Sometimes, inexplicable moments catch us off guard. Occasionally, an instinct or a timely nudge guides us just when we need it. That’s exactly what unfolded today! Isa, my ever-relaxed companion, rolled out of bed around 11 a.m. and promptly parked herself in front of the TV, engrossed in some captivating, brain-twisting show. Steffy had stepped out earlier but left Isa with a simple task: turn off the stove under the pressure cooker after three whistles. Easy enough, right? Well, not quite. Isa, completely absorbed in her TV marathon, lost track of time—and the stove.

I was out on the balcony, buried in my own work, when I started counting whistles in the back of my mind. Three? Five? No, we were well past ten. Something didn’t feel right. I called out to Isa to shut off the stove, unsure if Steffy was even home since I’d been so focused. Moments later, I spotted Isa shuffling into the kitchen. But she lingered there longer than expected. A gut feeling tugged at me, urging me to check on her. Dropping everything, I bolted inside.

What I saw stopped my heart: Isa, oblivious and curious, was fiddling with the still-hissing pressure cooker, trying to pry it open! The lid was seconds from giving way, a disaster teetering on the edge. I don’t know what came over me—panic, instinct, or something else—but I yelled at her to get out of the kitchen. She bolted, and thank goodness she did. The cooker’s lock had loosened just enough to hold the lid in place, sparing us from what could’ve been a catastrophe.

Later, Isa admitted she had no idea the cooker could explode. It hit me hard: these are the kinds of things we need to teach our kids—how everyday objects like stoves, pressure cookers, gas cylinders, electrical outlets, medicines, or even pesticides, often within arm’s reach, can turn dangerous in a flash. I paused to thank God for what felt like a miracle, a perfectly timed intervention. Moments like these make me believe there’s a bigger plan at work. I really do.

"Should I become a lawyer?" my elder one, now in her 8th grade, asked with a serious look on her face. 

"I think it would be fun to be a business owner," chimed in the younger one, a spirited 4th grader. 

I chuckled to myself, not because their ambitions weren't valid, but because I hadn’t given serious thought to their careers yet—probably because I'm still figuring out my own (haha). 

But I knew this moment called for something more meaningful than a casual, offhand remark. So, I took a deep breath and told them two things.

"Firstly," I said, "you must aim to be independent in life. Independence doesn't mean being solitary; it means having a distinct vision for your life and making your own decisions with confidence."

They nodded thoughtfully, absorbing my words. 

"Secondly," I continued, "aim to be a happy person, no matter what. Happiness is most rewarding when it springs from within you, rather than relying on others to provide it."

My philosophy might not have been the most entertaining lecture they’d ever heard, and it certainly wasn’t the kind of career advice one expects. But it felt right. I glanced at them in the rearview mirror, hoping my words resonated in some small way.

Soon enough, they went back to listening to their favorite song, their faces lighting up with the joy that only music can bring. I smiled, content with the evening’s impromptu lesson, and drove on, the road ahead open and full of possibilities for all of us.

Hiiii, im just sorting this!

I denied doing a favor. Purposely and so wittingly for the first time in my memory. The boy who waved his hands from the bus-stop wouldn't have felt bad as much as I did, mostly because he would be doing it every day for commuting and a thousand of other bikers would be doing what I just did. The bike was not at a great speed, even though I did not bother to stop and further tried to hurry through the quiescent traffic before Akruti park road in Andheri East.

Would the boy have actually felt bad? Or did I do the right thing, by not stopping, so that eventually the boy would realize that no one would stop for him and revoke this habit of asking for lift? What if a kidnapper halts for him? Or if a molester tries to lure him with a lift? Am I justifying myself?

I'm seeing this Matrimonial ad since last 2 years, if I'm not wrong. Same girls, same face, same names! If these people can not get grooms for such beautiful girls in the last 2 years, what is the whole purpose of doing this? My humble doubt! :)

Yes, if we analyze, the missed opportunities are much more than the scored ones. Frustrations are more prevailing than those cheering moments and applause! But a goal, even if only one in the entire game, makes for all the 'misses' and keeps us walking heads up!

Warning; be sure you are not shooting at your own post :)

Bye, I need to sleep now.

There is some kind of ecstasy I feel, whenever hearing about FIFA World Cup. Though my country is not eligible to play in it, even though it's not my national game, I feel within me, a kind of addiction towards this game of the world.

I heard that in Kerala, there is a parallel mock World Cup, comprising of many local clubs named after those legendary soccer countries like, Brazil, Argentina, England, Germany etc. Their local heroes, though in front of a local audience and for a very short time, would play as the legendary players like Messi, Ronaldo, Beckham etc. Whoever wins or losses, the game of Football will win ultimately.

I support Argentina, England, Portugal and Japan! Who will you yodel for?

To download FIFA WORLD CUP Schdule as per IST, please click here.

Yes, coming very fast! Should we wait or should we run?

What melts my eyes most is my mother's love. Without the love she bestowed in me, I wouldn't have been able to write this, today.

The blames she received on account of her naughty sons and daughter, the nights that she forgot to sleep in our study room, the tensions she had willfully gone through during our examinations, the variety of food she made everyday against each one’s demand and the disapprovals whenever the food did not click, the silences and deep breaths when we gave her hurts, the smiles that we failed to recognize; her life has been fared bad!

Despite all this, I go ahead and wish her a Happy Mother’s Day and kisses! This wouldn’t make any difference but I think from this moment, I can make myself a better son to her!

And your mother! I wouldn’t know her, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing her! Here is her Happy Mother’s Day! Convey my love to her!

Mother; she knows only to love, but when we are not there to recognize her love, we are stopping a river from flowing, a flower from blossoming and spreading its fragrance around!

