RAJASHRI IYER swears out her dilemma on a women’s day celebration….

They  promised me a lovely woodland Far away,

Where the women bloom.

They screamed at me

To come out of my kitchen

To walk in the moonlight.

They asked me to call him

A beast…..

And taught me how to lure him in.

Whispered me of the short-cut

To his heart ..

That is through his stomach.

They taught me how to do manicure

And how the spices tap his senses

To open into my bowls.

They urged me to be bold enough

To broaden my neckline

Revealing my cute cleavage.

They chuckled at me for knitting buttons

On his shirt , taught me how to embroider

A tapestry to my visitor’s room.

They asked me to shake off the rituals

And spread out the tattoos

That most befit my waistline.

They trained me at the gym

To be stiff and stubborn

And gifted me a moisturizer

To keep my skin-tone fragile.

They quoted the doctor

How to castrate him

And taught me how to be ‘safe’.

They also assured to re-stitch me

To a virgin, forgetting my three kids

But they excerpted the psychologists

How to bring up my pampered ones.

They brought me a lawyer

To learn about my rights

And his zero rights on my body and my yard

Where my flowers bloom and sway

Under his shower.

And they led me to the street

That leads to the woods

Where the women bloom and sway,

Feasting pink under the blue…

GREESHMA VINCENT talks about the episode of a chatting session with M.Mukundan the Chronicler of Mayyazhi, staged at the venue of a literary celebration where he opened up to a flock of new-genre writers.

“Although such workshops contribute something to the goal, often it deviates from its track to mere festivities. Writers are not supposed to be ‘on-the-dais’ but they are badly in need of those who are ‘off-the dais’.” affirmed M.Mukundan through the rhapsodies of a pompous ‘Vaikhari’, a 5-day long event conducted ‘to revive interest in literature among college students’.

Renovation

To the amazement of a group of young aspirants, the story-teller of Mayyazhi whose existential novels once said to be heralded an era of anarchy, greeted them with a serene smile. In a soft gentle voice he interacted with the novices, often searching for his companion V.R.Sudheesh, who was patiently waiting outside.

“Good works of art can be sprung from an orderly life too.  I am experimenting on it now, like the exact reverse of what I have been doing since my writing career.” He kick started the session with a simple thud upon the subconscious notion of the wannabe ones.

Underlining what V.R.Sudheesh told about him as a ‘writer who constantly re-invents himself’, he continued.

“I like to bring in renovations and innovations in the theme, form and style in my writings. I need to re-invent and update myself in order not to be died out in the deluge of e-writing. I never blamed or afraid of the new writers or their styles. Why should I fear when I own a space here..?”,asks a confident Mukundan.

“In the present trend of Malayalam literature, I find the language becomes heavier with excessive use of alien elements. It becomes difficult for the common man to comprehend with. Substantially, it never reaches the readers..”

“But it doesn’t mean there are no good writers in Malayalam. With the emergence of social networking sites a lot of people get a platform to showcase their talents.  They do read a lot and of course write too in good language.”, replied Mukundan for a query on newcomers.

An ultimate  writer

“There is a tendency to figure out a writer’s persona on the basis of his character sketches. This may not be true often. However, my personal experience out of my extensive travels and umpteen acquaintances might have influenced me to plot a story.” He retorted to a question on his short story ‘Delhi 1981’.

“France is a country which upholds human values at high and its language too carry the shades of its rich heritage. My childhood memoirs revolve around Mahe, the then French territory. So the influence of French comes subconsciously into my writings..,”, observes Mukundan who has received the prestigious Chevelier des Arts et des Letters from the French government.  His magnum opus ‘Mayyazhippuzhayude theerangalil’ (On the banks of Mayyazhi) has not only revered by generations but also brought him an award for the best novel that has published in a span of 25 years. As its sequel when ‘Daivathinte Vikruthikal’ (God’s mischief) came out, Malayalee was once again feeling the subtle and divine bond of man with his native land beyond boarders.

When Daivathinte Vikruthikal was screened Mukundan himself penned the script. Even though it fetched him the Sate award for the best scenarist he says script-writing never gives him a writer’s content as it being more technical than creative.

“In my writings you may find the influence of Dostoevsky and Vaikom Mohammed Basheer because I adore them immensely. But I never tried to emulate them as such.”, Mukundan elucidates of his inspiration .

Can we expect another classic like Mayyazhi…?

“I believe that such classics happen only once in a life. See, we got only one ‘Naalukettu’ from M.T., only one ‘Khasaakinte ithihasam’ from O.V.Vijayan. Heard that Mr.Vijayan had tried to build up another one, but could not..”, comments the writer who apprehended the in-depth self of human entity.

Awards

At a time when awards become a hot piece of debates, he responded to it in his usual abrogate style. “ I adore every award as a recognition. If it is given I would accept it even if it is cinder. If burnt, would shake it off, but never refute.”

This time it was by N.K.Thalikulam Trust for his novel ‘Pravaasam’ depicting the sojourn of a Malayalee who travels around the globe carrying his Malayalee self wherever he goes.

“I revere this award which is in the name of a great personality like N.K.Thalikulam. But I cannot completely rule out the political interferences which ruin the image of awards and its concepts.”

For a writer whose 32 works found a slot in The Library of Congress with two other books written on him, awards and recognitions need not matter, even if it comes on and off.

Sahitya Akademy

“Experience as the President of Sahitya Akademy was really enriching. It informed me a lot of the intellectual activities in the State which I had viewed from a distance earlier. But it was also a period of stress and tension. It affected my writing badly.  However, I believe I could bring some talented writers to the mainstream. But the lack of continuity in governance that blocks the ongoing projects in Akademy.”, Mukundan recalled the incidents of his Presidential term in Kerala Sahitya Akademy.

“Excepting a handful of painful memories, I could release a collection of poems, then.”, he added with a smile.

“We had conducted a lot of seminars and workshops at that time. But Sahitya Akademy alone can do nothing to preserve or promote Malyalam language. It is the responsibility of the language Institutes to helm the moves”, Mukundan replied to a query.

And he responded with an abrupt ‘No’, when asked if Sahitya Akademy does anything to promote Malayalm literature.

Tri-phased Life

In a worthy life with three distinct phases that redound to an aesthetic living, which one would be the favorite and favorable for M.Mukundan?

“Definitely the Delhi life”, stated an exalted writer. “It was the time when I could mould the writer out of my Self.”

Mukundan let in a chance for us to turn the pages back to his Life at Mayyazhi which formed the backdrops of his classical works as well as his writer-self standing at this Return to the native part where he misses his privacy often. Sahitya Akademy alone can do nothing to preserve or promote Malyalam language.

