Revisiting the Royal Journey

I had started writing this blog on being bowled over by the beauty of the Royal Journey of Lord SreeRama from his abode in Triprayar Temple to Arattupuzha where the annual gathering or Pooram of all the deities of the nearby temples are held. It is said that Lord Sree Rama presides over this gathering of Gods and is a sight to behold.

A few posts later, my blog got discontinued, though my friends used to encourage me to continue writing it.

And now after a gap of almost an year, I am re-starting it, almost as a thanks giving promise made to Lord Sree Rama himself for having answered our prayers when we needed it the most.

It was more than a coincidence that the first trip I and my daughter made after recuperating from her recent illness was to participate in the very same Royal Journey. Though I had to undertake the driving of the 2 hour journey it was as if Lord Rama himself gave me all the power and there I was, breezing through the highway.

All through the Royal Journey, the deity is welcomed with floral showers and fireworks. This time, I too waited eagerly with my daughter to welcome the great Lord with our "Poovu para" or the floral welcome. As the Lord and his entourage majestically walked through the floral showers, my eyes welled up, not just by the awe inspiring sight alone but more with the deep sense of gratitude we felt for all the blessings my family had got at the time of need.  

Thattathin Marayathu - A Hero is born

Finally Malayalam Film lovers can celebrate the arrival of a Hero who can match his histrionic skills with his Bollywood counterparts. Whether it be the angst of a lover bewitched by the beauty of his lady love or it be the subtle comic strains of a commoner, Nivin Pauly has encapsulated it all through his out of the world performance in “Thattathin Marayathu”. Long after you leave the theatre, his performance haunts you. In Malayalam, the films usually leave a lasting impression either by strength of its story or by its innovative script . But Thattathin Marayathu has neither of these strengths to bask upon and it is entirely Nivin Pauly who carries the film forward. It is rare when films are made focusing entirely on an upcoming actor and Vineeth Sreenivasan has rightly proved that his confidence in this young star is well placed.

The director’s second venture has repeated the cast of his maiden film and they have once again proved that they are worth a ton. . The transformation of Nivin Pauly from an angry boy in “Malarvadi Arts Club” to a passionate lover in ‘Thattathin Marayathu”, complete with a makeover leaves you completely in awe.

Though criticisms abound regarding the choice of the female lead, Isha Talwar, the film goes on to prove that she has played her part well as required by the script which portrays an orthodox Muslim girl. The story is centred around its Hero and his infatuations with his lady love and she is equally mysterious to him as well as to the audience and it only adds a special charm to the narration. Within the limitations of the family background, Isha is required to play a subdued girl Ayesha who is as religious as can be but having enough faith in her God to believe that He will see her through her trials and tribulations of being in love with a Hindu boy.

The simple story is backed by comic one liners timed to perfection. The music of the film has enthralled one and all by its lyrical quality. The film is sort of a musical by the manner in which songs abound in it. The love and longing oozes in every song. Vineeth Sreenivasan can indeed be proud of steering clear his latest flick from being a mediocre tearjerker and putting his daring romantic tale with a fanciful happy ending in the league of a classy one.  

Family First

It was a hartal day. An unexpected, unofficial "holiday" thanks to petromagic. The magic which ensured that when everything is on the downslide in this country, there is atleast one commodity on the upward swing.  So there I was, with quite a lot of unplanned time at my disposal wondering how to utilise it optimally. The confusion soon ended when I received a call from my mother asking me to trace out the telephone number of my friend, a doctor. 

As there was a sense of urgency, I had to act immediately. The fact was that I knew that my friend is a doctor and is presently working in a hospital in the neighbouring district. But other than that I had absolutely no clue about how to contact this person. Being a hartal day, the only way out was to make a few calls and try my luck. Soon, I could obtain the hospital number and a few further calls later I was in hold of the precious mobile number of my doctor friend . Feeling quite elated I immediately dialled the number forgetting the fact that doctors' have no hartal in their lifetime! These hartal induced holidays are the prerogatives of  ordinary mortals like me. After making a few desperate calls, I gave up thinking that my luck has finally run out. 

In the evening I was surprised to receive a missed call from my doctor friend.  I got really excited and rang back immediately. The voice at the other end responded positively when I queried whether I had called up the right person. Then I identified myself quite hesistantly as I was calling her after nearly 22 Years!!

But those years just seemed to melt as I heard a hearty laugh break out at the other end. In a moment, we were back at the Arya Central School, where we spent those most valuable ten years of our life. The voice had changed, years had simply flown but the warmth of childhood friendship was still the same. It was as if we had met only a week after the school had closed for a vacation. We eagerly lapped up information about those missing years and updated each other's profile in our memory. 

