Standing at Kandivali railway station in the mornings at around 9 AM would remind us of many cruel facts of life including the Darwin's 'Survival of the Fittest'. Trains would come and go, but no one would get in or get out except some muscle-powered-friends. In between, many of the Lilliputs like me would get hurt, tampered, pulled down, walked and ran over, sandwiched and bread-rolled by the maddened crowd or sometimes even ‘bubblegummed’ by the iron-hearted trains. Some others would climb the trains' roofs in search of solitude, but most often their destiny would meet up with an 'electrified ending.'

I had been a regular Local train commuter from Kandivali to Lower Parel in the mornings. There had been days when I pitied myself for waiting endlessly for a less-crowded train which I could aboard safely. In the very first glimpse, if the train had given me some hopes, symbolically looking like a sprout on the empty horizon, it would come closer soon, but only to encourage frustrations on my physicality and disquiet on the will-power dysfunction. Most often, the trains weren't fully crowded, but the unconcerned scoundrels standing at the doorway would make it hazardous for others to get in, so that they could stand comfortably. Within the few seconds' halt, the trains would move on, accompanied by rags and paper-scraps in the air, appearing like curses from the thousands who were left behind, thwarted.

One day, after leaving almost half a dozen of trains, I decided to board the forthcoming train any how. By the time the train arrived, I prepared myself for the impending fight, taking a deep breath to hold as much Oxygen and stretching my hopeless muscles to get-set-go at the right time. As the train came, I somehow managed to get hold of the train's door clamp. Except my palms and edges of my shoes, the whole body was out of the train and as the train started to move, I realized that the person standing in front of me was so unconcerned about moving into the compartment. My pushes ended on him as he was a senseless bulky mass of human flesh. The laptop bag hanging on my back aided my worries as each moment go, it weighed more. The train had gained a good speed by then, like the non-stop bhajan started by a group of passengers, was reaching its culmination. The next station was nowhere in the visibility as I stared earnestly. It became difficult for me to stand anymore.

My hands became weak and body shivered. I tried telling the fellow that I was about to fall down. He did not listen. In the next moment, I hit the man with my right hand using all the power left in me! He screamed and pushed himself into the compartment. Like a meek attachment on him, I too got in.

What followed was very shameful! The man undressed his mouth and wielded his dirty tongue mossy of bad words! Suddenly the bhajan stopped, the talks stopped and all eyes got fixed on me and the giant man. All his abuse was in Hindi or Marathi and hence I did not understand almost all of it. However, I felt bad for what I did.

"Pudi station.. Andheri" The Announcer reminded! The giant man's screaming now came to an end as he got stuck between the door and a huge crowd that was pushing him towards the door. He was forced to get down at Andheri and while getting back to the train, he again got himself fixed on the door panel!

No one was seen beyond him.


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Let there be color-bottles being crushed on your Head! Let there be color-slaps all the way you go home! Let there be color bombs blasting at your home!

Let there be rainbows bowing in front of you! Yeah, all through this year!

Wishing you all the CMYK and RGB Colors! Wishing you a Happy HOLI-DAY!

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Hi,

I have bought a new 'Gown' for my Blog; A pepper-colored party wear! It has two praiseful wavy fillets on both the sides, which is enough to have a lot of useful scoops from now on!

Leave a comment on how it looks like!

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There is this story of Hibiscus.

We have a cousin, Sijo, who is only a few years younger to me. She was part of our Childhood gang in Edamon. Now she is working in some hospital in Delhi I guess, and not in constant touch with us. But thinking of our childhood esplanades, this forgetfulness is not fully acceptable.

Now our story.

When she was about 4 years old, Vinod and I, used to keep Hibiscus flowers on her pillow every night after making sure that she was asleep. In the mornings, she used to get anxious about the same and we had an answer, some Gandharvans must have kept it for you.

She was kind of loving the never seen Gandharvan and Hibiscus flowers.

