Blogging

I wrote this one exactly one year back. The emotion is still the same and hence I am re-posting this. Enjoy:

One of the greatest mysteries in the world of blogging, an unanswered questions, something not thought of so much. Probably because we take it for granted. Or because nobody actually cares for it. Besides spending some quality time, not many really wonder what is the purpose after all. Let me phrase it more appropriately. What is blogging?

Earlier when I did not have any readers (not that I have many now), I thought it was equivalent to diary writing. As a matter of fact, my blog was so unpopular that it was more secretive than my real diary, hiding which was an ordeal. So, when I felt bored, or when I felt the urge to express, I posted on my blog. That is the purpose I believe then. To express yourself. You have a wide variety of blogs. And every author writes about what he/she is passionate about. Eloquently, writing your heart out... that is what blogging is all about.

On that note arise two points. What is the point of spending all your energy, if you don't have any readers? Doesn't the absence of readers destroy the entire purpose of writing? Or does it? Something that can be dealt with, with an elaborate explanation. I personally write because I enjoy it. And shouldn't that be the ideal object behind doing any job. Isn't that what drives any person at all to achieve something off-beat. To explore and experiment. Is it not the fun, the adventure that fuels us. But does that make the result insignificant? Speaking quite frankly, this blog has 10 followers and I hope two of them will read this post. Which means that all the thoughts, the ideas, the hopes, dreams, emotions or whatever it is that beats in this message.. just stays there. Ideas that don't flow are like a lost ghost. Singing around, wearing a white saree, under the full moonlight, with long plaited black hair and scary fangs. Wandering crazily. Seeking salvation. Isn't that what matters? Don't these ideas deserve to flow. True that many blogs do get readership, but how many. What is the magnitude of work that gets wasted. Would Harry Potter be this famous if J.K. Rowling had posted her story in a blog. People would turn off their computers because of the sheer size of the story. Even the response to Big B's blog is dull in comparison to the comments on FB or twitter. As a proportion of his actual fanfaronade, the number of comments is nothing short of a classic joke! The most saddening part is the quality of work the flows in this network. Marvelous! Stunning! Anyone would fall short of words.

The second point is the responsibility of each writer. What is the role of a blog as a part of electronic media? Is it just a platform of stressed writers to relax. Or is it something that has the potential to spark off a revolution similar to the one in Egypt? Writing over here, am I not dealing with a Nuclear Weapon? Or even worse! We all know the role of media in our social structure. Media is definitely more destructive, and even more constructive, than any other work of science. In my finger tips I hold the key to a great revolution. Am I using it responsibly? Am I utilizing the potential a blog offers? And am I utilizing it properly? A blog can be of a very personal nature. Or it can advocate against the most controversial political issue. Either one has to be dealt with wisely. And personally, I am a huge fan of those really personal notes that form a part your blog. They come from the heart.

I am addicted to social networking sites, but I have started to begin the accountability and credibility of such websites. They are immature. They are not elaborate. I strongly suggest politicians stay out of twitter. Their work cannot be dealt with 140 characters. Be expressive. Raise your opinion. You are a citizen of a free country! Your forefathers were not!

Love

An introspection

God knows what omen greeted me today morning! But nothing went right. I mean, how many people miss out on two outstation audits on the same day? Well, the entire week has been a rough patch as almost nothing in my goal-book is getting struck off, with cash vouching going at a pace which could lose to snail, a diet which will certainly make any dietitian puke (and some friends go red with envy) and a girlfriend who has accomplished in giving me chronic headache. Not the best way to start 2013, and certainly not the best way to greet my readers with the first post of the year. Sorry folks! Sad times these are.

But as some great soul said, when the going gets tough, the tough get fishing - don't they?

Ever wondered what is Ram Positive? One of my seniors happened to ask me that question the other day (thank you for noticing), but what about the rest of you guys.