When I finally informed her about the real purpose of locating her, she was only too eager to help me. The talk soon shifted to her professional life, as to how busy she was in real life being a Gyneacologist and yet how she still found time to spare, to be with her own kids. As she described how tough and time bound her job was, I was quite amazed at the transformation of my school buddy, a simple down to earth person, into a medical tutor cum practitioner, totally professional to the core. Even more surprising was her decision to quit a posting in the highly paid private sector and opt for the government service simply because she wanted to spend quality time with her own kids. What is the use of regretting years later that one could'nt enjoy the growing years of  our own children, she said, as she explained how satisfied she was with her wise decision. It was not a remark made off hand by a mother of two. It was a well thought out decision taken at the right time at the right juncture. 

As I ended the call with Dr.Resmy, I felt really happy not just because I had found a long lost childhood friend but also because I got a much needed affirmation as to the correctness of the decision I had taken years ago when I opted for the government service instead of the glamorous job of a journalist. For years on, I used to shrink uncomfortably when faced with umpteen queries as to "Why this job and not that?".   From now on, I too shall proudly raise my head and reply confidently, with just two little words- Family First.

Once upon a time in a global village....

I had first heard the term 'Global Village' during my journalism course, long time ago and had felt amazed at how the technological advancements are going to shrink the vast world into a small global village. Though we still talk about it much more casually, it is only recently that I could identify the real village in the virtual world - the facebook.

As I was going through my facebook, I was struck by how we behave just like those village simpletons. The "Wall" was just another name for the ubiquitous village tea shop. One could get a bird's eye view of what was happening in our village and could easily join any of the discussions going on. One could also be a bystander and silently observe how each event is developing. But here we have one more advantage. One can partake in all this, incognito, which is a mindset truly rustic. If the facebook developers had added a mechanism to secretly record those footprints silently walking through its pages, it would have been real fun. 

Just like villagemen innocently celebrating their small achievements, the Wall too brandishes such announcements in all forms..be it birthdays or kids performance.. the celebrations require no special reason.

A villageman is bound to visit his neighbours occasionally and personally enquire about their wellbeing. Otherwise he becomes an outcast in his village. The modern day villageman also visits the homepage of his friends, but he does it mostly undercover and curiously scans what they are upto. 

The newly-wed couple are a sight to behold in a village. All eyes follow them jealously and so are the visitors to the albums. The ones uploading and the umpteen ones downloading are equally happy.

Those who value their privacy in a village and built a six foot fence around their houses too find their counterpart in the modern day village. They bluntly shut their doors with a no-entry sign and friends of friends are left high and dry.

But the real boon is for that evergreen lover, the pareekutty of every village. His lady love may have settled with a lad long back, but through facebook, he continues to watch her... at a distance.... and watch the fairytale life he had dreamed of unfold before him....albeit without him.

When blue-bleak embers gashed gold-vermillion...

"No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,

Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion."

These concluding lines of the poem "The Windhover" by Gerard Manley Hopkins have kept me enamoured for years not just by its poetic beauty but by the way it had changed my life at that impressionable age. 

As students of English literature, we had Poetry as the main subject during the second year of our Degree classes. And to teach us poetry we also had our Geetha Miss, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. However it was her down to earth nature that turned out to be more charming as we got to know her more. 

In the first term, we had to cover this wonderful poem by G M Hopkins. The poem with its rare rhythmic format had seemed quite a tough one at the onset. But our Geetha Miss guided us through its maze with such ease that we could really enjoy the lasting beauty of the poem. It got etched in my mind in such a manner that at the first term examination, the answer for my annotation could capture the poem's essence very aptly. It is at juncture that I had the most surprising experience in my life. While distributing the answer sheet back to me,  a beaming Geetha Miss amply made it clear that she was highly impressed with the answers I had given for the poem. I had never had such a straightforward appreciation ever from any of my teachers till that day and I felt really indebted to her for having recognized some worth in me.

That single incident had a a lasting effect on my life as it changed the way I looked at myself. It boosted my confidence which was non-existent till then and I even began dreaming of building up a career in the future. A little time later I got  another opportunity to savour the goodwill of this teacher. My interest in the current affairs saw me participating along with my friend, in the Quiz Competition, which was supposed to be meant only for those "brainy" people. As we sat huddled in a corner on the stage, we found to our surprise that we were able to answer quite a lot of questions and we ended up winning the second prize. On the next day, Geetha Miss was simply waiting to congratulate us as she said, " Just imagine...all this time, these two girls were sitting right under my nose and we never knew them. "

Looking back, I can vouch for the fact that a Geetha Miss had changed my life for good, as a teacher should. To  adapt Hopkins' lines, the blue-bleak embers had gashed gold-vermilion under a true teacher.

