RAINBOW

The sorrow was overwhelming. She cried till there were no tears left. Still the heart ached for a long time. Finally she took the wooden block she had bought the day before, brought her tools and started carving. She carved till the block became a shape only she could recognize as herself. Then she took her paint brush. She closed her eyes and all the grief in her heart flowed to the paint brush. It flowed endlessly, till she felt light, light like a cranium bolt. The paint brush was dripping with black color. She painted her carved shape till the brush was clean again. The shape- the Shape- became black as night, and she felt very, very happy.

Next day when she went out her friends complimented- hey, you look so fair and pretty. She laughed and laughed until her face ached. Then she didn’t want to laugh anymore. She didn’t want to be so happy. So she went home, took her brush and the Shape again. Her happiness flowed out, the paint brush dripped with white color. She painted the Shape so the brush was clean and the Shape was black and white. She went out again, went to the market. She saw a group of hooligans teasing a girl passing by, and she felt angry. Her face flushed, and the boys looked at her started whistling. She felt the anger boil within her, blinding her, she took a brick and threw at the boys. She ran back, still furious, sweating and simmering and panting. She went into the room, closed the door, snatched the brush and instantly it became blood red. She felt peaceful. She painted the Shape and it got its red beauty. Then someone started knocking the door, someone shouting, saying that she injured a boy very badly with the brick. She started shivering. Fear crept through her. Someone was trying to break open the door. She took the brush again with shaking hands, but felt her hands steady soon, as the brush became blue. She painted the Shape again with blue strokes and felt at peace. She opened the door coolly, and looked at the crowd with hatred. They were shouting, but she didn’t care. Her indifference and absolute chilling calm got to their nerves. They left one by one.

She returned to her sanctuary and painted, painted until she got rid of her yellow hatred, green jealousy, violet love, brown playfulness, and every other color of every single emotion. She felt utterly weightless, emotionless and non-existent. She looked at the mirror and was surprised to see only a bright orange. Then she painted the surprise on the Shape, and she became totally colorless, totally transparent and almost invisible. She glided through the door, past the streets, into the landscape, over the mountains, like a colorless cloud, and became one with nature.

And the Shape? The Shape choked and choked with the emotions it could no more contain, until it exploded. It exploded violently, scattered into tiny pieces and the pieces all burnt in their own fire. Until nothing was left, not even the soot.

HAIRFUL!

'Next presentation- Roll number 22, come in front with your product, quick!' I said. I was getting impatient. But for one or two, none of the designs were up to the mark. This was my first Product Design class for the batch, and I expected good work from the students. But I was getting disappointed.

Roll no.22 came with her product design and displayed it. I hardly heard her start the presentation because I was admiring her hair. I looked at the register for her name and found it- Lillian. She started speaking about the wonderful blunders that made up her unfinished product. I didn't care. By now I was getting used to the low quality works. My eyes were focused on the extraordinary, wavy, soft, long dark hair. It was so very beautiful! Each time she looked at me, trying to impress me with some feature she had thought of, I had to try mightily to take my eyes off her hair and look at her face. Her face was pretty, thanks to her age, but not beautiful. She had a slender figure, she was wearing a tastefully chosen T-shirt and jeans, and she could pass for a pretty young girl, pleasing to the eyes, nothing more, nothing less. But the hair was stunning, and she had tied it in a pony-tail with a hair band.

'..so, that is about the whole functionality of the product, sir. Sir..?' I suddenly woke from my trance. 'Sir, please comment about it', the junior faculty who was there with me listening to her Product Design presentation nudged me. I looked at Lilian, at her product that had nothing much to offer, and then back at her. 'Open your hair', I said. Total silence. 'Excuse me, sir?' Lilian said. My junior colleague who was there with me evaluating the presentations, looked at me open-mouthed. I repeated what I said. 'Open your hair, let it fall freely' I did not feel any awkwardness in asking her to do it, and I wasn't surprised when she obliged. And what a sight it was! The wavy hair got its freedom from the hair band and flowed like a beautiful waterfall, ending peacefully in a river and moving rhythmically. I smiled. 'Take your product descriptions. Roll no.23, present your product' I said. Lilian walked to her seat, and I marked her 25 out of 100, before looking at the next person's presentation.

Me asking a girl student to open her hair during a presentation was spicy gossip among staff and students for a few days. Me, a chronic bachelor in his late thirties, suddenly falling for a student and all. I didn't notice it much, I think Lilian enjoyed the attention and the sudden spotlight. But then new gossips came in, exam fury set in, and the episode was soon forgotten.