Actually, it is based on a simple theory of mine. Call it theory, axiom, philosophy, vetti velai, chalu or anything you want. But this belief - it is the reason behind how I think and what I do; the DNA of my mind. "Everything that happens is good. And if they are not good, then they are GREAT - making way for something royal!" The negative things in life are just an illusion, a fragment of our imagination. Don't you think so?
[Special reference to some engineering students, who, by a tragic twist of fate, have to write a paper on accountancy! Not to mention all my buddies who are facing their CA exams, going through the most dreaded "Exam Leave" and those of you who are at an arm's length from the declaration of Final results. Yup, so now I have everybody pissed off by becoming a boggart (refer Harry Potter if you are wondering what that is)]

An introspection 
"Whenever you feel alone, just remember. The great kings of the past will always be there to guide you. And so will I" One of the best dialogues from my all-time favourite animated movie "The Lion King". What better way to reflect attitude?

Do you believe in Destiny? I do!
I believe that there are somethings that are out of your... Jurisdiction.
Somethings, that you shouldn't bother about.
Pluck that thought from your mind and let it sway in the dancing wind.
Let it float, across the 7 seas,
Because some other wind will get you a better deal,
From across the world.
Let nature takes its course, and have faith.
Understands that:
"Everything that happens is good. And if they are not good, then they are GREAT -
Making way for something royal!"
And cherish it. Fall in love with the trees and flowers,
Because they are nature's children, and they will take you places - for sure

There was a time, in the history of Ram Positive, when I used it like a personal diary. Not because I did not have another personal diary, or disliked writing in pen, but because it was so secretive. NOBODY, absolutely nobody read the blog, it reached a point that this was safer than my personal diary, for there was always a risk of spies in the latter. But things have changed a little now.

And I owe that to Suri & Co, to every article over there - Thank you fellows for reading Ram Positive. Trust me, you people are some serious inspiration (especially those who keep enquiring if I have updated and what my next post will be). And as a tribute, let me recall every moment I spent with you this year.
 1. New Year BASH - Sanjeev's Birthday Party. Sam's Pizza was truly amazing, and I feel really happy that we were able to give our very own CA "The Birthday of His Life!" And also put a decent hole in his wallet. That is after all, what we do best.
 2. Balmer Stock taking - My dear Thriuvanmiyur friend, that little godown which, although was no bigger than a primary school classroom, was a joy. And thanks to the Big Guy who sent me there in the last minute.
 3. Wild Bug's Visit - That was a surprise! Fun times, we can only hope they last forever. Hey, and don't forget they way we played with our little sister! Poor girl, she got seriously annoyed it seems. And to you my little junior, Laugh Out Laugh kiddo!
 4. Kumaran Systems - You know what they say, keep the best for the last! Totally 4 seniors gave me a great learning experience, but special mention to 2 amazing buddies, who have been insisting for the past one week that I write about them in this prestigious arena! Well, here you go! Enjoy the moment! But seriously guys, you rock! Just as much as Planet Yumm (wow, almost missed that one out)

Hmmm.... Somebody mentioned about "Sad Times?" Yeah right!!!

Love

Way to go - 2012

If somebody thought the emotion might dry up after a week, somebody was wrong. With over 2,500 pics already collected, and almost as many more yet to be collected, with injuries yet to be healed and stories yet to be shared, the Suri & Co trip for 2012 to Wayanad is still a BANGG in our hearts. It will be etched in our memories for as long as we live, I am sure. And it will keep us all close together, for much longer than that. Everybody is sure!

Here's the Ballad, that sings of our days in God's Own Country. Hold on folks, for if you are familiar with the roads in Kerala, you will very well know that this one is a long and bumpy ride!