Dessert: I used to call my mother 'Aunty' till I became 4 years old. I had learned that from my elder cousins who used to stay with us during then and call my mother 'Aunty'.

We woke up listening to the untimely ring of the land phone! It was about 5 in the dawn! I kept listening to Ebie, who took the call! The deep sighs and dismay in her voice clearly told me that someone had passed away. In vain, I prayed and waited for something better from her tongue.

It was about a neighbor's death in Thrissur.

I'm particularly afraid of calls incoming early morning! I somehow feel that those are only to announce a dear one's death! They come only to keep us up on the bed, thinking the most painful thoughts. They come only to talk about someone's journey, a never ending journey.

Let's switch off the way we use the natural resources! Let's spread the message! Let's join with the world and shut down the power from 8:30 PM to 9:30 pm today.

Click to know more about Earth Hour

Story of an old man goes this way! A young boy saw an old man planting a mango tree on the roadside.
The young boy asked, 'Uncle, what foolishness are you doing? It would take several years for this plant to become a tree and bear fruits on it; by that time, you would probably be no more"

The old man replied; "Son, I know that I would die soon and would never get to eat a fruit from this tree, but tell me something, by the time you grow up and when you want to eat mangoes with friends, where will you go for it? That is why I'm doing this, this is for you and not for me"

When Karunakaran sir was teaching this story on the 1st standard of N.S.S LP school in choorakode, I did hardly understand the meaning behind it. But now today, in the midst of recession, global warming and Tsunami, the moral of such a story becomes the only hope. Switching off lights for 1 hour wouldn't save us from the threatening power shortages and immediate death of natural resources. But this can serve a strong message to thousands of minds, reminding them of this great duty they are otherwise about to miss, doing for their future generations!

Once again, let's switch off and pass the message!

During my first local- train journey in Bombay and I got caught by a ticket examiner at Dadar. I had thrown away my ticket after the one way's travel, never realizing that my ticket was meant for two way journey.

On my first attempt at an ATM near Wadala, the card was wrongly inserted and it was eaten up by the machine. On the bank, I could not reproduce my signature. Hence I waited till the card came back to my address.

The first ride on my brand new bike. I got caught at Kandivli, as the bike was not yet completely registered.

Prabhachechi had called just like that. She wanted to call me 'santhane' after a long time. That is how she calls me from childhood. (She used to call Achachan as 'Paatta' till lately; which means a cockroach in Malayalam. She also keeps an ‘edie-podie’ relationship with Amma. So comparatively, I've been fared decently).

As the talk ploughed down, she asked "Santhane, have you sent any SMS to Achachan last week?"

I said "No.. I haven't"

"Sure?"

"Yes I’m sure, but what SMS?"

"With Kisses and all"

"What??"

"Yeah.. Seems like a SMS from Ebie"

"Whaaaaat? Ebie has sent to Achachan?"

"No.. It is from your number.. So you must have sent it"

"What else there in that"

"Yey, Nothing much!! Some more kisses.. That’s all". She stopped, giggling.

I cut the phone. SMS from Ebie has been forwarded to Achachan! Whataplight? Whattosay? Whattodo?.

I called again and asked her to delete it. She said she had already discussed the happenings with Vino and Jaiho (Jaimol) and now there was no meaning in deleting it!

Previously, Vino had forwarded a message to Ebie that wrongly went to Daddy (Ebie's Pa). The content was like this "Nee po Maramakri" (Frog).
You will be surprised to know that this had happened even before our wedding has been fixed. Daddy was upset for sometime because he did not know who had sent this to him. Apologies had been made.

SMS. Short Messaging Shockers!

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Beggars normally won't get a chance to be choosers, but they can be effective sellers at times! That's what I had witnessed last week at Mahim and made me stand awestruck for a minute.

As I was already late to start off for Mahim church last Wednesday, I thought I should not park my bike, which would eat up at least 15 minutes to park, and five rupees. Instead, I chose to stand beside the church, on the main road itself, while our 3G, ('the Sreejith'), who was with me, had gone to offer his prayers. It was then I saw the 'beggar business' around me.

Like bees surrounding a hive, there were hundreds of beggars around the premise and sadly, a large number of them begged not for their stomach's yearnings, but for their nerves' cravings (by consuming drugs and alcohols). I could also see a lot of donators, who (rather than giving monies in the wrong hands), lavishly gave eatables like biscuit packets, bread-packs and sandwiches to these beggars.

The business started soon after each donor left. As I closely watched the entire scene, I saw many 'collectors' coming and buying these ready-made food packets from 'selected' beggars and going back (I guess to the shops again). They gave some money to the beggars per packet, which was seemingly a half of the actual price. This means, for a 10 Rupees Buiscuit he received, a beggar could get 5 Rupees from the collector. Look again, 10 biscuits = 50 Rupees.

A mini-political style right?

Why shouldn't we nominate these 'begsinessmen' to parliament? They could play a Financial Advisor role!

I have two close friends, Kartheesh, who was my classmate during PG, and Nagaraj, my colleague at Yahoo. Both are sons of Tamil Nadu!

I normally start my conversation with these guys with a fight in vernacular.

"Enikk innariyanam... mullapperiyarile vellam jnangalkku kittumo illeyonnu!! (Translation- I want to know right away, whether we, Keralites can take the water from Mullaperiyar Dam or not)

Or

Nee Jayaramine idikkarayi alleda?? (Are you upto beating our actor Jayaram, huh?)

Or

"Tharilleda...pachavellam tharilla jnan... nee aadyam ulliyude vila kurakk, ennittavam bakki" (No.. I won't give you even a drop of water.. first of all you cut down the price for Onions, we will talk afterwards")

Finally Kartheesh stopped calling me. Nagaraj, I fear, will take me to Dharavi and beat me up with his Gunda leaders there.

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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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