I was sitting in my staff room one afternoon, entering the final grades of the students, when Lilian came in without knocking. Mildly irritated, I asked her what the matter was. By now we were quite familiar with each other, as I was with everyone in their class. She smiled and asked politely if she could see her grades. I said, 'Not now, it will be published tomorrow'

Gently she closed the door behind her and said, 'No sir, I want to see it now. I know I have horrible grades. So I want you to give me not minimum, but very good grades'

'How dare you-?' I was furious. But she was calm. In a chilling, low voice she said- 'Oh you will do it sir. If you don't I will just cry out aloud now. The whole institute will gather here and I will tell them how you tried to take advantage of me. They will believe. They know how much you admire my hair.' She smiled again, showing her teeth, and I seethed. But I knew I had no choice. I calmed down considerably and weighed my options. I could not give good grades to her and fail the rest of the class who were in the same boat as her. Which means the whole pathetic class will pass, and get good grades. My conscience did not allow this, but I could not afford to be called a teacher who molests his students! So I said-' OK,  I'll do it, now get out!' She said, 'Thank you sir, as a return gesture, I shall let you touch my hair' She turned around swiftly, untied her hair, and the waterfall flowed again. Before I could control myself my hands were on her hair, caressing the soft, lustrous, fragrant, silk like threads. I closed my eyes. It felt as if my hands were moving through something so delicate that if I made a fast movement, the whole thing would just evaporate. So I carefully, gently moved my hands through the waves. 'That's enough, sir', She said suddenly, turning around. She smiled and was out of the room in a moment and while closing the door, said 'Sir, don't forget the marks'. Now, incredibly, I also smiled.

At the start of the next semester, after a month's vacation, I was standing at the Institute's gate, waiting for Lilian. Results were out long back, she and her classmates scored bare minimum in all other subjects, except mine, in which they got very good grades. After the incident in my room, I couldn't stop thinking about Lilian and her hair. Whenever I saw her at the Institute I tried talking to her, bu she always smiled politely and replied to my questions before moving on. Then the vacation started and my heart, my whole being, ached for a glimpse of her and her hair. But she went abroad to be with her parents, and I had to content myself with the occasional Facebook updates and pictures. I counted days and waited. And finally, the big day arrived. New semester. First day. I decided to open my heart to her today. I knew I might be laughed off- I was old enough to be her uncle- even father. But I had to meet her and tell her, otherwise I would die, I thought.

Her chauffeur-driven Audi came and stopped in the parking lot. My heart started beating faster and I walked ahead. She got out, I looked at her, and then at her hair. She was wearing a blue silk scarf, completely covering her head. I walked up to her, I was dying to see those waves. She saw me, smiled, and said 'Good morning, sir. How are you?' 'I am fine', I said. Then as she was walking towards me she took off her scarf. My heart skipped a beat and then completely stopped. Tears welled in my eyes. She had cut off the whole of the beautiful, unearthly hair! I could not speak. Then she came to me and whispered, ;Professor, sir, your eyes are wet. What happened? Are you unwell?' 'No, my child. But what happened to your hair?' I asked. 'Oh, that.' She smiled again. I was preparing myself to hear the worst news- that she had to undergo some major treatment due to some unheard of and fatal disease, which required her to cut her hair. But she said simply. 'I cut it off, sir. It was becoming a nuisance in the hot summer. Besides, I never liked the long hair, I kept it for my mother, but last week I convinced her to let me cut it.' Then she looked at me closely. 'Sir, are you crying?' I could not stop myself. I mumbled- 'Lilian, I loved your hair so much...' I almost choked. She looked at me for a second, then laughed out loud. 'Sir, you are crazy, aren't you?' She laughed again and walked off. Tears became waterfall and streams and I broke down and wept.

OLD WINE

One of the first words he learned as a toddler was Death. He did not know what it meant exactly but he thought of it as something heroic. He saw ants and insects dying, and keeping still, something he could not do at all. When he started using sentences he repeated obsessively, 'I killed a mosquito, the mosquito died'. He watched superheroes killing villains and imagined himself a superhero freeing the world of evil. Then as a child he understood that Death took people away, even loved ones, never to return. He spent many sleepless nights fearing the unspeakable- what if Death took his most beloved person in the whole world- his mother- away? That was when he started believing in God and he prayed to Him to spare her.

During History classes in school Death became heroic again. This time he knew there were no demons, but enemies. He fought enemies, he wanted to die in a war, saving his people, his country. He became active in school politics and soon started fighting for student rights. During the many rebellions he imagined himself dying on the field fighting for a cause. Then that lost its charm, too.

When he met the second most wonderful girl (next to his mother) on earth, he wrote love poems with his own blood, and proclaimed to die for his noble love. When she refused to go out with him he thought of jumping off cliffs, and when she still was not bothered, he got bored. So he bought his first motorbike. While zooming past cars on the highway he glanced sideways and saw Death travelling with him. He winked, and the next moment he saw the huge truck looming right on to his face. He swerved and fell to the curb and at that precise moment saw Death winking and zooming past him. He sighed gratefully and smiled.