“It was at the last hours of my Babychaayan (Late poet Kaakkanadan) that I felt it severely. They (media) were torturing me when I was in a deep grief. Yes, I know, their profession demands it. But that was too much..”

A  chat with B.K.Harinarayanan, the poet-lyricist upon whom the aesthetic Kerala looks forward for reinstating  its  rich lineage of film songs with musical and lyrical contents..

By AMULYA.K.A.

When B.Unnikrishnan’s new movie released sans a Girish Puthenchery, everybody was anxious to know the name of the lyricist in the promo ads. To their astonishment, they found a new name – Harinarayanan– and the media shaded him with the halo left by the great bard Puthenchery .

“Please don’t count me a successor or substitute of Girish Puthenchery..”, an ardent admirer of Girish Puthenchery, Harinarayanan  openly admits himself as pales into insignificance at this go. “If you say so, it will be like promoting a first standard student to graduate level by simply calling him a child prodigy..”.

Late Gireesh Puthenchery

But if you snoop to the songs of the Prithwiraj starrer ‘Thriller’, you may find a tint of Puthenchery cult in between the lines. On listening to the rap music of ‘Thriller’ you will smell the yesteryear hit of ‘Summer in Bethlehem’, ‘confusion theerkanamae….’.

The Poet

A poet is often born. The ambience reinvents him categorized into the world of words and aesthetics. Thus , the oxygen-rich Karikkadu village and the Vedic chants echoing inside an orthodox Kerala Brahmin garret, made Harinaryanan a bard of our richness. In his poems with calculated meters and rhyming,( which are rare in today’s poetry), Malayali re-identified  his literary roots embedded in a well-off Sanskrit.

“It was my Guru Shri.E.P.Bharata Pisharoty, brother of my tutor in Mridangam Shri. Narayana Pisharoty, has found out the poetic persona inside me and with his inspiration my first poem was published when I was a school boy.”, says Harinarayanan who always love to be known as a poet rather than the umpteen fields in which he has excelled with so far. “My paternal uncles also paved my way to a realm of verses and they still stand pillars by my side all through my journey of twists and turns”, he added.

Harinarayanan’s poems often seen published in ‘Bhashaposhini’ like periodicals which deals with serious literary affairs in Malayalam.

Transmission from a poet to a lyricist is still incomplete with Harinarayanan.  While songs are written for the mass to enjoy and sing along with, poems targets a particular segment who owns a sense of literary aesthetics. “But to write certain words that suit to the tunes and the context pre-determined is the challenge in song writing”, says Harinarayanan. “In both, it is a game with words and I always love words. Even while writing poems I had a dream to be a lyricist rendering tunes for generations to hum with..You see, all the lyricists are poets. If there is no poetical element in a song, it won’t live for long. That is why Malayalees still ponder over the musings of Vayalar, P.Bhaskaran and like stalwarts..”

Entry into Cinema

Thriller

“It is because of my some sincere friends like Jayan that I could get into the film field. By recognizing the poet inside me, B.Unnikrishanan had given me a chance to write for his film. Though a debutant, I could render what the director wanted me to. It happened only because of his (B.Unnikrishnan) support and motivation.”, remarks Harinarayanan. “Writing verses according to the pre-set tunes was nothing new to me. My first song came out through an album by East Cost, titled as ‘Patturumaal’. A

nd I have penned for a lot of devotional albumsalso before ‘Thriller’. My latest devotional album is ‘Kaanikka’”, replied Harinarayanan for a query about the new trend of song composition.

A lover of words and literature, Harinarayanan keeps a long-cherished dream parboiled clos

B Unnikrishanan

e to  his bosom. Had destiny not pre-determined for him to be known to the world as the lyricist of ‘Thriller’, he would have the privilege to be the intellectual craftsman of the Malayalam film Industry.

“It was 4 years back. Motivated by my friend Rajesh, an off-track movie director, I tried my hand in relocating Shakespeare’s ‘Macbeth’ . I had to try hard for reinstating that classic tragedy into Malayalam backdrops. I was

overwhelmed by the appreciations it received from a few who went through it. But due to some unfortunate incidents I could not turn it to a movie..”, says Harinarayanan in a stance of melancholy, but soon he got back. “ I was trying to bring it through a Kathakali background as it suits to the Kerala scenario more. In fact it was a tiresome journey through the bumps and curves of the world of Kathakali, the art form and the artists, who see their self in the completion of a character”

Vedic ways

“I have been practicing Vedic rituals since my childhood days. Still I do go well with it as a profession also. I used to participate in Athirathram (the oldest surviving ritual that invokes the untapped Universal energy) as a Rithwik”, states Harinarayanan who also does its media works with the privilege of being a Post Graduate in Journalism.

“It was Shri.Uthamakkuruppu and Shri.M.P.Surendran (senior journalists of Mathrubhumi Daily) who inspired me to take up the media works of such a traditionally rich event to make common people know about the significance of this Vedic rendition. As a Rithwik in the last Athirathram in 2006, I was deeply going inside of this ritual while reciting the Vedic chants.”

Right now, Harinarayanan is busy working on his dream project – a book on the know-how of Athiraathram. Reincarnating from his own experiences and attired by his magical vocabulary, this book would be an asset for those who want to learn deep about the cultural heritage of India.

In Love …

Fancied by his good looks and charming smile one would definitely ask this young poet on his first meet up that would he be not interested in acting.  Harinarayanan will laugh at this question and with his innate humour he would fold his palms to us pleading to leave him off. But he is active in dubbing industry lending his pleasant voice to various programs in Dooradarshan.

Though dabbling with different genres like Physics, Charted Accountancy, Tantric ways, Journalism, poetry, script-writing et al, Harinarayanan’s ultimate love  falls with words. That is why he renders the verses for the dance adaptation of C.N.Sreekandan Nair’s famous play ‘Lankalakshmi’. “Rajashree Warrier is the brain behind this venture. She conceives and does both the choreography and performance for this. In fact, her motivation is my only back-up to take over such an altogether novel project. Keeping in mind Ravana’s inseparable entity with his kingdom Lanka and his desire to bring glory to his State through the auspicious Sita, I pen the verses ..here there is no space for lust..”

When Harinarayanan speaks about this versification we sense his poetry as always ripe to be lyrics immortal, we value the ‘unearthly excellence of a poet who escaped from his celestial realms..’ and would love to ‘cherish’ him ‘not to fly back to his homeland..’

A  Poem  by  Praveen  Parasar

We fear

That one day we’ll get caught

Nude, our scars

Exposed

We will stand an exhibit

Before all..

