Wednesday, 16 October 2013

The Gayly Laws...

The year of 2009, ignited some hopes in the mind of Aman, of marrying his love.  Being born and brought up in a well to do aura, he was then a successful entrepreneur, when he first met Jyothi, who use to own a flower shop near the North over bridge in Kochi. Aman was an introvert, who always had problems with his batch mates, found solace in the arms of Jyothi, who shared the same wavelength of thoughts with Aman.  Their favourite meeting place was Marine Drive, where once they had went for a romantic boating. Now it has been over 5 years that they met, but never thought of tying a knot and getting married. They knew that the Indian society has not been liberalized yet from the chains of caste and culture, and also had a clear idea of the aftermaths of their marriage.  Aman’s parents have been insisting him to get married from over a long time, and now when he has stepped into his thirties, the idea was intoxicating his veins. Jyothi on the other hand being an orphan, the city never cared.  

Aman’s parents were too busy in building up their empire, when they dumped their only son in one of Kochi’s most prestigious boarding schools. He had the least intimacy with them, more of which he had with the warden. He was academically brilliant but was very shy during the school days that he even refrained from going to the boy’s toilet. He used to feel insecure and embarrassed when the guys of his class used to crack adult jokes on girls. He was always comfortable with girls and never gave ears to the taunting, by his fellow mates and also by some of his teachers. He always seized the female roles to be enacted on stage, just to get a chance to be in girl’s costumes. It was when, one day some rogues of his class sexually harassed him that Aman realized that he was just a poor girl confined in a boy’s body. That incident left an ineradicable mark on his mind forever.

As he grew, he felt more and more alienated by the society. He started considering himself a taboo and cursed the heavens for creating him odd. He used to cry alone at nights and also tried committing suicide, but was always rescued by one or the other. Last time his parents took him to a psychiatrist’s clinic, but it didn’t work out much for Aman with a closed mouth. His parents knew that he had some problems but never tried to go deep into the roots. He tried reading many philosophical books, and it worked. Soon he was able to drift his mind from pessimism and took over his family business. But sometimes when the thoughts over brimmed, he used to go for a ride on his lady-bird bicycle towards Marine Drive. It was on such a melodramatic evening that he met Jyothidas, a guy from the lowest strata of the society and hence a sex worker by choice.  It was on the bench facing the sea, that they got to know each other and became close thereafter. It was with the help of Aman, that Jyothi renovated his flower shop and started doing some serious business. They also started working with NGOs which helped and supported the LGBT communities to come forward and create an identity of their own.

Watching the sunset, Jyothi remembered how Aman had brought crackers when Delhi High Court quashed section 377 of Indian Penal Code, 1860 and decriminalized homosexuality. Same sex marriage has not been legalized yet in India, but the story of Veena & Savitha of Uttar Pradesh, has cemented their ideology to an extent. Aman and Jyothi moved to a rented apartment, after his parent’s immediate death in a plane crash in Lagos. At first it was difficult for both of them to get over such a mishap, but it was indeed a soothing feeling for them to know that though homosexuality is not widely accepted, the Indians, including Alex Mathai, their apartment owner, have started being tolerant towards the LGBT people.

Amidst the pile of divorce cases in the country and giants like US discoursing about legalizing homosexuality, their living together relationship has been successful so far. It seems the framed painting of Khajuraho which dangles down from a nail of their bedroom wall, is waiting for the Apex court to approve, so that they can give a name to their affiliation...

NB: This short-story is in response to October 16, 2013- BlogAction Day topic “Human Rights”

Monday, 14 October 2013

Haiku: To Attain Moksha...

life’s last pilgrimage
old couples with their young, move
through greens, for moksha.

This is in response to the Write Tribe Contest 2-Haiku

Friday, 13 September 2013

That Unexpected Phone Call...

I got a call from him yesterday at around 9.00 pm.  Seeing the anonymous number I never expected it to be him. Usually I am a guy, who only gets a call when one of my friends will be in need of something.  It might be because I have always been the same way and never thought of changing myself. He talked to me a lot, about his new organization, his new bike and about going to his native land during the Onam vacation. Though I was happy and surprised, my eyebrows were still raised, expecting a question of help. But he went on and on and ended altruistically. I felt sorry for not saving his number in my phone-book before. I never believed in maintaining relationships with friends. But that call made me realize something inexplicably new.

Sometimes it just takes the most trivial thing in this world, like a phone call to move somebody.  It’s always good to know that there are still some selfless people around and somebody in some unknown corner of this world still likes you...

Friday, 16 August 2013

The Mia Women Of My Life

It had always been there underneath my mind, to pen down about the most influential women of my life. At the outset I would like to thank Tanishq, for giving me the opportunity to share my thoughts on my Mia women.  Yes, its women, since I would like to confer about two women, who made my life utmost beautiful, with their presence, and can’t count out one, as they are the oxygen and water of my life.