Wife and life took over; fancies and adventures were soon forgotten. As years moved swiftly, Death took many of his loved ones, and he saw that life still moved on. Grandchildren came, they boasted of killing demons, they boasted of becoming war heroes. He just smiled proudly. A bout with a serious illness made him think he was about to meet Death, but that too passed.

And at last, after a long and wholesome life, he rested on his bed, surrounded by his large family and friends. He smiled at each of them, offered a comforting word, and behind them, in the corner of the room he saw a strange, yet so familiar face. Face of his old friend, his forever co-traveler. He extended his hand which his friend shook firmly, and took lovingly, as they embraced. ‘Time to go’ He nodded, took a long, last glance at his world, smiled, and as they walked off, he looked Death in the eyes and said, ‘I like this happy ending, friend’.

KILLING THE DEMONS

3 January 2015

Another abridged translation from Malayalam original.

KILLING THE DEMONS

She came upstairs when her twin boys started making all sorts of noises to let her know they were awake. She hugged her three year olds- the Sun and Moon of her life- with pure joy, and kissed them all over. They giggled, and pulled her to the cot. 'Sit, mumma, sit here for sumtime'. They insisted. Her holidays were festive days for them. She would play with them, take them out to park, would give them an oil massage, let them play in water for a long time, and she would let them watch cartoons. Their granny never lets them watch TV. They love their granny, she tells them stories, sings for them, and teaches them how to pray to their favorite God and superhero Lord Krishna. But all the stories she used to tell them come alive only when they actually watch them on TV. After watching the childhood stories of Krishna, they would role-play, which is a lot of fun to watch. So she lets them watch it. She thought of the other day Devan climbed on top of a chair and Kannan tried to climb over him trying to take 'butter' hanging from the ceiling fan. She came to the room just in time to save them from falling and breaking their legs. If granny hears the story all three would get nicely from her, so mother and kids all kept silent about it.
'Mumma, see Krishna is dancing on Kaaliya's head', Kannan said and he started jumping on a pillow. Not to be outsmarted, Devan tried to raise a pillow with all his might saying it was Govardhana. She sat there watching the antics and laughing her head off. Their father stays at his workplace in another city and comes every weekend, and those two days the three of them take over the whole house, playing and laughing and wrestling and what not. The boys miss him on weekdays, so she tries to make up for it in every way she can.
'Mumma, now you be the Whirl wind demon', Devan started urging. The Whirlwind demon story was one of their favorites where the demon picked up a baby Krishna and took him to the sky, where Krishna killed the demon by choking him. 'OK', she said, and she took Devan in her arms and he jumped and sat on to her back. She made sounds as if she cannot carry Krishna's increasing body weight. Devan laughed and pressed his index finger on a particular spot on her throat. She felt difficulty breathing- he has observed the exact spot where Krishna in the animation presses his finger on the demon's throat. She tried to remove his hand, and then Devan caught her hands in a tight grip. Kannan was talking to himself, telling some story. Then in his absent-minded way he took the bed sheet and put on her face- 'Thus Krishna choked the demon, and the demon fell crying 'aaarghhh'' he was yelling. She tried to fight off the bed sheet covering her face, but she could not release her hands from Devan's grip and the bed sheet was getting entangled and was tightening around her face and neck. Unable to see their mother's bulging eyes and helpless face beneath the bed sheet, the little boys giggled with pure pleasure of the play.

********************************************************************************
 When her daughter who went upstairs to bring her kids had not returned after half an hour, granny listened intently. Sound of a muted cry came from top. 'Devan must have done some naughty antic, and she must have pinched him for that. This female! I have told her a hundred times not to beat up or pinch the sweet little ones. She wouldn't listen. Today I have to end it.' Talking thus to herself granny climbed the staircase, reached the upstair bed room and opened the door. There she saw her grandsons, softly crying, each pulling a hand of their mother, calling out to her to please wake up and come and play with them. She took two steps, then froze, for lying between the kids was her own daughter, forever still.

RESEMBLANCES

My old friend had come down from Canada for a vacation. We spent a whole day chatting, reminiscing, having fun. Then during the eighth cup of coffee I told her- I have a student who looks a lot like you.
Are you sure? Can I see her photo?
I was surprised to see the enthusiasm. I showed her our college Onam celebrations' photos on my PC. She looked, then looked away. Tears welled up.
What happened? I asked.
She said, quietly. I was surrogate mother once while in Canada, many years back, when we needed the money. 
It was my turn to look away.