Day 1
It was the day we decided, that even if we spend the rest of the week sleeping in our hotel rooms; the time, the money and the energy we spent to go to Wayanad will be Vasul. Such was the magnificence of the Soochipara Waterfall!
But it will be unfair to start Day 1 from Day 1 itself, because the story actually starts from the night before. My buddy and I made it to Chennai Central right on time and the sight we saw opposite Saravana Bhavan was simply exuberant. Around two and a half dozen of our office folk, clustered around the luggage, wasting no time to pull out their cameras and click everything in sight, chattering, high fiveing and getting ready to rock and roll. But that was of course was just the trailer. The movie started with the train pulling away from the station. That was when the "screaming restriction" was lifted - and the wildebeests were let free.
We had a photography marathon for starters, and main-course included a game of anthakshari on one side and one of truth or dare on the other (which was indeed satisfying, in terms of its share embarrassing truths and dares, much worse - if you know what I mean). And for dessert we had, what I would like to call... ummm... let's just call it "TOOTHPASTE" (For those readers who weren't there for the trip, it was a game were a genius among us decided to apply toothpaste on the face of anyone who was sleeping that night)
Breakfast at Mysore, from where we caught a bus to Wayanad. Let me tell you friends, I will never forget that bus trip - ever! That was the ride where I tore away my inhibitions and let the dance floor on fire! Well, that was what I thought I did. At a later stage of the story, one of my friends was kind enough to say that I suck and also call me a "left-footed dancer". However, fate had something else in store for my brother - Mr. Red Chutney, who also marked his debut in the aisles of the very same bus. I should also thank a couple of wonderful girls who were kind enough to share their dancing secrets, and also rocked the stage!
And then came Soochipara! I will just say this much - you don't have to die to go to Heaven! One kilometer walk in a narrow slope, fenced with exotic plantation, feasting on scenic beauty as nowhere in the world, and the majestic waterfalls to top it up! Cloud 9 was too low, my friends, as the water pounded against my spine, as I swam on rocks and breathed in the.... I don't have a word for what I saw from there. Looking at the water fall, from below the waterfall. What do you call that?
I said goodnight after watching Batman-Begins in my room.

Day 2
As much as I hate him, I have to thank James Bond incarnate for being punctual and waking me up on time. Not to mention my bro who accompanied me to watch Manichithrathazhu - the best movie ever! There is another bro, whom I am not mentioning right now, as he features prominently in Day 3.
Well, frankly, Day 2 was boring. Except the climax..... shhhh, I will say that in the end. We went to Lakdi view point and saw the chain tree, went boating, again went boating, saw an elephant and a Dam. Hey, don't forget the swing! Man, that was a riot!
And we did miss our ever enthusiastic cameraman. And I have to say, without you, the days were a little less fun. Wish you good health my bro! Same with you girls who skipped Day 3. Next time, we will drag you along and you better be prepared!
And now for the climax - Campfire! Boy, did we dance like wild men. This time again, I wasn't shy. The fire dazzled, just like our trip.
One more thing, this day saw an improvement. Because at the end of our first day, our bus had nearly turned into an ambulance (thanks to a cute little puppy - hey, don't get annoyed, I did say cute). On this particular day, we had no casualties. Everybody was in good health. You needed that. For what was in store for you, was something you needed a tough gut to digest!

Day 3
This my friends, is a whole new story. It is the story of inspiring Black shirts, of how we learnt that your gender is not your weakness, of a song "If you can do it, so can we!", of giving a helping hand (Hey little sister. Let me tell you, you were the one who gave me the helping hand all along), of pushing your buddy to his limits and much beyond (My dear chappal friend. We made it with nothing but will-power) and most of all, it is the story..... Where determination takes front seat! The blood that pulsed through our veins when we made it to the top, it was red with glory!
And don't forget how much fun it was. Trekking wasn't just about a breathless exhausting walk. The journey till the heart-shaped lake, through the wild and narrow road, we couldn't see anything beautiful over there. Because we were standing at the most beautiful spot!
(Special mention to our cameraman for the day! And to Dilli Wala who helped us all, up and down)
Ahoy, not to mention the game of dumb charades that night, or as I like to call it, "The night I was cursed by the angels" (pun intended)


Day 4 
The Grand Finale. On the down side, two of our colleagues went off to their home towns. On the up side, one of the girls missed her bus the previous day. Or was it the other way around? Well, everybody was happy. And we made it, to probably the most exotic spots in our itinery - The Kuruva Island!
Let me just run you through the highlights of the day - Chechi who was freaked out by monkeys, got a pic of my favourite actor, had a bloody good swim, a new record lung power of 85 second underwater (awesome dude!), another record lung power of 4 seconds underwater (forgot if it was skinny or Mr. Toothpaste. Well, both of you were useless and I strictly advice you to stay away from water!), sun-bath (you HAVE to try it... And thank you Spiky, for the idea!) and personally, sitting on wet pants in the bus for over an hour!
Yeah, that was pretty much it. The place was just fantastic. And I have to appreciate them for maintaining the island in such fashion, the authorities have done a brilliant job in flourishing tourism and at the same time, preserving the riverine island, as if away from any human intervention at all.
The rest of the bus trip was sleepy. Mr. Skinny showed off his dancing skill (which was, I must say, impressive)! Or was that on some previous day? I don't know. Special mention to two baby elephants (no offence) who executed the Gangnam style better than PSY. Mr. Red Chutney will be awarded the best dancer, while the wild bug will be the Best Sleeper of the trip.
Sambar Mami and our Manager were simply unbeatable at Anthakshari and they shall be crowned the woman and man of the match respectively. Ummm... I am totally running out of nick-names, especially for all my akkas, one of whom I owe an apology for my disastrous prediction by palmistry, and another who insisted that I don't call anyone akka, but my friend, that is a promise I cannot keep. And my dear chechis who cajoled me for the window seat all along, cajole being a drastic understatement, love you a lot! And one of them made it to the top on Day 3 - High Five!
Woah! How could I forget the captain of the game. THE TOUR OPERATOR. Machaa, you did a fantabuloustically superb job. Awesome work. You totally deserve a para for yourself! Hats off Bhai!

