Rock-O-Holic

We woke up to a winter morning,
It’s cold and dark outside, raining,
Put on your jogging shoes
And switch on the radio,
‘Cause they are playing Rock-o-holica …!!!

Songs humming right from our hearts,
Beats’re getting louder than the start,
Rev up your pulses no matter what,
We are gonna top the charts!
‘Cause we play the tonic for your hearts.

Rock (and roll) is on the menu,
Another gig on a new venue.
You may think we are just another band,
But the day could all be ours in hand,
As we make you scream(swing) to the rhythm of Rock!!!

Ah… Another song written and inspired by the movie “School of Rock” after watching it for the nth time. Written also for my friend’s band. Hope they sing this sometime.

Monsoon Rain and Thirsty Earth

6 Drops of rain kissed the longing earth,
Sweet smells rose from the mate’s soft breath,
Fragrance it filled the air millions worth,
When frogs sang their anthem in mirth.

The bride draped in misty clouds,
Walked the aisle amidst the crowds.
Fireworks lit up the sky, bright and loud,
When knots were tied with her head bowed.

Horn-bills greeted the newly weds with hoots,
Bamboo shoots whistled like dreamy flutes.
Peacocks danced their thousand eyes en-route,
Under the arched rainbows to the green honeymoon suite.

Drip, Drip, Drip,
More rains seeped the soil strip.
The land can take no more a bit;
Her body drowned in a deep pit.

Torn is her role between the mother and mate,
Tied to a perplexed fate.
To break the knots of a nuptial conjugate
Or to put her children at stake?

The wandering wind ferried the rain away,
When peeped on the land a golden ray.
Once more a bride she became
When her hands held the golden bouquet!

The Man with the Curves

I demand an explanation – How can you people link my eating habits to my body weight and structure so irrationally? Do you think that thin people eat less and fat men are all gluttons? It has simply become too much for a generally cheerful “healthy” looking plump person like me to bear. All I am trying to say is that, my food intake has nothing to do with my size. I eat like a bird but I do end up looking like Garfield, the cat with its belly rubbing the road! But, certainly, my food doesn’t deserve the blame it gets. Genetics and nothing else could be the reason.

The other day, I was dining with my friends at our usual South Indian Pure Vegetarian Restaurant – Akshaya’s when an acquaintance popped in and started cautioning me even before the food arrived, “Dei, paathu saapudu da. Innam Gundaayiduvae !” which meant, don’t overeat! You will get fatter. 
“Asshole” I breathed. Outwardly, I just smiled and let the comment fade away in to the rickety- rackety noises inside the eatery. To get into a fight while having food is something I hate. You might as well think he would have stopped with that one comment. Unfortunately not! When my food arrived, he remarked ruthlessly. ”Randu Idli, avala thaana, thaanguma thalaivaa?” You people tell me. What should have I done?
I asked him to wait for a few minutes until I devoured my two idlis and coconut chutney. Later, I took him to the corner of the room and gave him an “earful” so that he would never dare to ask that to another innocent soul.

You might think fat people are funny but I am not. This is not just a one off incident. A few months back I was at a party when a friend (read girl) shouted, “Hey, you beer body!” before she sat down cuddling with a lolly-pop shaped boy. Do they realize we are mellow inside! Here again, it was assumed my size was just because I drank like a fish. Good that most beer bodies have soft-hearts else offenders like her would have been trampled to death. I made a mental note to remove that itchy female from my friends’ list on Facebook.
A few months back, I was attending a family function, where I got humiliated twice. The first one, the usual kind, happened when a determined aunt decided to fill my plate with generous servings of sweets, oraayiram food items and pappadams with infectious affection. I prayed to almighty that she did not have a marriage-ready girl to be introduced to later in the day.

I protested. “I can’t eat this much, mami” No, she was not my mom’s sister-in-law. “Mami” is just every woman whom you meet in a typical Iyer family and you do not know where to place her in the family tree.
“Dei, Chumma kadhayadikaathae. Enikku theriyada?? Unna kandu thaan evalo items order panneerkkom” pointing straight at my innocent body. Everyone laughed at my expense. Well, that might have eased the blood pressure of a few oldies around, but not mine. My eyes scanned the room filled with umbrella-stomached (pot-bellied) mamas, ammi-kal (wet grinder) shaped mamis and their surprisingly mal-nourished dozen odd kids laughing while sipping pal-ada pradhaman with pappadom.
As usual, my mom whispered, “Dei, eat only what you want. Leave the rest.” subtly telling me to stop eating soon. Majority of the food remained untouched. 

On the second day of the function, I had to undergo mortification of a different kind. That day, for some reason, I was feeling hungry and the menu too was to my liking. A distant relative – a mami, different from the earlier one, was serving the food. To my left sat the depressingly thin boy, ironically named – “Ganapathy”. His presence accentuated my “curves” which of course caused a few unwelcome stares at my belly, esp. from the giggling girls of Ramaiyer Madom.