We, as culprits, perpetrators

In the middle of the town

Among the crowd

Looking nowhere but

At the ground,

Under our own feet,

Waiting for the verdict

To be burned at the stake

Alive, smouldering inch by inch

In and out.

To be stoned

From the four sides

Through the hoots and howls

Bled we fall

Unto the shamelessness.

But what if we escape..?

And never get caught..?

Can we be  free..?

Live happily thereafter..?

No….it sounds strange

By the one who dwells inside..

Who counts our deed,

Good or Bad.

Who warns us and warms us

Whenever we trail off.

From whom there is no escape

Either to bleed or to stone

Or to confess, for it

We fear..

Students of Bhavans College of Journalism  share their experiences of their first formal interview with a known personality as a part of their out-door project. Lively narrations of a wholesome interview episode with a nervous start and a gifted ending—–

 “A Poet

Twists and turns the words

To forge flowery keys in his Fire

To help open the doors

Of the secret chambers of

Readers..”

Like the oft-quoted lines “Age cannot wither…..” explains who Shakespeare is, R.B.K.Varma’s own lines speak who Varma is when he steps into the shoes of a poet. As he is busy dabbling in poles-apart-guises, as a Professor, a Management Expert, a Motivator, a painter, a writer, it is difficult for one to hem him inside the brackets of a particular segment.

Rama Bharatha Varma, after his eventful and meaty professional life in various parts of the country, has at last reached Trichur, the cultural hub of Kerala – the land of another Rama Varma, better known to the world as Sakthan Thampuran. When we, some journalism students met him at his apartment in Trichur, he was waiting for us, with a wide smile and a pitcher of cool drinks.

Journalist’s Dilemma

We were embarrassed as our novice from inside was pulling us back to ask him questions as a part of our ‘Interview Techniques’ project. But Varma with a patting smile, kick started the conversation, patiently heard our stammering questions, and corrected us wherever we deviated from the track. At that time he was the English Professor in the Madurai University.

He triggered the session reciting one of the poems he has written about journalists, making us turn back to our Reporting classes, where we often counter with the question of a scoop to submit to the Department.

“The Journalist’s prayer..

Oh, God, a scoop, a single scoop,

A flood in Assam or in Bihar,

 A draught in Gujarath or in Orissa,

An explosion in the political compost,

 At least snap the artery of a pot-belly..

Oh, bless my day with an assassination..”

We recalled our teacher often quotes P.Sainath  as –“Every one loves a good tragedy”, to make us know where we are marching to.

The Poet

Varma has so far written more than 1500poems, most of them are in Hyku style conveying great thoughts in powerful but simple words.

When asked about which poet has inspired him, his answer came spontaneously — “None..”. Though he speaks briskly through his poems, he says he never waits for ‘that apt word’ like a Nissim Ezekeil. If to quote Varma, “a poem or any creative art should have the elements of suspense and surprise, we should be able to sustain the emotions of the reader/viewer..there lies the success of the poet/artist”. In his opinion, the off-track movies which often lack these elements that brings their break down in the box office.

He has published 4 volumes of poems (500 poems) in English with a preface by Dr.K.Ayyappa Panikker, the legendry poet who pioneered modernism in Malayalam poems and critiques, and influenced the intellectual and cultural life of Malayalam by linking it to English Literature.

When Varma explained the long and tensed episodes of his meeting with Ayyappa Panikker to get him writing a preface for his Book of poems, we, the greenhorns who are about to leap into its realms were sat agape, to know how a book is being published.

At last, after going through all the 500 poems Ayyappa Panikker has proclaimed it as “Poems to be Re-visited”!!!

‘The New Indian Express’ reviewed it as ‘First time in India in one stretch’. ‘The Hindu’ has given away a big part of its worthy columns to praise the ‘formal and tonal variety coupled with the mastery over the medium’ of Varma.

But, Varma, keeps a hand written letter of M.T.Vasudevan Nair, the prestigious Jnanapeedhom Award winner, appreciating his poems, as the greatest recognition, he ever had

Varma’s thought provoking poems give the reader a chance for introspection.

“Date of birth is assured..

Date of death is insured”

“The real man is born out of the brain

As the unreal rainbow is born out of the rain”

Varma writes and rewrites often with myriad shades about certain things like life, love, and poems repeatedly but never making the readers ‘cloy’ but ‘hungry’.

The writer

From the Professor of Literature, the journey to an English poet was ‘a massive offering to the Muse’ though he denies that he is not inspired by any poet. But coming to the solid realities of a world that hinges on the management aptitude of the bohemians, he took his pen down a peg to scribble the concrete realities that are needed to survive, simply.

As a Management Professional, he could meet the plurality of embarrassments with which the yester-generation passes through. It never gave him the end until he take his pen to jot something for them –“Productive and Creative Retired Life – never say Good Bye to Life till Death’,an inspirational book, blooming in English and Malayalam.

Another worthy book under work is ‘The Great Indian Cocktail’, depicting the social, cultural, political, business history of contemporary India. The third work which is also in the green room is “Kaleidoscope’, an English novel.

Varma opened his little laptop and passed it to us –and we felt proud for being the first readers of these books which may sometimes make ripples in the literary and social arena of the world, not so late.

A Copy writer

Varma entered into the realms of advertisements even before it has been accepted as a creative business. It is not an easy job to be a copy writer and conceive a great idea in less than 10 seconds with befitting jingles.

 When asked, he recalled the first jingle he has written for the GIC, when banks started providing housing loans to the public.

“I started thinking of the possibilities which bring one in to become a customer of loans. For that the first thing is to emote him for the want of an own home, then only the need of finance arises..I browsed through a lot of pictures in the hope of finding a concept. Suddenly the picture of a colored turtle caught inside and I wrote –“He is born with a home, but you are not….”.

A Student

Even in this 60 plus, Varma is enthusiastic like a child to learn whatever comes in his way. Even while working as a Professor of English, he has taken another PG Degree in Advertisement and Public Relations. Then opting a voluntary retirement to pursue a career in Management Education, he joined with ITM Bangalore, after taking another Master Degree in Marketing Management. It was at the age of 55 !!!

When most of his friends pull themselves into their hermitages waiting for the inevitable, he learned the inevitable thing one needs to survive in the world today – computer technology. Earlier, it was the pen which was mightier than sword, now like any of the contemporary writers; mouse is Varma’s mighty sword.

Varma is excelled in digital paintings also.

 An Artist

An artist is often born. At times circumstances, more or less matter him to keep with a straight face. Here, behind the Professor, behind the Management Professional, an artist was hiding and sometimes it peeped to the world with having no stories to tell except a charging. Simply, lines and colors dribbled or sometimes lashed along the canvas in acrylic or oil medium defined the aesthetics of conveyance to those who dig out.