And then the trip, back home! Well, just one more thing to say. Two actually. First of all, hey fellow blogger, I made it first! And most importantly...

WAYANAD TOUR KKU ORU O PODU!

SURI & CO KKU ORU O PODU!!!

Love

The Leaking Lilac

Good Morning folks!

Welcome to the story of 'The Leaking Lilac'.
Once upon a time, in a little town in a big world, a baby was born.
A little baby which cooed and cried, and everybody went, "Awww..." when it smiled.
The baby grew up to become a young child, filled with energy, bouncing about - the Midas of smiles.
The child learned what it was taught.
Whatever it saw, whatever it heard, was engraved in a heart, pure as gold.
This child could grow up to become an athlete, or a musician, or an actor.
Or maybe a lawyer. Or a Doctor. A dentist maybe? Or a vet!
Or a terrorist. A murderer. A rapist.

Gang rape in Delhi. Girl battles for life:
We shed our tears for you. We take a moment of silence for you.
You will be in our prayers. May the world never witness this again.

I was angered when I heard about the tragic incident in Delhi. It was a tragedy. A disaster. And the nation mourns for her. My fingers tremble as I write these words. Reading about it in the newspaper was just the most horrifying thing to do. The brutality of it, it pains my heart, overwhelmingly. Words can't express sympathy. Maybe silence can. Could you all please take a moment of silence and prayer? Maybe it will bring some peace? Maybe such a thing won't happen again. Just a moment of prayer for her. For women. For peace.

Ah! Well, life goes on doesn't it? Yes, we have to go on. So let us take a laugh, a laugh for the magnificent future we have up ahead and move on. Well, for those who are reading this, it may not be so magnificent after all, because this article just got started! Fasten your seatbelts!

Right now, I am sick to my gut; the entire nation a.k.a all my Facebook friends are clamouring for the hanging of those responsible for the gang rape in Delhi. Well most of them are. Some of them suggest more brutal measures like castrating them, or chopping them into tiny-tiny pieces and keeping them just alive, drowning them in boiling oil and what else? Well, first of all I appreciate the creative fervour of those master-minds who came up with these amazing ideas! Bravo! And second of all, could you just shut up and get back to your work? And if you have no work, then go the sleep. Or read my other posts in this blog; trust me its worth it (Whoa! Somebody was right. I am turning into a blog marketing maniac!)

All jokes aside, there are things to be asked. Things to be talked about. And everybody fighting for death must introspect. When has killing ever solved the problem? Has death ever been a cure? Who came up with this crazy idea that death can be 'compensated' with death? That rape can be compensated with torture? An eye for an eye! What a mantra!? Or do you believe that a strict punishment will instill fear in the minds of others and thereby reduce crime? You are going to fight crime with fear? Fight violence with violence?

When I started writing this article, I did a brief research on Chauri Chaura. All of us have learnt that story in 8th std Social Studies, how 22 policemen where killed in a place called Chauri Chaura in UP and the Non-Cooperation movement was called off. I don't want to deliver a history lecture as I had intended to in the first place. But just a gentle reminder of how the greatest battle in history was fought, the battle for India's independence. How we never compromised with peace and tolerance. How we held strong to ahimsa. The fabric of our society and any stable society in the world in built on non-violence (want to google "The Arab Spring"?) Ahimsa is not just about winning independence, or getting rid of the British. It is the understanding that only through love, compassion and tolerance will we be able to carve out a better society. In 1947, we did not just earn our independence, but a much deeper knowledge of how inevitable non-violence is. And every individual, who adds up to the society, that makes the nation, is answerable to the nation. Every action of ours tells a story. A story that subsequently shapes the society. the choice is always ours. Violence or Non-violence. Vengeance or forgiveness?