As she started serving payasam to the boy, she passionately announced, ”Enna Lakshmi, kuzhanthae romba chadachittaan. Onnum saapadarathillaya?” enquiring her mother about the boy’s poor health. She gave him an extra serving of all the items on the menu. Hardly did she know that Ganapathy was infamous for his excessive eating habits and he had already gobbled up three times the food that I was going to have that day. Indeed, appearances are deceptive!
Approaching my plate, she took one hard look at me, served half the normal serving, disrespecting my appetite and moved on to the next plate. She even frowned when I asked for a second glass of payasam, meanwhile my contrasting neighbor Ganapathy had already emptied four glasses of it without breaking a sweat.

I can’t take it anymore! Is there a court where I can sue these people? Is there a law that can protect hapless people like me? Can I alter my genes? All because I am just a few kilos more than my accepted weight limit! I condemn yet envy those genetically lean people who despite being the greedygutses they are, get away with their crime unsuspected. 

I can’t change the attitude of this brutal world. So these days, I am practicing a complex Yoga that trains you to shut your ears while opening the mouth. I believe this will help me in selectively hearing the comments while having food!!!

“Shit, I stepped on shit!!!”

I have nothing against the dog-kind. But, what have they got against me? I have been an animal lover all my life. I like animals in the wild and in the zoo, take pictures of wild animals, spend much time and energy watching National Geographic and Animal Planet etc.. I have neither pelted stones at a stray dog nor fed any. A peace-loving soul that I am, I would expect dogs to behave in the same way – A little matured and cultured. However, the dogs have decided to make my life hell. I would be rushing to office when that undesirable event happens. My otherwise perfect day will be spoiled by the act of stepping on the dark pile of royal poo on the road. I shout, “Shit.” My shoes are now soiled with hardly any time left to go back home and clean it. So, I use leaves, litter, the edges of footpaths, garbage and what not to clean my footwear. Passers-by look at me and mock at the apparently good-looking, well-dressed man behaving in a queer way. Let me be frank with you, I am furious and at the same time disappointed with man’s loyal being. Don’t get me wrong. I am not here to blame game.. I am told that I have more senses than those so-called innocent animals. I agree, I ought to be more careful next time around!

Dogs have been with us for some billion years now. They should have at least made an effort to learn the basic toilet etiquettes from their masters. Besides, it is master’s responsibility to train their dogs to shit in their loo, preferably inside the confines of their homes. How selfish can the dog owners be! They want to keep two-three dogs, train them to guard their homes but when it comes to toilet mannerisms, they teach them to use roads, trees, parks, parked vehicles, standing men etc. I thought, it is the Indian villages where I need to be careful while walking on the roads or taking a small alley by the main road. The condition of the roads and parks in my city tell a different story!

The other day, my neighbor Kumar who owns two dogs, a Labrador and a Rottweiler, was out walking his plump dogs. Those canines were sniffing the entire area out perhaps searching for their territory markings. After half an hour of futile effort, the Rottweiler approached our house’s main gate and stopped. There was a satisfactory look on its face and a devilish smile perhaps. Then smack in the middle it peed and pooed. “Holy shit”, I cried and tried to shoo them away but without any success. Imagine, waking up everyday morning, opening your gate to a mound of dog shit. Nightmare. This became a daily affair. One fine day, I threatened Kumar that I would kill his dogs if he let any of them near my house. I swear my intention was just to scare him off. It was just out of sheer frustration than anger. The next day, one of the dogs died. To this day, Kumar believes the dog’s death was because of me. I tried convincing him, “Kumar, it is the poo.” Still so many Kumars and their loyal dogs make my walk to the park a tricky affair. One misstep and you are doomed.

The stray and the pet ones make sure that the road outside my house is a minefield of shit piles. I am powerless to change this script unless I am nominated to the cabinet as the human welfare minister. My first action item would be to build toilets for dogs and impose hefty fines for the owners if their dogs defecate anywhere outside the four walls of their homes!

Until then, I will have to imagine myself as a brave soldier or as a video game player jumping from one maze to another carefully avoiding the booby traps and clearing the levels to reach the destination!