Varma had conducted a number of Painting Exhibitions also to his credit. We were not fortunate to see a single one, since all the pictures he had enlivened were sold out or gifted to someone.

Now…

Right now, Varma is in a mission to ‘Discover Yourself’, bringing out a change in the attitude of young students. With the immense teaching experience across South India at hand, he tries to train the children at the formative age to find out their inner potentials. Even a proven professor, he now likes to concentrate on school children to build up a grass-route level co-ordination and motivation that he says would support them to discover their self. He conducts this program in the Higher Secondary schools in Kerala now and he showed us the written feedbacks he got from the students of some schools. We saw a fully contented person there, though he never admits it as in his poem:

“Both (God and Man) escape from the monotony of perfection

   The searing search continues…”

Prof.Rama Bharatha Varma is now serving as the COO and Academic Advisor with ELIMS (Elijah Institute of Management Studies) Trichur.

   *                                         *                                            *                                     *                                    *                                                    *

It was more than an interview to interact with such a man who sees in depth of everything he perceives. While bidding ‘bye’ he asked us

 “Do you want a poem right now?”

We were amazed. Varma overtook us and asked “ Come on, tell me a topic”

“Student”, one of us replied

He then took his laptop; meanwhile we have had a talk with his wife, who supports her husband as a good critic of his poems. By that time he finished writing that poem. Passing his laptop to one of us, he asked her to recite it aloud..

…………………..

We were overwhelmed to see the scribble under it:

“This poem is dedicated to the Journalism students of Bhavans”

 We felt honored.

Gayatri Sundaram narrates the story of a unique mother-son relationship which sometimes may debase our prejudices and centuries old equations. It breaks all the pragmatic barriers and reaches the pinnacle of an all-for-love resolution when we came to know that the mother in the story is none other than the Nightingale of South India, S.Janaki.

If Home is a place where our mother is, Abhilash has two homes, as he is blessed with two mothers – one in Pudukad, Kerala and another one in Chennai. You might feel all the more jealous of him if you came to know who is his second mother other than the one with whom he is genetically tied up – she is no one but S.Janaki, the  undisputed melody queen of South India!!!

Getting an autograph from a person, whom we admire, is itself a great thing, bliss. Even a scribble from that hand on a piece of paper makes goose bumps. But Abhilash, who has been in a world of S.Janaki’s melodies from lullabies to fast numbers could gate-crash not only into her residence at Chennai, but as her endeared ‘Kannan’ into her heart also.

Both gates are ever open for this young Electronics Engineer from Kerala. This strange but subtle relationship outreaches all our prejudices and equations. When we came to know about Abhilash’s untiring endeavors to bring laurels to a ‘deliberately forgotten’ talent, Janakiamma, we would stand agape, as we have become habituated in the art of forgetting.

Like a dream…

When asked about their first meeting, Abhilash was elated. Like a kindergarten kid singing a rhyme, he started to narrate the flashback with speaking eyes. It pulls us back to 26 years, opens with a frame of Radhamani (his mom) cradling the baby Abhilash humming the lullabies of S.Janaki. Then the school-boy in the uniform buying cassettes of S.Janaki hits from the near by shops. (As the time passed by) then, it pans into CDs and at a time when the scene changes to Infopark, Kochi where we see him in the shoes of an Electronics Engineer, hand picking even a bit of paper in which the name S.Janaki is written. He starts collecting the songs of S.Janaki even from abroad.

Abhilash is head-over-heels in love with S.Janaki and her songs. He made all his acquaintances redounded to the advantages of getting any information or song of S.Janaki.

“Now, I have a collection of 8,500 songs of Janakiamma as recorded in CDs. And it has all the details with which the song is related to – such as the film, the music director, the actors in the scene, the category  and like….” Says Abhilash hushed as a kitten. “It was in 2004 I first met Janakiamma. At that time I was in Sharjah. I used to write in blogs about Janakiamma and thus could come across with one Dr.Sreekumar who was also an ardent admirer of Amma.”, continued an overwhelmed Abhilash. “One day I got a call from Dr.Sreekumar and he asked me ‘which is your favourite song of S.Janaki?” I said ‘Keasaadipaadam..”. Then he said that he is going to hand over the phone to someone else. Then, over that phone, I heard a voice, the one with which I have been tethered with love and piety – it was Janakiamma. She asked me to come over there and I set out to Dr.Sreekumar’s apartment as if drifting.”

A unique liaison was being created there in that apartment. The legendry singer sang for her devoted adherent his favorite songs, she started making calls to his home down in Kerala, chatting with his mother Radhamani who gave lips to her songs when Abhilash was in the cradle….Abhilash grabbed all the freedom a mother gives her son, from that skylark of South India. She prepared feasts with boiled rice for her son from Kerala, brushing aside her routine raw rice. He made frequent visits to her home in Chennai.

Once when such a feast was going on in the simply decked dining room in Janakiamma’s home, Abhilash got dumb stuck when she extended a ball of rice into his mouth. He then came to know that there is nothing like a mama-hug.

S.Janaki by Abhilash Pudukad

As the Nightingale of South India, S.Janaki hardly needs any introduction. But for Abhilash, S.Janaki is the way and destination. From the lips of his mom, through the old Sanyo tape-recorder, the way leads to a grand collection of CDs with S.Janaki’s hits decorating his newly built home. at Pudukkadu. Anyone from anywhere can ask for any filmy or non-filmy song of S.Janaki —  Abhilash is ready to give the same. Now, if S.Janaki sings a song, the cassette or CD reaches Abhilash even before it gets to the singer!!

.While talking about S.Janaki, a quiet Abhilash becomes eloquent:

S.Janaki, can be equated with Cleopatra as far as her music life is concerned.  “Age cannot wither her..nor custom stale her infinite variety…”. The evergreen singer is untainted by age, going strong and still as sweet as honey. She has got any classical training in her life. But, while listen to her singing seven ‘swaras’ with variant shades of ‘raagas’, one cannot simply believe this fact. Then if you make a call , you can hear her wheezing over the phone. Still she casually records her breathless ‘charanams’ merging into ‘pallavi’ sans any deviation from ‘shruthi’. If asked she would reply,” it’s not me; it’s Lord Krishna who sings it as you hear”.

She has been the favorite singer of M.B.Sreenivasan. M.B.S. has really ‘exploited’ her gifted voice in order to render an ethereal beauty to his songs. When Janakiamma sings for M.B.S. that song becomes endeared to everybody. With Baburaj Master also she was quiet comfortable.

