സീതേ 

കാതോർക്കുന്ന കർണത്തിനെ അറിയൂ  വലംപിരിശംഖിലൊതുങ്ങിയ കടലിന്റെ ആളൽ

ഇമ്മമൂടിയ  നിദ്രയിലുമുണ്ട് ചിതൽമൂടിയ ഓർമ്മകളെ തൊട്ടുണർത്തൽ

നിശയുടെ നിശബ്ദദയിലുമുണ്ട് വിശക്കുന്ന വയറിന്റെ കാളൽ

ഹാ സീതേ , മകളേ ....
എന്റെ അശോകവനിയിൽ നീ എപ്പോഴുമുണ്ടെന്നൊരു തോന്നൽ 

നടനം

നിനക്കായി, നീയായി രചിച്ച നടനകലയിലെ ഒരു രംഗം മാത്രമാണ് ഞാൻ

എൻ്റെ ചുവടുകൾ പിഴച്ചിട്ടില്ല

ഓരോ നാദത്തിനും താളത്തിനും ഒത്തൊരുനാളമായി

എന്നെ മറന്നു ഞാൻ തിമിർത്താടി

രംഗം കഴിഞ്ഞു!!!!!

ഇനി വേദി ഒഴിയണം;ഒഴിഞ്ഞു.

ആടയും ചേലയും അഴ്യിച്ചു നിസ്വനാകണം 

ഒരു സാധാരണ പ്രേക്ഷകന്ന്റെ ജിജ്ഞാസയോടെ, ബാക്കി രംഗം നോക്കി കാണണം

തിരശീല വിഴുന്നതിനൊപ്പം , ശിവനിൽ ലയിക്കണം

സ്വന്തം രംഗം ഏറ്റവും ഭംഗിയാക്കിയ സംതൃപ്തിയോടെ ...

വാനപ്രസ്ഥത്തിനൊരുകുന്ന രാമനോളം മനഃശുദ്ധില്ലനിരിക്കെ
വര്ഷാവര്ഷം എരിതീയിൽ അമരാനൊരുകുന്ന രാവണനായേക്കാം ഒരുപക്ഷെ ....

മൃതി

ആലംബമില്ലാതെ വിലാപത്തിലാഴ്ത്തുവാൻ ആലിംഗനം ചെയ്യുന്ന വിരഹമേ,

ആരവങ്ങളില്ലായിരുന്നു ഇത്രമേൽ, നീ പരിണയിച്ച ആയുഷ്കാലമത്രെയും.

നാഴിയിൽ അളക്കുവാൻ കഴിയുമോ നിന്നെ ദഹിപ്പിക്കുന്ന ഈ ആഴിക്കു,

അലമുറയിൽ നിന്നും നിശ്ശബ്ദതയിലേക്കു നീളുന്ന നഷ്ടബോധത്തിന്റെ  കണക്കുപറിച്ചിൽ.

രണ്ടുതുണ്ട് പഞ്ഞിക്കുമുന്നിൽ അടിയറവുപറഞ്ഞിരിക്കുന്നു ഓരോനിശ്വാസവും.

പീതപട്ടുമൂടിയ നിൻ  അന്ധത ഹനിക്കുന്നു നിരർത്ഥകമായ ഓരോ വിശ്വാസവും.

തൂശനിലയിൽ വിളമ്പിയ നിൻ ശാരീരം ഇനി എന്നന്നേക്കുമേൽ നിസ്വനം.

ചിതലുകൾ അരിക്കുവാൻ  ഒരുങ്ങുന്നു നീ അർത്ഥപൂർണമാക്കിയ ഓർമ്മകളും.

നിൻ ചിതയിലെ ഒടുവിലത്തെ  കനൽക്കട്ടയണക്കും  എൻ ഒടുക്കത്തെ ബാഷ്പം, 

ആ ഭസ്മത്തിൽ ചാലിച്ചെഴുതിയാലും, പിൻകാമിയെ ഉറ്റുനോക്കും കർമ്മകാണ്ഡം.

എള്ളുമൂടിയ ബലിച്ചോറു വിറപൂണ്ട വിരലുകൾ ഏൽക്കവേ,

കറപുരളാത്ത മനസിന്റെ മിഴിയിൽ വിശപ്പിന്റെ നിഷ്കളങ്കത.

രാമച്ചപുകയായുയരുന്ന നിൻ സന്നിധാനമിന്നു, നാളെ ഒരുപക്ഷെ വിരസം,

പിന്നെ ഒരുപിടി വാർഷിക സംബ്രദായം ആകുന്നു നിൻ സ്മൃതിപഥം.