RANDOM WRITINGS ON 'THE WALL'

August 17, 2015

People and relationships are like plants in a person's life landscape. Some offer shade, some offer flowers, fragrance, fruits, company of birds..Some are only weeds, some insignificant. Some have thorns hidden behind beautiful flowers, waiting to hurt. Some are wild, growing without any control..It is upto the person to decide which plants should be watered and nurtured so they grow enriching the landscape, and which are the ones to be removed- the plants that the landscape is better off without..

August 15, 2015

If one reaches a point in life where one is required to compulsorily erase all memories from life and is allowed to keep only one memory of one's choice, what will be that single most precious memory?
Funny how that filters out every thought that is irrelevant and inconsequential..

May 8, 2013  

Darwin's theory says- "Natural selection acts to preserve and accumulate minor advantageous genetic mutations. Suppose a member of a species developed a functional advantage (it grew wings and learned to fly), its offspring would inherit that advantage and pass it on to their offspring. ."- Probably this is why the new generation kids have an innate knowledge of how to operate computers and mobile phones!

June 3, 2013 · 

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep"

And into that unknown as I leap,
It might be lovelier, is what I hope!

April 8, 2013 · 

Each stray dog is a wasted bundle of unconditional love and loyalty.

May 18, 2011 · 

This one is from The Reader’s Digest-

Top of Form

Jack wakes up with a horrible hangover and a throbbing black eye. The first thing he sees is a single rose on the side table and a note from his wife: “Dear, breakfast is made. I’ve gone shopping to make you your favorite dinner tonight. I love you!”

He stumbles to the kitchen and, sure enough, there’s breakfast. “Joe,” he says to his son, “what happened last night?”

“You came home soused and got that black eye tripping over a chair.”

“So, why the rose, breakfast, and sweet note from your mother?”

“Oh, that. Mom dragged you to the bedroom, and when she tried to take off your clothes, you screamed, ‘Leave me alone, I’m married!”

May 1, 2011 · 

Excited little Magpies singing at my window sill. Reminding me that every sorrow, every disappointment is worth another day of waking up to this beautiful song of Nature..

April 25, 2011 · 

Nibbling at a delicious, cool watermelon in the scorching heat,pleasant evenings at the end of a hot summer day,staring at a starlit sky sitting on the terrace enjoying the cool breeze,jasmine fragrance at every street corner- a few of the many things I'll miss about Chennai when I leave.

March 9, 2011 · 

Will Googlearth develop to include Marauder's Map? Wow, that'll be fun!!!

December 3, 2010 · 

"I don't think any of us can speak frankly about pain until we are no longer enduring it"- from 'Memoirs of a Geisha'

October 30, 2010 · 

PC monitor has become my notebook and my canvas..Optical mouse has become my pencil, pen and paintbrush..Pathetic!

October 14, 2010 · 

Some things are so expected that they come as a surprise! Some things are so unexpected that when they come you almost know they are coming!Bottom of Form

A SMILE CAN BRING YOU NEAR, TO ME

I looked in the mirror and said, "These tiny spots on my face look so ugly!".
My husband: "Let's have you do plastic surgery.."
I don't like that one bit, but then suddenly I remember the advice from "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus", -'Men need to be told everything on their face to understand.'
So I say, "When your wife says the marks on her face look ugly,you should say 'no my dear,they look very pretty on your face'"..
Pause.
"Oh,OK, " he says.
After a while he shows the kids the Bollywood item song 'Chikni Chameli' on his mobile phone. But they are more interested in looking at me combing my hair. So I say, "in my kids'eyes I look prettier than Katrina Kaif ! "
My husband looks shocked for a moment, ponders another, then says,"not just in the kids' eyes, in their dad's eyes,too.."
Pause. I say- "Now you are learning".

HARE AND TORTOISE

As posted on Facebook on December 7, 2014

Hare was very fast. He wasn't smart, but fast. He kept winning races, and everybody expected him to win always, and go places. The pressure was enormous. Then he met the tortoise, and the clash of egos ended up in a race. Hare ran fast, as usual, knew he had to win, but the pressure and stress finally got to him. He fainted, then slept. When he woke up the world had changed. Those who admired him a few hours back now ridiculed him, they laughed at him. They even made proverbs about how slow and steady wins. Hare was crestfallen at first, then it hit him. He had his chance of escape. He knew if he challenged tortoise once more, he could easily win, and everything would be the same as before. But then he would be stressed again. He didn't want that. He wanted time for doing things he loved, not just winning races. He wanted to explore that Carrot country they said existed, he wanted to meet that long lost cousin of his who fled his forest, he wanted to learn to sing like the magpies, he wanted to write poetry, read books, listen to music, daydream, paint...

So he got up, walked like a beaten spirit, a failed champion, a miserable idiot. The world laughed, it was fine with him. He slowly made his way out of the racing track, moved out of sight, then he laughed out loud, and sprinted..sprinted with joy, for the first time, without the pressure of winning, just for the sheer pleasure of running like mad...