On seeing Bhagat Singh's original handwriting

A writing so beautiful

It reflected  a  serene mind

A language so elegant

Its mastery unveiled  
He was a fragrant bud

Waiting to bloom

But his thoughts revolutionary

 Pricked the Empire mighty
That they found him fit

For the noose

Rather than let him loose.  

Lest We Forget

It is the first monsoon season in our newly built house. The Rain 
God seems to be in a benevolent mood as it is raining copiously this year. To have a house of your own, and to enjoy the rains, sitting in the balcony, had been a dream, cherished deep down in our hearts. So when the dream finally became true, and as we sat in the balcony, drinking in the beauty of the monsoon showers, we felt overwhelmed with gratitude towards the blessings of the Almighty. It was also the time we felt indebted to our Kunjettan.

For years, the thought of constructing the house had been gnawing at our minds and everytime we tried to make a move forward, it would invariably meet with a hurdle. And then Kunjettan came into our life, literally becoming the Hands of God to give shape to our dream.

Kunjettan was my husband's cousin brother. But the love he had for his cousin was more than that of a sibling. For, what else could make a person take up a work, that would keep him away from his house for nearly two years, and which would consume his time and energy so much that he would hardly be able to enquire, leave alone care for his aged mother as well as his wife and children. In that respect, kunjettan was quite a mystery for everyone who came to know of his role in building our house.


Kunjettan, lost his mother at a very young age and was brought up in the house of his relatives along with his younger sister. As a teenager, he was later taken to Trichy by his father where he grew up under the loving care of his second mother. 

Kunjetten soon became associated with the construction field and he became a construction engineer by profession without attending any professional college, other than hands-on experience. His expertise was so well known that every newly recruit engineer in the state Public Works Department was asked to take apprenticeship under him before undertaking any independent work.

 For years on, Kunjettan became the layman's architect in building dream homes for people belonging to all sections of the society.  When the rich sought his guidance again and again for undertaking extension works or for newer projects, the poor looked upon him as a messiah who had fulfilled their 'never-likely-to happen" wish.


 Kunjettan would often reminisce about how he would take the initiative in first instilling confidence in these people and then take a token advance from them. Very often he himself would finance the expense for the foundation. After this, he would take a loan from the bank in their name and built a one-room house so that they can shift. The monthly rent thus saved is collected and then step by step the construction is completed over a period of time.   

Kunjetten returned to Kerala and settled in his hometown Wayanad, a few years ago after winding up all the projects and disposing off his assets in Trichy. His children, two sons and daughter were all settled and it was time to enjoy the retirement period. But it was not long before Kunjettan began to feel restless sitting idle at home. A person who has been active all along is suddenly beset with all sorts of illness when there is no other engagements and Kunjettan was no exception. It was at this juncture that the idea of taking up the construction of our house was mooted and Kunjettan was only eager to do so. 

When Kunjettan came to Cochin to inspect our land, it was with a child-like excitement that he went about enquiring the details and seeing this excitement we felt assured that Kunjettan had taken up the task with cent percent willingness and not out of any obligation.


 He readily agreed to stay with us though the two bedroom flat was hardly spacious enough. We soon came to understand why he was so confident of managing  himself, for his wants were much too less than we could ever imagine. He would be  up in the early morning and by 7 he would leave for the construction site to return only at 7 in the evening. His only demand was for a two-wheeler to move around and his enterprising nature took us by wonder for he was so much at ease in a new and crowded city like Cochin, finding his way through the nooks and corners which we never knew existed.

Kunjettan was so simple a person in his outlook that one would have expected him to be soft in the site also. But there he was such a stickler to perfection that he would brook no laxity at all and the workers soon came to recognise this and started cooperating. Whenever a problem came up he would find some ingenuous way to overcome it and thereby ensured that not a day passed without any progress in the construction. Each day we would eagerly visit the site and see our dream home coming up so fast that before we knew it, the construction was complete and that too with a much needed financial savings. 


He knew how little spare time we had to supervise the works and  never complained about it other than pulling our leg by addressing us as the guests of the house and not the owners! He also knew that if any work is left incomplete, it is likely to remain so for years. So he took care to finish all the major works and even cajoled us to shift to the house soon enough, unmindful of the little works pending, so that he could go back home contented. 

As the life in our new home moves on, we often pinch ourselves in disbelief that we are truely staying in a house of our own.  So when our "Indeevaram" house get ready to become drenched in another spell of rains, we silently thank the Almighty for this  Kunjettan's varam.