Why does crime happen? Why do people kill? Or rape? Are these killers or rapists born evil? Are these people God's special creations just for the purpose of ruining lives and destroying the society? What is the colour of their blood? What are their hobbies? What is their favourite food? What is their favourite sport? Ask these questions, and answer them yourself. Who is the criminal? Who is responsible? And can he or she be forgiven?
 Enjoy!

Want to hear the story of the Leaking Lilac again?
Once upon a time, in a little town, in a big world, a baby was born.
A little baby which cooed and cried, and everybody went, "Awww..." when it smiled.
The baby grew up to become a young child, filled with energy, bouncing about - the Midas of smiles.
The child learned what it was taught.
Whatever it saw, whatever it heard, was engraved in a heart, pure as gold.
This child could grow up to become an athlete, or a musician, or an actor.
Or maybe a lawyer. Or a Doctor. A dentist maybe? Or a vet!
Or a terrorist. A murderer. A rapist.
Whatever is written in the child's heart, will resonate to the society.
Kill the terrorist? Well, that might send a strong message to the society about the guts of the government. But every killing will write a different story in the child's heart. Chauri Chaura wrote one. The shootout at the school in US wrote one. Killing the killer will write another.

What story are you going to write?

Love

Stuck

I am stuck, between the past and the future!

Hello folks! Been a while I guess. I have been a little busy; read "The Casual Vacanacy" by JK Rowling, went to Kumbakonam for an audit, so couldn't update my blog for a while. Around two weeks I believe. Anyhow, I am back, and so are you I hope. Enjoy!

I am stuck, between the past and the future!

Really annoying. Incredibly frustrating, this overwhelming nostalgia.
As memories sweep through my mind, taking me to another Universe, that fills me with awe - the past
How many memories, sweet-bitter, but each so delicious. I desperately crave

Internation Indian School, Riyadh - IISR - What I called my Azkaban
An abominable place, but today, I am in love with it. I miss it
8 periods a day. A lunch break after the fourth, and Salah break after the seventh
Sometimes I went to the football ground, for a game of catcher-catcher
We sat around and had our indoor fun, for Salah breaks
And those P.Ed periods that I bunked to lazily sit in class
Those monumental home-works, that we competed to finish in class itself; for a tranquilizing day at home!
(How much I wrote in those days. How many notebooks! 
The smell of those books, still floats in my nose)
Those amazing teachers, whom I can never shower with enough praise
Their love and affection, their care and their faith, I owe them my life 
They taught me the definition of 'awesome', something my friends might not have agreed with
But I was awesome
And my best friends - Pakkaran and Sasi!
We discovered the mysteries of teenage, and ventured into the world that 'adults' monopolized
And we did make - Award Winning Jokes!
And a bunch of other friends, 'Wallahi' their Malappuram accent has always fascinated me
10th Board exam, and the tragic study leave that preceded it
(Mugging, revising and mugging again. Until the words flow out of you, in a smooth wave, like glistening water)
And I loved it all! 

There was the day, that I did my business in my pants
There was the day, when my classmates tweaked RAMON to suit their convenience and earn my umbrage
They treasured it alright, my umbrage
There was the day, when I got beat up (Now when I look back, I think I asked for it)
There was the day, where we ventured out after school, to the shopping malls and the pastry shop
Celebrating the freedom after exams...
And I love each and every one of them! I miss them terribly

Reciting poems, reading for the class, elocutions and debates
It saddens me, that that Universe is away from me.
That I shall never be there. Ever again

St. Thomas Central School - The love of my life
It brought out the best in me
As our Principal always said, you come in here as boys and leave as men
I learnt patience. I learnt to be positive. I learnt optimism
I learnt to speak in public. Even better,
I learnt to speak to girls (That, is another story altogether!)
I learnt, to keep in touch. With those angels, whom I cannto dream to loose!
I learned to love, because everything around was just so precious
2 years over there, seemed like 20! Totally worth it

School life is over, and it has been 2 years. Now as I revisit the past, my eyes swell up
When I went back to IISR, to visit my teachers, 3rd std, 5th std, 6th and 7th std. 
Most of them remembered me. Some did not
As I walk through those magnificent playgrounds of STCS, and suck in its beauty
Nostalgia - you torture me!