I want my childhood back!

I again want to walk through the Rubber trees and make cricket balls with 'ottukara!'

I again want to catch the smell of ‘chenathandan’ and get cautious.

I again want to stop at Kumar's house and pick him to play with us.

I agan want to ride my 'Captain' cycle my Achachan brought for me from Sengottai and I again want to take Vino and Prabha on it.

I again want to sleep with my grandparents, ha!!

I want to darken my mustache again!

I still want to run down the mountain as we come back from the church in Edamon!

I want to get beaten by my teachers once more!

I again want to wave my hands to the meter-gauge train that passes by my home, and collect as many garlands thrown by Ayyappans!

I again want to miss a homework and write an imposition!

I again want to get taught by Amma! My pavam amma!

I again want to hide under a ‘vazhayila’, escaping from the rain and slowly get wet completely!

I want to see our cow, Mini and her children for the last time!

I again want to tie an ‘Oonjal’!

I again want to climb trees!

I again want to pick coins from Achachan's drawer and deny it till he finds it out.

I again want Ammachi's ‘Moru curry’.

I again want to make cigarretes from ‘chakiri’ and smoke it with my brother.

I want to go back once more!

Please take me back! Once more please?

(Glossary for those who do not know Malayalam)
Ottukara - the dried up latex on the tap mark on a rubber tree. One can tie it to make real rubber balls.
Chenathandan- a common snake in Kerala, which has no poison./ Smell of Chenathandan - An unpleasant smell of a kind of wild flower.
Ayyappans- the pilgrims of Sabarimala, who used to throw garlands towards us, the group of Children..
Vazhayila- Plantain leaf. One can easily stand under it during rain, but if the winds come, you will be cheated!
Oonjal- A swing tied on a tree as part of Onam in Kerala.
Moru curry- A tasty curry from Kerala, which is made from curd. Our Grandmother used to make the tastiest Moru curry we ever had.
Chakiri- Coconut shell's grains. We two used to fill this into a paper roll and smoke them as cigarettes. One day we go caught, and the story needs another post here.

Sorry, I meant to say, India is Shining in the ever-glowing, never-dying lights of Bombs!

This is Panikkathi, one of the heroins in this LIFE. We have done something terribly wrong to her by not calling her for the two weddings in my family. Since my wedding as well as my brother's wedding had happened within the span of two weeks in last August, there was less time for our memory to throw light on this great companion of three generations in our family.

However, we have washed a part of this sin-stain by visiting her in Edamon and took her back to our current home, at Nediyara (Close to Anchal).


And in the lucky-draw conducted during the Onam celebration at home, it was she, who won the prize money (there was only one). After every one had gone, she asked me whether I purposely gave her the prize by writing her name on all the coupons. I was smiling, but denied it saying, 'she was indeed lucky'!

Highly Inflammable! That could best describe our Achachan. Anger comes to him naturally, but more often, unintentionally.

As mischievousness was the most salient quality we two, Vinod and I, had, we were like lighters in front of a petrol bomb. We were staying at a village called Kilivayal, close to the town Adoor, where Achachan worked.

We returned from school only to play Cricket with all the neighborhood boys. Our friends involved almost all boys around our house, and that friendship was beyond every casts and creeds. Siju, Boban, Alby, Shiju, Anish, Suresh, Satyan, Sujit, Bhanu, Kalesh, Libu, etc were the major members belonged to our team we called ‘Kilivayal 11'

Most of the time we played on ground of St. Cyril’s College (where our Achachan teaches, even today). As the professor's children, we had an easy access to the College premises and ground and this had also helped us in tapping much respect from our friends.

Other times, after the harvest season and monsoon, we could use Edathundil Appachan's rice field as the play-ground. All the boys preferred this as it was much broader and the land had by now grown fresh grass which was soft and satiny. On this field, we could act like Jhontys and Yuvrajs as fielders.