Earlier Devarajan Master, the musical maestro of Malayalam, had criticized her for her voice. But in his last days he opened up  to the media :” In my musical life I had been confronted with umpteen musical personalities But out of that many, only 3 persons are really worthy to note – the first one is S.Janaki, next two are M.B.S. and S.P.Balasubramaniam..”.

Now, Abhilash is under two noteworthy missions pertaining to his Janakiamma. One is a book on S.Janaki, her life, her songs and her experiences with every song she blew life into. The second one is a Tamil Album titled ‘namma ayyappa’, of Ayyappa Devotional songs.

A song in that album by S.Janaki is based on a theme by Abhilash. “It is a lullaby written by the renowned Tamil lyricist Mr.Sada. It is my wish to make it play regularly at Sabarimala after the ‘Harivaraasanam’(a routine soothing song by Dr.K.J.Yesudas,to make the Lord sleep after every day’s pooja). This particular song is visualized as a child-less grandma singing to Baby Ayyappa. Discussions with the Devaswam Board (Temple authority) are under progress. If they agree for the same, I think it would be the greatest gift the State of Kerala can give away to a singer who has sung for its 3 generations”, winks a positive Abhilash.

Over a Padma Award?

Next thing a son has to do is to bring his home-bound mom into the limelight again. His hushed voice rises up when he talks about the ignorance and negligence, the aesthetically high Indians rendered to his gifted mom. “See, umpteen Padma Awards are being given to various known and unknown personalities across the nation each year. I am not a person to scrutinize its relevance or authenticity. But Jankaiamma hasn’t been nominated for a Padma Award unto date. She is all deserved to win such a title…”

It has been for 55 years, we started hearing the euphonic voice of S.Janaki. She has sung more than 27,000 songs in 18 various languages. With her magical voice generations shared their feels whether in joy or in sorrow. Especially for South Indians she sang for their being, stirred them with romance and nostalgia, and soothed their wounds with her mellifluous voice. Her voice became the voice of love and romance. At nights her fairy songs seduced us, charmed the youth, tempted the senses….She has been feasted the music lovers with her multi-farious voice modulations. For decades she has been mesmerizing us with her melodious renderings of lyrics whether meaty or skin-deep ……..Her range of singing spreads over the music-terrains encompassing pious, romantic, off-colored, rebellious, melancholic, comic, philosophical, fast, melodic, soothing and so on.. When she sings with the same style giving lips to a little child, its mother and grandmother simultaneously we bow to that unparallel talent which hypnotizes our conscience.

When Abhilash starts spilling over his Janakiamma’s reaches that bear all the rights to win a Padma Award, there won’t have any counter-claim with us. As such he made a written memorandum requesting the Central Government to consider S.janaki for a Padma Award. Wandering across the State of Sharjah he collected more than 1000 signatures. Those who signed in the memorandum included music whiz Shareth and singers like Madhu Balakrishnan, G.Venugopal, Devanand, Sayanora, Franco and various other film personalities other than the generations whose cradles were rocked by  S.Janaki’s songs.

Once when Mr.M.A.Baby, the Cultural Affairs Minister of Kerala visited Sharjah, Abhilash got the chance to submit this memorandum to him. “On going through the memorandum the Minster assured me that this time the first name recommended by the State would be of Ms.Janaki. But when the list of the names came out there was not even a mentioning of Janakiamma…” Abhilash remarked with chips down.

“But one day, I came to know that in a TV channel interview the Minister himself had expressed his regret on this issue. However, I pursued with the mission. Now I am in a run to knock all the doors of related authorities including the Prime Minsiter and the President with the same request again and again. But what amazes me  is that every one I approach asks me with wonder “Hadn’t she got any Padma Award yet?”. See, Janakiamma deserves it, that is why people reacts like this..” says Abhilash.

At the same time S. Janaki is sitting quiet at her home in Chennai unaware of her son’s ongoing ‘mischief’. When asked about S.Janaki’s reaction on this issue, Abhilash put his finger on the lips “Please, don’t say anything about this to Janakiamma.. She will kick me off.”

But the last time when he met S.Janaki, it was a tear-jerking milieu. Abhilash was leaving for Bahrain. After the lunch, Abhilash indirectly flung a question “What do you say about getting a Padma Bhooshan or Padma vibhooshan ?”.

Patting on his head she replied. “You are my precious jewel.. My fans across the nation are my pearls and diamonds..Then, why should I need any other ‘bhooshan’? I’m contented.”

(bhooshan and vibhooshan are Sanskrit words connoting ornaments)

Kamala Das never liked to be called as a feminist. But she spoke on behalf of the hapless womenfolk. Every woman was amazed to read Kamala’s words, as if she should have told this, if got the mote juste. Maya Krishnan talks about her life -long search for this vox populi of Indian women who were incurred to live behind the shroud of morality equated with chastity.

It was in 1992. Among other 22 students I too was attending that highly adored professor’s class. The subject was ‘Indian writing in English’. When it comes to Kamala Das, I still remember, his voice suddenly raised, more lines appeared on his broad forehead, his long hands shot to the air. In fact he was shouting “She is not a poet, she is an incessant head ache to her husband, who provided her a chance to write…”

At the end of the academic year, after the written exam, we were queuing up for the call for the viva voce, ‘in a hot noon in Malabar’. My turn came. As usual, I entered into the small cabin where three ‘top guns in English literature’ were seen waiting for a prey. As soon as I took my seat, questions came gushing from the three sides and I could answer them almost well. Then one grey-haired modest looking professor (a lady) asked, “Who is your favorite poet?”

“Kamala Das”. I answered without any hesitation.

Then they looked at each other as if I have done something taboo.

“Who is your famous prose writer?’ The second man asked. “Kamala Das” .

Again, there came a stand still. “We are asking questions about English literature. Did you get me?” The third man’s style was something sharp.

“I’m answering to the point, Sir..” I replied politely. Naturally, I expected a question like “Why?” or “Explain?”.But to my amazement, a deadly silence followed by a command, came out. “You can go”.

When the result came after two months, I got only 10 marks out of 40 for the viva voce.

‘THAT’ segment

At the academic year end, every journalism student should submit a project of his own. Forgetting all about my viva incidents, I have prepared a project on Indian Engkish writers, in which Kamala Das’ works were also included with an introspective touch. It was only a segment of that whole project. When I presented it, the Director of the institution called me up and said in a lowered voice, “ It is better if you remove this (Kamala’s) segment from your work.” “For what, sir.?.” I was anguished, since the last date of submission was nearing.

“See…” he was seen rummaging for words. “ This is to be sent to Mumbai for valuation. As you know this is not an internal assignment. So it is better…you cut this part. Because, we would be helpless if anything happened”

I had to change the whole project, within three days, as I thought it would be a tonsured head, if ‘that’ segment was removed.