Not just school. Remember those summer vacations, where you did nothing!
Most of mine where in Ambalapuzha. Where I fancied climbing trees and playing cricket.
In that vast field that can blow your mind! Swimming in ponds, afraid of frogs
And the vacation in Riyadh? 12-12 sleep. Days where I didn't know AM

19 years of past, how can I recite you in 19 words. 

But wish that was it. As I seek to delve into the past, another Universe pulls me in
The Future
It is mysterious, it is powerful and it is inevitable!
If nostalgia was torture, curiosity is the cruciatus curse!
What does this world have in store for me? Where is the roller coaster taking me?
I don't know what lay ahead, and I am dying to know
What happens tomorrow? Or the next year? Or 10 years in the future? Just show me a glimpse?
Just one glimpse

A tug of war is going on. These mighty worlds, sucking me in
And I am stuck. In between them

I am stuck, between the past and the future!

Love

SURPRISE!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMMAA!!!!!!!

Disclaimer: This Blog post is specifically meant for my my dear, sweet Amma! If anyone else happens to see this, please scroll down for my latest story and other blog updates.
Thank your
Enjoy!!

Hey Amma!!!
Happy Happy Birthday!!! So, it seems you have found your surprise gift. I assume you have searched a lot, and worked hard for this present. Well, if not, I don't mind, for all the wonderful, beautiful and spectacular things you have done for me, isn't this the least I can do!?

As a writer I have a policy, never write about my parents. Whenever I express gratitude, I don't mention my parents. Because I know that even the epitome to literature cannot express a fraction of the love I have for you. And you know very well that not a thousand poets from across the seven continents, not even the pinnacle of literary prowess can tell the world how much you have cared for me and how much you love me!

But today, I make an exception. On this birthday of yours, let me make an attempt to pen down my gratitude for you. No! Gratitude is the wrong word. Such an understatement. What is the word? Devotion? Nah, too melodramatic. Affection? Nah, too childish. You see, I am already fumbling for words! This is a tough job, you have to give me credit for that. Anyway, what is the right word? Ahhh... Love! Good enough...

Thank you Amma, for tirelessly giving me company as I said all the question and answers in Hindi. Remember correcting my poems and essays, the one's I used to write before every exam as practice. Let me ask you Amma, how much patience did it take to go through all that again and again. Correcting it, and making me write again. And more importantly, after every attempt, you used to tell me what all were the mistakes. You used to teach me how I could avoid them. You used to write with that red pen of yours, all the mistakes and make me study harder. Every mark I have earned, in my school life and in CA, it is all for you Ma!

Teaching me school work was just the tip of the ice-berg. You taught me how to be a nice boy. You taught me how to behave, you to be polite, how to be nice and how to treat everyone. Even today, when I go shopping and buy my stuff, I remember to smile at the shop-keeper. You taught me that Amma. You taught me not to hurt people. You have taught me, how wrong it is to hurt somebody, and you taught me to be careful not to offend anybody, ever. I will be careful Amma.

You taught me to make friends. I always remember you telling me, "Have a lot of Girlfriends. And a lot of boyfriends too. Everybody should be your friend!" If I have friends, it is because of your lessons. And let me tell you, I have some amazing friends.

But my best friend of course, is you only. My ultimate secret keeper. Is there anything I cannot tell you? You are just so amazing. Even on my exam eve, you pull me out of the study room to show me if there is a nice movie on TV. You let me know, even if I forget, that the cricket match is going on. You proposed to keep the TV, and the computer, and the video and what not, in my room itself! You insisted that I buy a new mobile phone. You bought me an MP3 player even when I said I didn't want one. You ordered Pizza to surprise me!

Oh my God! Amma, I can go on and on and on and on, till the end of the Universe. And I will. I will surely! Before I loose control of myself, and set off into a mega-drama-spree, let me sign off. With lots of Love! Really missing you!

Take care Amma

Love

Chennai at night...