Wherever was the ground, and whatever was the match, we had a strict timeline from Achachan to return home by 6 every day. After his daily works and friend-meets, he would come back home and wait in the sit-out of our rented home, (which also belonged to Edathundil Appachan), reading a newspaper. Repeatedly, he would raise his head and see whether we were coming from play. As you would have expected by now, most of the days we played beyond gone beyond six and six thirties. But Achachan could not catch us every time, as we used to come by a back-side route and sneaked into home using the back door. Amma had been the only witness to our 'we-have-been-here-since-long' kind of strolling through the kitchen door and those almost-silent murmurs exchanged between us. She never used to reveal our 'crash-landing' though. But whenever we got caught by Achachan for being too late, either he would give us a deadly stare, which was severe than a stone pelt, or, though rarely, some minor 'caning treatments'

One day there was this cricket tournament we declared against Vayala, a village close by. The stake was nothing less but 5 rupees! :). The match was pretty cutthroat, and both the teams played hard to win the prize money. At the end, somehow it ended up in a verbal fight. And by the time we reached home, it was close to eight o clock. After having a bath at the well itself, we slid into the house through the kitchen door like usual, but directly landed up in front of Achachan who was sitting in the prayer room. He was really angry seeing us coming at such an odd time.

Breaths got stuck between the befuddling tension we were going through. Till now he had not opened his mouth at all but it was obvious that a lot of words have already piled up against us and plodding on his tongue, impatiently. Slowly he made us to see that he was intentionally looking at the cane that was kept near the window. We also gave it an unfriendly look and we got the clue (as expected). It was a new cane, freshly cut from the nearby communist pacha (Munnani, we call the plant).

As Prabha (our all-time negotiator to Achachan) had already started with the daily-evening prayers, he felt like postponing his decision on us till the prayer ends. It was more painful to wait for the punishment than to get it at the moment. We also took part in the prayer but passively. Our minds were full of the upcoming moments.

After the prayer songs, it was time to read from the Bible. At his turn, Achachan took the Bible, and started reading aloud. He looked like too much tensed about his boys' irresponsible attitude on life as he flipped the pages towards the New Testament. His first verse came like this; "pishachakunnu ningalude pithavu"! (John 8:44- You belong to your father, the devil). Alas! We raised our heads unbelievably. He had stopped reading there but was still looking into the Bible.

A second later, Achachan laughed aloud. In the next few moments what we witnessed was one of the greatest laughter rounds in our home. We could not believe he actually got to read it. Amma judged that he deserved it, as she never liked our 'angry Achachan'.

In the end, he forgot about the punishment and we hid the communist pacha in right time.

Jesus saves. Yes!

Whenever the sisters from Powai convent meet Femin chettan, they will have only one subject to talk about; Agnes, our Aggie. It is because Aggie now goes to the play school runs by the sisters and her talks become big-talks around there and among all who know Aggie.

Deena sister revealed the latest Aggie-talk to Femin chettan yesterday. After seeing the Sister in the same nunnery uniform every day, Aggie couldn't help pouring her heart out to Sister sometime last week. As she thought the Sister doesn’t have as many clothes to change everyday, she had an offer in mind; "Sister I will ask my amma to get you new clothes when she comes from the US"

What to tell back, the sister just nodded.

She was on a month's trip to Washington with her Appa, to meet her Amma, Jilly. In her own words, her schedule also contained a glance of 'Obama uncle' but she told us that he did not come out while she was out there. (This is what Femin chettan made her to believe, I think).

After coming back to India, though she did not have much of a 'Jet Lag' as expected by us, she had enough of something we felt as an 'Eat Lag' as she was busy trying a Fork on a chapatti.

What attracted us more was not anything above, but her recent multilingual talk-attempts as she approached one by one. While she asked 'Paani' to her maid, 'Water' was that she asked to her Aunty. And it was 'Vellam' she wanted from Ebie.

As Aggie-talk goes on like this, let's wait for something funnier very soon.