in 9th and 10th was something else; truly memorable. That literary exposure will always resonate in my words. Kumaran Aashan's Veenapoovu, Changampuzha's Manaswini and a host of other master pieces, learning and re-learning their nuances, memorizing the poetic devices, it was all much more than just exam preparation - I was in Love. And how can you not fall in love?

The first essay I was taught in 9th standard was about 'Mother tongue'. "Nothing greater that your mother, mother land and mother tongue. Protect it with your life". The fight for independence is not just a matter of self-governance. It is every bit as much about cherishing your own language, for our mother-tongue is tied up to our identity, which we are at a risk of losing, if not taken proper care of. That was the content of the essay, in a nutshell.

And ever since, there has been this debate, heating up in my head about how much a foreign language has invaded our lives. English, I am talking about. From school to work, right down to this blog, everything has been outsourced to English. The word outsource may seem to undermine things, but our dependence on this alien language, as everyone knows for sure, is nearing 100%, day by day. Ever spoke a complete sentence without a single English word in it?

But then again is it a curse? Is it something we have to worry about. Sanskrit gave birth to a bunch of languages - Hindi, Malayalam, Telugu, Kannada, etc. Hindi married Persian and Arabic to give birth to Urdu. And on the other side of the world, we had another bunch of languages, evolving, simplifying and at the same time, getting richer with heritage and legacy over time. And now English has walked into our lives, and very gracefully merging with our mother tongues. Technology has facilitated English script to take over our languages. Why this kolaveri and its likes have propagated Tanglish, Manglish and what not? And they are truly beautiful. It's a new era we are staring at, new words being added to our vocabulory every single day, words which are not citizens of a particular language. And as we expand our dictionary, language simply becomes more colourful. And this merger of language is synergistic, both languages develop and grow, eventually wiping out the lines that divide mankind.

You don't expect language to be the same forever. As a matter of fact, you don't expect language to be the same tomorrow! As we evolve, as technology and science evolves, or even at a much faster rate, language evolves. My mother tongue wasn't the same when I was born. But is the speed hurting us?

Language is more than a medium of communication, it is a medium for knowledge, history, culture and heritage. It is in-separably linked to our history and legacy, and hence our own identity. Evolution is one thing, conquest is another. As we take to sms and chats, are we producing a generation that cannot appreciate Veenapoovu and Balyakalasakhi. What will become of Kathakali, will it find a new home? Or will it be washed away in the tide of change? And what about the marvellous movies that we grew up watching. Will we be able to preserve them for the generations to come?

What about over songs? Do we appreciate the genius of the poet who compared the dilemma of a woman caught in a love triangle, to that of the dusk that is caught in between the dipping sun and the shining moon? Or are we destined to hear rap that NOBODY understands. I mean, how ridiculous it is to see the lover boy from a remote village wooing his dream-girl with rap?

Bottom line, have a balance. That is the bottom line of every debate that I have ever had, and it seems to be a sensible one. You don't want your language to remain archaic. You are not supposed to be a guardian of the dictionary, warding off any sign of threat. Open up and learn new words. Create new words, phrases, sentences and newer meanings. If it were all about rules and constraints, you wouldn't call it art would you. But there is this urgency for protection. When our legacy is at risk, we have the duty to lay down everything we have got, to fight for it. We are not mud-heads who just copy whatever happens out there in the west. We have our identity, our culture, which has reined the world all through history, and will continue to do so.

Jai Hind

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