മോഡേൺ ബ്രെഡും , റോബസ്റ്റ പഴവും, കട്ടൻ ചായയാലും, സാമൂഹിക മർമരങ്ങൾ സുഭിക്ഷം.

എത്ര സുന്ദരനാണുനി വിരൂപനായ പരമാർത്ഥമേ, മരണമേ, സത്യം ....

Asian Paints- Adding Colors To Life...

So finally I came up on terms with my queen and decided to renovate our old ancestral house, ‘Kizhakkinipura’, meaning the house that faces the east.  Being an amateur perfectionist, I called upon the best architects in Kochi, to get me a blueprint, which in no way should hinder the Vaastu maintained all over the house. We agreed upon the most innovative design, and started working towards the same. Renovation, in fact costs much more, as it involves knocking down of walls, creating new beams for support, multi-plastering, evacuating the mud tiled ceilings, flooring and last but not the least, painting. I was getting impatient day by day, as the wages of the workers went incompatible with the zigzag timings, they worked for me. I cursed my decision of not considering the building contract which Mr. Ramadasan, the Real-Estate Developer of our colony, had put forward.

The bedroom and living room were joined to form a spacious living room altogether. The door of the next bedroom was shifted to the left to maintain the ‘Vaayu Sanchaaram’(air- circulation), as per the Vaastu. A new ‘Puja Muri’ (prayer room) was also created and the dining room was thus shifted accordingly. All bedrooms in the first and second floors were made bathroom attached. The vitrified tiles gave a novel feel to the floor. The dining room became a bit gloomy, with only one window panel as the light and air passage. This really upset me as we had to switch on the light, even during the day time while dining.

But then, when you are not an expert, at supervising the process, it’s always better to hand over the same to the professionals. In deed I lost not only my precious time and hard earned money but in the hustle and bustle, the glory of my wooden furniture, some crystal showpieces and ever cherished antiques were also lost forever. Now when painting the house was something, yet to be done, the budget stood as a question mark before me. My queen turned pale, on my decision of compromising over the painting process.  But then, just like any other typical Indian, for me too, family mattered more than money and I left the decision on her, but with a patriarchal anxiety and grin.

For the next three days I found her hovering over her laptop, every now and then.  In between she used to come and ask for some color suggestions. I didn't pay much attention, as I had an ostensible notion, that finally when she gets fed up, she will compromise.  But to my astonishment, on the third day, I found her filling a form, which made me more fretful to peep into her screen.  She had finally landed over the website of Asian Paints. She called up their helpline and talked for a few minutes or so.

Exactly on the very fourth day, an executive from Asian Paints was at our door steps. I welcomed him with a double mind. After having tea, I found my queen having discussions with him over the colors to be used. She was smiling, which indicated that she was impressed, but the budget dangled over my head like a dagger. The gentleman assured me the best service, though I was still doubtful about the whole process. The very next day a bunch of painters came with technologically advanced machinery. We never thought that it would be that quick, so we hadn't moved our furniture and other valuables. To my surprise, they did it all and there was a motherly care in their handling of every bit and pieces. They covered the entire floor and the wooden furniture with plastic. Their electric rollers gave a classy finishing over the walls. As they had suggested, we used pure white color in the dining room, and unexpectedly it eradicated the gloominess of the room. The sunlight from that one window was enough, and the white color did the rest to light up the room.  The room of the children were made more colorful with caricatures. The prayer room was painted in wooden brown, which gave it a gorgeous look, especially in the dim light of the oil lamp. All new bathrooms were painted to match the respective bedroom's color. They used different paints for interior and exterior in accordance with the climate of Kerala. I was awestruck at the wood finishing and was getting impressed by their professionalism and the beauty of my house. The next surprise, which awaited me, was the bill. Yes, it was much cheaper than expected.

I was very proud of my queen for bringing Asian Paints, home. They not only add beauty to my walls but colors to my life also. My house has turned out to be the best house in the colony, which constitutes even the modern villas of the times.  We didn't even require an interior designer, as they brought home, the whole package of wonders. Now-a-days the passersby come and ask me for suggestions, and I simply direct them to the helpline of Asian paints. Some of my relatives envy and some accolade, but I enjoy both.

NB:This post is in accordance with Asian Paints- Great Ways To Create A Beautiful Home Blogger Contest

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”

Courtesy of: http://www.blogactionday.org

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

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...