Headline Hits

When got an entry in a leading news paper, I was dreaming of getting an interview with Kamala Das. All my dreams are about our encounters in various angles. At first I would scold her with smiles for chopping my marks, and then I would touch those gifted hands and would ask her to put it upon my head. While interviewing, she would sit in that royal sofa set like a queen, I would sit on the floor, my eyes lifting up as if in a prayer, listening to each sound she makes. She would ask me to sit with her. But I won’t. I would sit there until she asks me to go. On leaving, I would slowly stand up, snatch my i-pod and bag, and instantly give her a hug and a kiss and would run out.

Inside the newsroom, in my (rare) empty hours, I made lay outs of the interview with the poetess and gave a number of head lines, but contented with any.

But nobody asked me to do an interview with Kamala Das. Despite my constant requests and waiting, such a chance never came.

One day when I reached the office, a lot of hoo- haas were heard reverberating. One of my seniors was seen narrating the ‘humorous’ incidents he had the other day in an interview. All on a sudden, I heard a word ‘Madhavikkutty’ through the hoots. So I stood there for sometime. Somebody’s comment was like this, “ this is what we call the ‘the moral speech of a …… lady’. Laughter and howling cracked the news rooms. At last the article came to my desktop, depicting Kamala Das as the epitome of Indian poetry, promising poet of revolution, and like. It was for the Sunday supplement, I remember.

When I told this to my friend, she asked me to visit the poet, personally. I tried a lot for it. But, she never permitted any one at that time, as she was physically not well. Even, she never attended the phone calls, as she used to get obscene lingoes (for writing about love apart from the standardized versions), at that time. At last when she left Kerala to Mumbai, fed up of the ‘enroute receptions’ of the scabby natives, and to be with her beloved son (‘the proud’) Jaisurya, I clicked the delete button of my dream vision window. While watching her, waving hands to the crowd standing around, I was sure that it was her farewell.

Amy, the beloved

One day when I was sitting with a pen by the side of the ‘kitchen table where I would cut vegetables’, my daughter , 9 year old Amy came to me running, “Amma, I’ve written a song. I can sing it also.” And she began to sing beautifully but sadly, about the lost greenery of the paddy fields where multistoried buildings and mobile towers sprout. Visuals of a black and white poem written by a 6 year old girl, moaning over the headless dolls ‘that had to remain headless for ever’, gushed into my mind. That girl was the Amy of the royal Nalappat family with one of the richest literary lineage of Kerala.

At midnight, when my husband came back from the office, I showed the piece of poem our daughter has written, with the pride of a mother. He was thrilled to read it. Meanwhile, on the TV screen near the kitchen table scrolled the flash news: Renowned writer Kamala Suraiya passed away…..She breathed her last at a private hospital in Pune..”.

Darling, forgive…..

Renowned persons die a thousand times through the media obituaries and commemoration ceremonies. Not as a coward, as Shakespeare stated. But by the cowards who deliberately avoid or neglect them when they are alive. Subsequently a thought of rebirth (or reincarnation) kicked me back. It is said that those who could not be contended with the life on earth and those who left the world before completing their mission, would definitely have another birth in this world to fulfill their vision.

The half broken ‘Lok Seva Party’, the Krishna craving to get out of the black burqa , the country which longs for a poetry with soul and truth..and so on , a long list of incompleteness awaits for an ethereal happening on earth. At this juncture, how can a beautiful woman like Kamala Das leave this earth with peace?

When a large womenfolk ‘with endless female hungers’ waver here, but to leave ‘to save face, flaunt, at times, a grand flamboyant lust’ how can she leave them simply ‘drab and destitute’? Despite the ‘feminist howling’, when seductive visuals, gagging and gang raping incessantly showers on the adolescence, how can a Madhavikkutty keep mum atop, ‘behind their bedroom door like a brooding dog,? When the children, orphaned by the parents and ignored by the power, ‘lost way and beg at stranger’s door to receive love, at least in small change’, how can she sit idle there? When the protective law turns to be a ‘hair thin line’ of sunshine near the door’, and the girl becomes ‘cold and of no use at all to men’, Darling, forgive, how long you can resist’?

(bold lines- courtesy to the poems of Kamala Das)

The ever-crusader media has been ruthlessly criticized for its paprazzi style of gossiping,  intruding too much into the privacy of prominent persons, euphemistically in the ‘investigative’ brackets.  When the blogging rocks sensationalism and camera phones make anyone a paparazzi at the premise of an accident or celebrity, this trailing-off and ‘peeping Tom’ leniency of the mainstream media can be accounted as an accomplishment of the ‘supply according to the need’ policy with which it strives on.. Says Rajashri Iyer

Who is Sunanda Pushkar?

Until last week every nook and corner of even the remote villages in India were buzzing of these murmurs.

.Sunanda Pushkar is the one who embellishes all the Indian frames now – whether big or small- and ornaments the banners with her charming looks. Discussions and debates on ‘who-is-this’ issue fervor in the newsrooms and classrooms. Even though she doesn’t comes to limelight on her own, media across the country drag her to explode “I am not a proxy….” . That is what we and our media want to.

Going Paparazzi

Paparazzi is not at all an uncommon word for the world after the ghastly death of Princess Diana. Being celeb-obsessed, media the digital and verbal voice of the mass, tend to be on celebrity-heels in accordance with what they have taught from the journalism schools. ‘The ability to ferret through’ is the one quality required to a press person. They are ferreting to the abyss of a man/woman’s personal life to pull out the forbidden and hedonic flurries and redound it to tickle the reader/viewer. When the fast-paced tension-fed life thrusts one for a relaxation, naturally there will be a tendency towards a light-reading or to find it through the media at their finger tip. Whether it is newspaper, radio, TV, internet or cinema, people are always wanted to be entertained.

But from the four sides media in India is being flayed ruthlessly for intruding into the privacy of eminent personalities and public figures.. Had Sunanda Pushakar been a warped figure or an aged one, would media roam around her like satellites? This is the lashing slam Indian media face now-a-day. Every one laments the deterioration of the media standard to just that of a tabloid. (Tabloids are also a part of media!!!).

However, the first priority of the media is to give/supply/provide according to the needs/requirements/wants of the reader/viewer/consumer. In such a way media is to be informative. That information is to be the ‘need of the hour’– to get a niche in the priority list. Eventually, browse through the public interests and figure out the ‘most wanted’ becomes the prime job of the reporter. Perhaps the collected information will be of lesser significance in the ‘informative’ angle but may carry a tint of entertainment. That seemed to be enough for an average ‘consumer’.