I start off with Mrs. Sheela Soman, the first woman whom I saw as soon as I opened my eyes to this new world.  Being a home maker can be the most tedious and multifunctional job, a woman can ever step into, and I had never seen a woman, other than her, who had worked it well with an unusual charisma. I always wondered how she managed to bring us up and supported her husband amidst all other responsibilities. Soon after her marriage, when dad brought her to an unknown land, she never complained, but got accustomed with the new people, culture, language and the aura, with a smile. She always made the food as per our likings, and always up kept the novelty in what she did. She always had a quest for learning. I never felt her so courageous, until when my grandpa expired, and she travelled back to our native land on a single train berth, with two tiny lives clutching her arms. Being one of the most mischievous kids on earth, I always felt sorry for making her cry. All these years, as her hair turned grey, I had seen her performing different roles, of a wife, mother, daughter, sister, mother-in-law, and every role with utmost perfection. I always felt, my dad is the luckiest man on earth to have a wife like her. In my whole life, I had never seen him scolding her for any reason. She was a good reader of the mind, and it was her early intuition which had always reserved my house as a home. I still remember, the evening, when as an enraged child, I plucked out her golden earring and threw it into the sand. She held me tight to her lap, and started searching for it, with her tears drenching me. She never let me down...

Even today I can dare to expect, my favourite snacks aromatizing at the dining table, with a glass of water beside, as soon as I reach home from my office. I don’t know if it’s another usual story, but I thank God, for gifting me with such a lovely mom.

The other woman who had influenced me equally, is none other than Mrs. Parvathy Sreedev. I met her first in my post graduation classroom. A traditionally dressed bookworm, with an innocent smile, and a tender heart to help anyone, was the first impression, I had about her. I got more impressed when at first she denied my proposal to marry her. I had always admired her dedication and will power. I owe my M.Phil degree to her, as without her it would have never been possible. She took all the pain amidst her academics, to make me attain my dreams. At an early age, she lost her father, and it was her courage, which led her to prosper academically, and become an Assistant Professor at present. She always lived my dreams and never failed to encourage, every bit in me.  It might be her concentration over academics which restrained her from being a versatile cook, but I being a foodie, she always loved to search in Google, for new delicacies and made it for me. It always tasted of love. Even in this busy schedule, she spends most of her time in reading and preparing notes for her students. I learned to worship my work from her. She never compromised on that and the feeling of incompleteness, had always led her towards perfection. Every weekend she travelled almost 200kms to meet her in-laws. I had never seen, a father-in-law loving his daughter-in-law with much intensity and longing to see her. The whole family awaits her arrival, as she had become the darling of our house. I always thought her to be impassive, until last week, when she bought me a red rose. Unlike me, it was gifted to me for no particular reason. For the first time I thought woman to be a wonder…

I don’t know if, yet it is another usual story, but here too I can dare to expect, a reserved space in a heart which holds me before I fall and encourages me to aspire high...

Monday, 5 August 2013

The Tiny Tamarind’s Tale...

They tied the Tiger to the Tamarind Tree. The Tamarind Tree told this to the Tamarind Tycoon. The Tamarind Tycoon torpedoed the Tiny Tamarind towards the Tired Tiger. The Tiny Tamarind trusted the Tired Tiger. The Tired Tiger then toed the Tiny Tamarind to taste. They tied the Tiny Tamarind to the Tamarind Tree then.

(Linking this to the 55 Fiction Prompt, based on the theme Mystery. Every word starts with the same letter "T")   

Wednesday, 31 July 2013

God Was Toothless That Day...

They always said God lies in every innocent smile.  I promised that old woman before St. Antony’s Shrine, Kaloor to buy candles. After the novena, I found her nowhere. After a long search I found her struggling to sell the packets. I bought a packet and got a beautiful and innocent toothless smile in return.

(Linking this to Ultimate Blog Challenge  & To the 55 Fiction Prompt, based on the theme love)  

Tuesday, 30 July 2013

Haiku: On Haiku

Haiku On Haiku
Is Just Another Haiku
On Every Haiku

(Linking this to Ultimate Blog Challenge ) 

Monday, 29 July 2013

Haiku: On All

All Are Othellos
Sceptical About Themselves
Prevailing Pretence

(Linking this to Ultimate Blog Challenge )

Sunday, 28 July 2013

Haiku: On Rose

Rose Is Beautiful
Always With Those Piercing Thorns
Like All Creations

(Linking this to Ultimate Blog Challenge )

Saturday, 27 July 2013

Haiku: On Delusion

Top post on, the community of Indian Bloggers

Delusion A Curse
Leading To Self Destruction
And Of Others Too

(Linking this to Ultimate Blog Challenge )

Friday, 26 July 2013

Haiku: On Money

Top post on, the community of Indian Bloggers

Whole Life For Money
But What Never Ends Is Greed
Then Flamed Or For Worms

(Linking this to Ultimate Blog Challenge )

Thursday, 25 July 2013

The Smile Of Ummukolsu...

Top post on, the community of Indian Bloggers

The chirps of Ummukolsu, always overwhelmed the heavy rains at Machigal and the Adhan from the mosque. Khadeeja, her mother would be running in and out of their mud-tiled roofed house several times, before her sweet baby went to school. Rahim said Ummukolsu smiled like her father, Riyaaz, as she waved her little hands to Khadeeja. According to the people of Machigal, she was an exact replica of Riyaaz, who had gone to Hajj, and never came back. 

By evening Khadeeja waited eagerly for Ummukolsu at the veranda for that shadow of Riyaaz’s smile, which always kept her hopeful thereafter...