Here's another story. Enjoy - Chennai at Night:

Ever wondered why the tree rustled in the dark. Ever wondered what that voice was. That inaudible one, but you could swear you heard it. That eeriness and spookiness that darkness gives you. Well, it's all thanks to me. Who am I? Why, I am you humble neighborhood ghost!

Don't worry. I am not in the neighborhood anymore. As a matter of fact I am just leaving my hometown; after 17 years of life and 8 months of death. Figured no village deserved more haunting than that. Not that I freaked the hell out of anyone or anything. I was a harmless fellow. But I did have my share of fun. In life I was a good boy. A diligent student, who never went after any mischief. Well, now you are dead. Whom are you going to impress? 

But not everybody has the same idea of fun. That is totally unfair. I mean when the naughty child breaks the pots in your kitchen, it is cute. When I do it? What kind of havoc you make!? And the worse part is people know it's me. They scream, "Oh! It is Akhil's ghost! We have to get rid of him! JEEM BOOM BAM!" They all knew I was a nice kid at school, then why the hell are they afraid of me? Anyways, that got totally boring in the end and I decided to flee. Find some place new to haunt. Hopefully someplace with a sense of humour. 

Didn't I tell you about the rustling in the dark. I don't know what you feel about it, but I really enjoy it! And Heaven, how many trees do you have in Kerala! Amazing! Beautiful! I have always known its beauty during day time, the lush greenery, those splendid lakes, magnificent paddy fields, grasslands speckled with cows having the fiesta and the milkman his siesta. And now I cherish its beauty at night. Swimming through the ice cold lake, brushing through the mid-night trees, listening to the songs of the nocturnal, and scaring the crap out of every Homo sapien on the way; that is Life. No! That is death.

How I died you ask? Car accident! You see, how much God has given Kerala, that much humans have managed to take away from it! Cut down trees, build roads and do whatever you want on it. Throw you garbage on it, spit on it, piss on it, and when it comes to driving, kill on it. I was one of the victims. Never went to find out who the killer was,what good would that yield? His conscience will serve his punishment. He or she might not even know what happened. You know how they mix drink with drive. Wish those nocturnal's ruled the cities instead of humans. Well, if you consider mosquitoes nocturnal, I guess they do.

Did you know, that blind people can hear better and deaf people can see better. When God takes something away, he gives you something in return. God took my life away; well, God or that stupid fellow needs to take driving lessons, but he did give me a bunch of awesome super powers in return. And he means God, just to clarify. Why so, feminists may ask. Just to annoy you actually! I don't know God's gender. You expect the dead to know all this stuff. Well, I have been too busy haunting people to find out. Hey, don't blame me! I died at the age of 17, 12th board exams just got over, I still have a LOT of fun to have!

I was talking about the super-powers God gives the dead right? Well, one of them is super-speed. Other's include invisibility, mind reading power and many more. Death kinda rocks actually. I laugh my head off when I see people crying for the dead. Only they know who much fun they are having.

And using that super-speed, in a matter of minutes, I reached Chennai. Random choice! Was a huge Rajni fan! And let me tell you, it was kind of like how Rancho and Farhan went to Raju's house in 3 idiots. All of a sudden, everything changes to black and white. Well, in the particular case, the transition is from lovely and beautiful, to horrifying and ugly. Been through the streets of Chennai at night? When all the pollution of the day settles down, and the ghosts wake up! Even I felt haunted.

"New to the city huh?" A fellow ghost asked me. I spoke too soon I guess. I don't know how he looked for ghosts don't have looks. Yes, ghosts don't have fangs, they don't drink blood, and they don't wear old shabby clothes. Although this new friend of mine seemed to satisfy all the conditions. He did creep me out.

"Yes, sir" I blurted. I was afraid he wouldn't understand English or Malayalam. But he didn't have to. Ghosts can read minds, remember.

"Sir? Well, respect always sounds nice. Anyway, what I need right now is some sleep. So GET LOST!" He sounded rough. And I got angry! But I wasn't stupid enough to shout at some strange person. And moreover, I too was pretty tired. Maybe he could find me a place to sleep. And yes, ghosts do sleep.

"Oh, okay! Well, I am new to the city and don't know the place. Could I come over to your house?"