When it comes to ‘human interest stories’ sometimes the fuzzy reporter gets around its social value on conditional grounds. It may not be a deliberate denial or ignorance, ‘chasing the news’ asks it while bringing the kitten out by the ‘doggy teams’ (as Chinese termed).

When Celeb-obsessed

Sunanda Pushkar was not at all a so-called celebrity until the bombastic entrance of Lalit Modi through the Twitter. Then there was a bee-line of reporters from various media to chatter and re-chatter the tweets. There were no lines between reporting and sensationalizing. Thence forth, they were under the spell of somnambulism, they drifted along the saying ‘Beauty is Truth, Truth , beauty’.

Readers guzzled their pouring, viewers gulped it without water, and net-savvies never took their hands off the mouse. What this means..? Were the media trailed off?

Recently there staged an open combat between the Chennai Film Industry and Chennai Press Industry. It began with a report dealing with a cine-actress indulged in immoral traffic activities. The Editor has been accused of false reporting and all the cinematic heart-throbs gushed to the street for his blood. Subsequently he had to apologise. For what..? -  For being ignorant of the line drawn between reporting and sensationalizing.

But the way the criminal law mechanisms have been used to arrest the news editor reminded the dark days of National Emergency in 1975.

What do you want?

Most of the newspaper-readers like sensationalism.  You can make out the style of news- paper reading of an average person, if observed. At first, a hurry browsing through the front page, searching for a color photo, something alluring. The next moment he turns the paper back and enjoys the colorful ads and some eye-catching jest or something up-to-the-minute. In the third step, he goes to the 2^nd and 3^rd page to know what is happening in his surroundings. Ultimately he reaches the obit page and halts there, index finger on his nose.

What do you understand out of this? He needs something spicy. If an accident occurs, we cry not out of our sympathy, it is a pleasure to weep over a stranger’s pain. That is simply cathartic. Otherwise, why do face book, twitter, blogs and such social networks, in their soap-boxes publish haunting blood-stained photographs which are forbidden in the newspapers and TV channels? Why every channel survives on crime reporting as a special fragment in the late night hours with enough ads?

It is stupid to whirl around such gossips when the endemic hunger and global fuming are at the threshold. But it seemed to be a matter of concern rather than a subject so succulent. Loaded mindscapes prefer the latter to stretch the limbs only to shrink into. (We feel sorry to display a haunting picture  once again through this site though made it blurred – only because we sense it is unavoidable to serve the very purpose of the content).

Beauty is Truth

No doubt, Sunanda Pushkar is stunningly beautiful even in her 40 plus and so also our ex-minister Shahsi Tharoor. I know personally, a lot of people who were least bothered  of what is happening inside the Parliament, started watching the live Parliamentary sessions after Mr.Tharoor began to charm the ambit with his ‘careless’ locks falling unto his bright eyes, the internationally adored accents slipped off his mouth.. Even when  in the hook, everybody hanging on to every word uttered by him and he reciprocated in the same vein reaching out to all with his brilliance. That is palatable about its news-worthiness. In a nut shell, people irrespective of party politics likes to hear him, likes to hear about his ‘external education’ and ‘external affairs’.

Beauty, Sports, Recession, Cinema, Sex – media purveys on these aspects some times too much. That ‘too much’ is the add-on and problem-making. Otherwise it is the accepted way for media in its rollercoaster run. It simply reflects what the majority of the populace lusts after.

Sports and Cinema

This trend is not a new-born pester-kid, but a long pampered one. That is why Anna Kurnikova had been in the limelight even though she has not received a grand slam. She was just a model exhibiting her curves and thus embellishing the sports page. So was it with Sania Mirza. Though could achieve a grand slam, she did not do enough as Saina Nehwal or P.T.Usha to their respective fields. Still media has been by her tail as the ‘vodafone pug’. Youngsters around the globe stand abate whenever she wheezes on the ground. Cameras were at vigil to open whenever her skirt moves a bit. Advertisers formed/ a bee-line at her gate for a single snap. That is why Sania-Malik marriage created ripples and waves across the nation as if at the Kargil war time.

Cinema and film personalities have been an obsession as well as a mystery to the common men since its origin. If liked, people nurture a notion, a yearning to know ‘more’ about their ‘real’ life beyond the reel. As always moral-police and culture-guard rein the mind-set, then. By the entry of mini-screen, the distance between the common men and the stars shortened and the equation has changed for better acquaintance. So it mattered if a cinematic heart-throb lights a cigarette or a ‘next-door girl’ visited a coffee shop hanging on somebody’s arms. The word ‘gossip’ has been added or promoted to an individual column or segment or sometimes a new edition in journalism. Believing that celebrities make a difference, readers throng to it and it became a motivating factor for the Press. (And Edward Egglestone has already stated that journalism is nothing but organized gossip).

Politics and Sex

Politics and Sex can be a potent blend in India where every village tea-shop is abuzz with the latest political swings, its analyses and cropping up. Indian villages are known for its creative scandal-mongers. N.D.Tiwari is the latest one in those heady-combo shots.. In the cent percent literary state Kerala, it could crash-land an off-shot air plain as well as a State Minister. In another incident, the then State Transport Minister attempted to molest a lady IAS officer    When she popped up this case another lady IFS officer came out with her similar experience when the accused was the State Minister for Forests. All these cinders were unveiled through the media blows. A lot of people came to know these scuffles and there was no way other than a resignation. Then the people said “Thank you, media”.

Shahi Tharoor-Sunanda Pushkar case is too toeing the line in this category, though there is no accusation of molesting. If there is no much fluff to plump up you will not go to check the dictionary to find the real meaning of ‘cattle class’ and ‘interlocutor’. So the only thing to go behind the sari tip of the lovely Sunanda is that being a widow she lives with all the glam and pomp of a reputed lady. She never wears white sari and sits in a corner to chant japas, instead travels across the globe with big business shots and tries to bring an independent IPL team for Kochi, in Kerala, the ground reserved only for men. When it became a ‘Politics-Sex’ combo (plus cricket) it hit the headlines, but it never exceeded those obscene scrolls in the personal Blogs and comments on the social networks regarding the affair..

Knowing the pulse

It has been a ‘near the knuckle ’ issue with god-men entangled in sex-scandals and from Sai Baba it now puts the brake with Nityananda. That also involved a film personality and thus got ample popularity. Cold-blooded crimes including police tortures are also a part of bringing out the cathartic enjoyment to the reader/viewer. Whenever there is a heart-rending accident or vandalizing calamity occurred, media never pulls back its news tubes in the name of ethics, but transforms to be a generous host. They know the pulse-  that is it.