Very Short Stories – Part 2

Fallen Flowers

Everyday evening, Meera would get off 278E, the bus from Shivaji Nagar and would religiously buy flowers from the flower vendor sitting outside the temple. The florist woman would measure the artfully strung flowers placing the free end to the tip of the middle finger measuring it up to the elbow joint – ”Oru Muzham – Patthu Roopa!’’ After buying the flowers, she would quietly take the road next to the Krishna temple. One day, the curious woman asked, “Amma, whom are you buying these flowers for?” Her eyes were moist with tears as she bravely replied, “For my husband. He died in the valley of flowers fighting for the country”. Meera’s answer lingered in the air for her Krishna to respond…

Diwali

To see unfeigned happiness is a rarity. On that Diwali day, I was lucky enough to witness unadulterated joy. Crackers were going off in all directions, diyas lined the walls of houses and the balconies, joy filled the bright faces. I was bursting crackers and that was when, “Anna, anna oru pattaas kudukkaraengala?” (Brother, would you give me a Cracker?), a feeble but excited voice asked. Turning around, I saw a shabby looking kid probably from the nearby slums. Before even he could have completed the sentence, my mouth had uttered an unpleasant “No”. It took me just a few seconds to realize my mistake but by then the kid had disappeared into the festive crowd. Later in the night, I saw him digging into the cracker rubbish. He was collecting crackers that had failed to fire. With remorse, I approached him and tried to make it up for my inglorious act of the evening. I gifted him a small box full of sparklers and crackers. I also gave him a few unused T-Shirts of my nephew hoping that they would fit his frail frame. He quietly collected the packet and ran away without expressing any visible signs of gratitude. Five minutes later, I saw his cheerful eyes lit up with joy as he held the color sparklers wearing one of the T-shirts that I had gifted, which drooped halfway down his forearms! Happy Diwali, I told myself.

Naranga Mittayi

Stopping his car at the Pettikada the Man asked, “Naranga muttai undo? Randu Roopaikku!” (The cheapest sweet that one can get in the villages and pettikada is the small shop by the roadside esp. in villages). The Man looked at the glass jar filled with colorful sweets. Shopkeeper looked quizzically at the man and took a handful, wrapped it in a newspaper and handed the pack to the Man. As the windows of his BMW rolled up, he popped one mittai into his mouth and closed his eyes slipping into a trance. There, he became “Anthonikutty” wearing “Valli” trouser and wheeling a punctured cycle tyre through the mud roads.

Lost and Found

“Enji mittai, Enji mittaai”, “Choodulla vartha Choodulla vartha Mullaperiyar Anakettilil Villal, Vyapari Vyavasayi sammelanithil sangattenum 5 paerku parikku”. Varghese double checked the zip of his bag. The private bus to Pariyaram was about to start. 15 minutes of incident free journey to Pariyaram from Chalakudy, he prayed. He heard a whistle and the engine came to life… **** “Pariyaram…” He woke up startled. The bag was gone. His heart skipped a few beats and he felt short of breath. He had two lakhs of cash in that bag taken as loan for his daughter’s marriage. “Chetta… Here, your bag. You had slept off and the bag had fallen off.” He did not know how to thank that man. He just said, “Thanks…”

Unanswered Questions

“Heeeyya.. Heeyya…” Ramu hid behind his dad’s Mundu tightly gripping his hands. It was his first week in India. The Oracle clad in a red cloth and a waist-let of jingling bells (aramani) paced in frenzy in and out of the temple courtyard. He carried a sword in his right hand and an anklet in his left. His family and other devotees stood in a circle. In the red oil lamps of the Bhagavathi temple, the Oracle resembled a mad man, jumping and dancing hysterically to the sounds of drum and illathalam. Then all of a sudden, he hit his head with the sword and blood oozed out of his head. Ramu’s grip on his dad’s fingers tightened. Then the drumbeats eased and his pace slowed. He approached Ramu’s grandmother and murmured something in her ears.

On their way back home, munching the tasty Prasadam, Ramu inquired his dad, “Acha, who was that? That was pretty frightening!!!” “Kuttaa, athaanu Velichappadu. Bhagavathi, through him answers all the questions we have in our minds. Once he gets possessed he speaks god’s voice”, his Dad explained to a wide-eyed Ramu.

“Really? I had one question in my mind. But, he didn’t answer that!” Ramu was sad as he said that. “What’s that?” asked his dad. “Where did Mom go?” Ramu looked at his dad’s gloomy face and his head drooped. Behind, in the rufescent lights of the flickering oil lamps, the exhausted oracle was stripping his makeup off.

Kashmir – The Price Of Freedom

I closed my eyes to this violence,
And I woke up to a valley of silence.
Sun chose to hide behind the clouds now,
And the gunshots echoed in different tones.

My footsteps trod all alone,
Where the sorrows moan the curse with which I was born.
There the blood drops pricked the snow,
And the empty roads slept on a bed of stones.

Once moist eyes have drained those tears,
I have cried in your arms for so many years.
Poison bit my thoughts slow,
For a land that no one owns!

Did I hear my kids laugh?
Or are our minds all lost?
No more can this hate grow,
We are not just skins and bones.

Cut me free from the bleeding chains,
Let these wings of peace flap and fly again.
Baptize me in freedom now,
Once more on this heaven on earth.

~Trilok~

Written only with Good intentions. Please do not distort the meaning!

This poem came out of the heartfelt feelings for the common man caught in the line of fire during the recent turbulent situations in the valley. This is also in support of the government’s intentions to bring peace back to the lovely valley.