"Oh sure. You are always welcome to my 'house'. Would you like to use the bath-tub, or maybe have a shower before you sleep? I even have a jacuzzi, would you try that out." Epitome of sarcasm. I could smell the bitterness in the old man's voice. "Dude, since as long as I could remember, I have been sleeping over here. On this road! The new prince of the city may find it hard to believe but this is how things are." And no he didn't say 'dude'. I just made it up. For effect you see. 

But even I couldn't sustain the humour. I could almost see the old man's red eyes, and tired body. His rib-cage showing, clothes shabby and torn, hair undone. I could his stench from his voice. His words stabbed my heart, as if stopping it for the second time. "You might find this ghost business difficult. You might find it hard to stay in your home-town and might have to run away. You might keep running away for the rest of eternity, not finding salvation anywhere! But I don't feel anything strange about this. I have always been dead. There was never any purpose. And there was nothing I could do! I have always been worthless. And now, so are you."

"You are wrong!" I shouted. Was it the conviction in me, or the fear that he might actually be telling the truth?  But I couldn't bear his words. 

"Get lost you quirt! Leave me alone..." He didn't have to complete his words before I dashed from the place. Vanished from his vicinity. But however fast I moved, I couldn't ignore what lay around me. Everywhere people lay on the pavement, curled up under a tattered blanket. Men and women.

There was water on the road. Gutters were open, pavements were dirty, the floor was dusty. The stink of latrine was there in every corner. And as saw each blanket, my mind raced back to voice I spoke to. Reluctantly I reached into his mind and saw glimpses of his life. How he lived in the streets all his life, the odd jobs he did, and the contempt with which everyone treated him, no matter what he did. Be it work, be it stealing or be it begging -  he was scum. And he was convinced of that. 

These thoughts troubled me. Ugh... they didn't trouble me. They tortured me. Raped me again and again. To imagine being worthless. Being unable to do anything. Was that where I was going? Pulling silly pranks and scaring village folk, was that all I could do now? Years of imagination and ambition. How I had excelled in school. What all I wanted to achieve. All of it was reduced to this? Worthless! Useless!

The wind went through me. I had stopped moving. Everything stopped moving. And I started to walk back. What was it you call it? Introspection. All of us, youngsters, chanted all the time - Nothing is Impossible! We admired challenges. We looked forward to obstacles that life threw at us, waiting to opportunities to do the unthinkable. We had always known, that we were the west wind. Nothing could outrun us! 

I flashed towards to electric train that ran across the city. It was mostly empty at that time of the night. But who I was looking for was in the train. A blind boy singing praises of the almighty God. And his mother, holding him by his elbow, bent over herself, guiding her son through the train and collecting the blessing that the benevolent passengers poured upon her. She was the wife of the voice I had met. And he, his son.

The blind boy was my same age. He walked in his father's footsteps. Worthless scum! "How are you?" I whispered in the boy's ear. "Who is that?" The boy asked back in his mind. Blind people could hear very well. 

"I am..." I stuttered a bit, but the right words rolled out, "I am your conscience"

"What is that?" The boy asked innocently.

"I guide you", I whispered into the boy's ear. And I swear on everything good and true in the world, he smiled when he heard that. "Your mom seems to be doing a decent job already. And I cannot do what she does. But I can help you out"

"My mother is tired and weak. She won't be with me for long. I want her to take rest. And fed well"

"I will guide you" I could not let him be worthless.

"I will help you" I could not let him be scum.

"You will be happy. I promise!" I entered the boy's mind and occupied a tiny corner of his brain. I became his conscience.

I had to make a few sacrifices. Just like the boy, even I lost sight. I lost all the memory of worldly knowledge, like how to use a computer, how to speak English and all that. But only as his conscience could I speak to his heart. And I spoke to his heart. Filled it with imagination and ambition. I filled his mind with colours. And he saw many colours, much more than a normal person could see. For he wasn't limited by his eyes. I inspired him. Taught him that there is more to the world. That great things could be done. I convinced him, that he could rule the world if he wanted. I forced him, to use every last drop of his potential. Everyday, every second, I encouraged him. Every time the world said he was scum, I asked him to prove them wrong. I supported his adventures. I cared for him when he suffered. I protected him, when they tried to corrupt him.

What happened from there on is an entirely different story? That is his story. The story of the blind boy, who reached greatness. I can only tell you two things; 

I did the impossible. And we both lived...

Happily Ever After

Love