Raps executed by the media never stops. It goes on whenever and wherever a need arises. Beyond a profession it becomes an industry. A 24-hour news channel apparently empties out if there is no ‘breaking news’ to scroll on. So it badly needs fillers which can be spicy or hot as to the choice of the viewer who keeps the remote button waving in his hand.

When it comes to the news paper, the reader needs something ‘hot’ over a cup of tea. If there is no news about a cold-blooded murder, a gang-bang, a blast, a calamity or a simple suicide or hit-and-run case, he feels lost. ‘o. nothing special today…” he will sigh.

There is no doubt that the publication of the names or photographs of prominent public figures based on confessional statement can never account as good journalism. Media should draw the line and decide where the public interest ends and private space begins.

Such ethics should be taught from the schools of journalism. But as far as the media targets their readers/viewers, it is obliged to extinguish their quest. Moreover, media especially the Print focuses mainly on lay-men and hence feels as stooped down when perceiving from an upper angle.

“… the one who has never sinned throw the first stone“,

Even after a series of physiological psychological spiritual and introspective decoding,  DREAMS have been a mystery to us since the origin of human life. But DREAMS made us what we are today, many of us escaped by it from ‘a land of unbelief and fear’, it helped us correct imbalances in our psyche… but recalling and sharing it is not as easy as ‘our memories and vocabularies are not up to that job’. Here Tadgata Choudhury does it amazingly, still ‘haunted’ and ‘affected’ by that DREAM happened years before.

We all had an experience of dreaming in our life, either it may be day dreaming or the most common night dreams that we get during our deep sleep. I feel dreams are an important part of our lives; it helps us to imagine and fulfil our wishes in the virtual world which has the touches of reality in it. Here I narrate one such story that I experienced during my early childhood days. Though years passed this dream is very fresh in my mind, still.

I was swimming in the sea shore with my friends on a bright sunny morning. We were playing and having great fun in the luke-warm water. Suddenly the sea waves surged high above my head and I got separated from my gang. The force of the waves was so strong that I could not hold onto anything and was forced to carry myself along with the waves. I kept struggling for a few minutes with my eyes tightly shut and then all on a sudden I felt that my fight was over.

When I opened my eyes I saw myself floating in the middle of the sea. I could perceive only the vast blue even though stretched my full vision. There were not any traces of the shore where I was playing nor was I able to see my peers. Somehow I managed to keep myself afloat (though I do not know swimming even in the pond water). Then something flashed in my mind and I took a deep breath and dived into the fathoms. I started exploring the sea bed and to my astonishment I saw a corpse which looks very unsullied lying with its mouth wide open and the hands tightly holding on to each other. (This man’s face is still fresh and very clear in my mind till date) I touched him softly and then out of fear I started to swim in the other direction where I found a box, having a lock, (but I do not know how I managed to open it).

When I opened the lid out of excitement I was aghast to see the box being full of semi-precious stones (as one would see in the Ali Baba’s fables). I took some of them in my hand and started swimming upwards. When I came up I saw the shore just a few feet away from my present position. I swam towards it. It was a rocky shore. I climbed up along the rocks to find a temple atop. I was making my way from one rock to the other to get to the temple.

On my way I met a sadhu who came to me and blessed me and in a soft voice said, “Don’t worry son”.  I couldn’t utter even a single word to him. He left the place parting me in that silence.  Then my eyes fell on the way to the temple stairs and I started climbing the steps frantically until I reached the corridor of the temple. I could see the orange coloured flag that was waving at full length in the sea breeze. Now  when I started taking my steps towards the temple I found that the precious stones that I was holding onto my hand tightly was not there, my hands were EMPTY.( I woke up from my sleep  and wondered as to where I am.)

It was a time of worse patch in my personal and family life when I experienced this dream. Sometimes, that uncertainty may be the cause of that strange apparition.  It is said that one’s own deep emotions that lays in his sub-conscious mind makes him dream and it takes various forms and chose various ways to reach the fulfillment of his wants and needs. Is that true?

How many of us have understood the real meaning of our dreams that we see? I guess not many but I hope, if we try we can unearth the realities and truths behind our dreams. This can help us to understand ourselves better. Sometimes can lead us through the whimsical fancies to the ultimate reality…….

Get on well with the delicate empathy ANAGHA KRISHNAMOORTHY experienced and portrayed here in her short poem. It came never through a passer by as it would usually be, but by living through the turmoils of the most difficult part of our life – understanding.

HOLDING THE SARI TIP OF HER “MOTHER”,

THERE STOOD A SWEET LITTLE GIRL OF ABOUT THREE,

SHE HAD AN INNOCENT SMILE ON HER BRIGHT FACE

WHICH REFLECTED HER FUTURE TO THE FULLEST..

WHEN I CALLED HER BY MY SIDE;SHE CAME RUNNING

I FELT AS THOUGH SHE SAW ME AS HER “MOTHER”

WE WENT FOR A STROLL AND ENJOYED THE BREEZE

JUST WHEN SHE HAD TO START QUESTIONING ME!!

WELL,I ANSWERED THEM ALL WILLINGLY,FOR ALL I KNOW..

THEN,FOR A SPLIT SECOND OR SO I STOOD DUMBSTRUCK

SHE  STARTED HER QUERIES

ARDUOUS  FOR HER AGE

AS TO WHOM DID I BELONG,WHO WERE MY PARENTS..

SENSING MY DIFFICULTY TO PUT THE ANSWERS  ACROSS,

SHE THANKFULLY WENT TANGENTIAL,

ABOUT DEERS AND DOVES, BUT..

BUT I STOPPED HER,TOOK HER IN MY ARMS AND SAID,

“I’M AN ORPHAN LIKE YOU.I HAVE NO MOTHER OF MY OWN”.

HER REACTION WAS JUST HOW I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE,

SHE LOOKED GLOOMY, SOBBED FOR LONG,

HER HEART BROKE..

HOW WILL A GIRL OF THREE VALUE THE FACT-

THAT SHE TOO HAD NO MOTHER LIKE ME?

THOUGH I VISIT THE ORPHANAGE QUITE OFTEN,

THIS WEEK’S VISIT LEFT MY HEART HEAVY

AND MY MIND THOUGHTFUL,

AS I WENT MY WAY HAULING THIS MEMORY,

OF THE INNOCENT LITTLE GIRL LED UNDISTURBED..

LED BLINDLY BY ALL THE LOVE AND AFFECTION,

FROM ALL SIDES,ALL AURA AND ALL DIMENSIONS OF HER..YET,

HOW WILL A GIRL OF THREE UNDERSTAND THE FACT,

THAT SHE TOO HAD NO MOTHER OF HER OWN??