evide manjaadi...?

A few days back (or has it been months??), I happened to go through a link that popped up on Anjali Menon’s wall - sharing one’s childhood memories.  I was surprised and amazed by the response, more importantly the memories each one associated with their own. Surely we are nothing but a bunch of memories!

Now how could I resist writing on this? Childhood is one phase that I have always loved reveling about! Though for today, I will limit myself to just the manjadikkuru episodes in my rather eventful childhood days!

Stalked!!

image courtesy: Hitha

I walk through…

When your butt is literally stuck to a swiveling chair for about 11 hours a day, walking happens to be the most happening of an activity in your otherwise mundane life! This small endeavor that takes me home is filled with interesting subjects worth being observed, worth being heard and worth being felt.

So the race begins from Sree Moolam club junction which is at its busiest, in the evenings. The city chef vehicle which appears only in the dusk is parked in line with all those expensive cars in front- with drivers, without drivers. The aroma of the exquisite cuisine confined to the lit interiors of the van, attract as many nocturnal beings as does the hungry food lovers. I pass the plates of parathas, chappathis, beef fries, chilly chickens stepping up the kerb, stepping down the kerb, to reach the Tagore Theater.  A dark background is symptomatic that the theater is free of any programs/shows. On nights such as these, when only the sodium lamps make visibility a novel idea, you can catch the trees cast shadows long and forlorn. The round and luminous moon peeping from behind the trees has this hypnotic zeal which literally pulls me to him. I love gazing at him, enjoying it as far as I could get with my unusually fast stride, straining against the canopies of trees, against the clouds that would appear all of a sudden!

behind a photograph....

Water water everywhere….

5.30pm. The last byte had been shot and it was time to head back. There was an 8 hour journey ahead of them and everyone was tired. Murugan suggested that they head to the river.  The waters would refresh them. Team yatra set out for Bhavanipuzha!

Anuroop the producer, Varun the cameraman, Kiran the assistant cameraman, Mahesh the driver, Praveen the anchor, all charged into the waters as if they were seeing a river for the first time in their lives. Poor Deepa was left all alone! L Murugan was there, not exactly giving her any company but watching over. Just in case the locals, in their trance like state [thanks to marijuana and spirit that was readily available] bumped into the short tempered Deepa!

The guys had disappeared to the other side of the tree enjoying their new found freedom.

Travel Bytes- Kolkata

‘mile sur mera thumhara….’

The visuals of the metro train, then of a beautiful Bengali woman clad in sari singing ‘amor shur tomar shur….’ developed within me an instant liking for Calcutta. [First thing I learnt from Gargee, my fellow Bengali traveler in train was this particular song].  At times when my belief in the paranormal was on the high, I have even come to think of my previous birth as that of a Bengali! So the Kolkata trip had been in the concept stage for over 15 years or so! I was waiting for the Durga pooja for that’s when Kolkata perks up! But coz shyam chettan , a dear friend was on his way to the north east in August and coz my boss would grant me leave only during the Onam holidays rather than in October, I decided to prepone the expedition!

So can I be called a feminist?

One among many…

I was at the reservation counter of Thampanoor railway station to have my ticket booked for yet another travelling experience. For me, railway stations, markets, malls all serve as venues for people watching. Smart women rarely make their presence felt, so I was kind of intrigued by the chic smart lady behind the counter. I had first noticed her a year back or so. This was the third time. And I waited to see if she behaved the same way as she did on all the previous occasions. No sooner had the counter opened, I heard her angry voice battering the poor guy in front of her. And for the third time, I wished my token number showed up in front of her screen. I wished I could pick up an argument with her. I wished I could use my authority to yell at her for being so rude.

For me, she was an absolute feminist. Women who abused men with their power status!

with love...raavan

And a Brahmin was born…

My interests were many and varied. So it was sheer will that helped me excel in all that I got involved. Whether it was astrology or arts or music, there was no one who paralleled me. I had it all. An intellect that was unmatched. An empire which flourished under my rule. A kingdom where even the poorest drank from golden goblets. A palace which was known far and wide for its immense architecture [thanks to Vishwakarma].

Travel Bytes-GOA

There came this point in my life when I felt that I had to be ALONE. Took the map of India- zeroed in 3 of the places- Ahmedabad, Goa and Mumbai. The card fell for Goa. So there I was with a suitcase bundled with things to last for the next 6 months at the Karmali railway station. My destination- Panaji [pronounced as Paanjim], the capital of Goa.

Around Panjim ….

Most of you might head to Goa with the beaches and parties in mind. But wait, if you want to get a taste of good old Goa, then do get down at Panjim. Unlike most of the capital cities, it is pretty laid back and is best explored on foot. Most of the old houses [with storage quarters downstairs and the living quarters upstairs] have been converted into shops over time. And trust me,  you would never get fed up with the window shopping!! The fashion savvy have reasons to cheer up- there are designer boutiques at every other corner. Most of them are highly priced [targeted at the tourist folk] but if you know the right fabric and designs, then I guess some of them are worth the buy.

and it was a bubble...

And I thought

it was like a bubble

Floating high and high

taking in the essence of

all that was around

Reflecting

all that was around

female infanticide

SHISHUHATYA
Krishna was one of the serials I regularly watched in the 90’s. That’s how I chanced upon Kamsan, the villain. The scene that was to haunt me was the one in which he kills the babies born to his sister Devaki. He would smash the newborns onto a rock. Such scenes were quite horrifying for me to bear, so I would shut my eyes tight and close my ears with my hands.  It made me aware of the barbarous act called  infanticide.. In those days when surfing wasn’t so common, it was newspapers that quenched the thirst for facts. The Hindu ran stories such as on human trafficking, rebirths, naadi jyotsam, sati practice etc. I was glad to find an article on female infanticide. Going through it, I developed a big hatred towards the Punjabis. How could they just kill the female foetus and if not the foetus, the new born babies?

adieu

It was not the first time that they had fought. He had been rude enough to have mocked her sincerity towards the relationship. And she was equally rude to have showered him with abusive words.  She didn’t feel obliged to stay back. He didn’t feel obliged to call her back.

'Raktarakhshas'

I was probably in my 5^th standard, when I first remember having seen a play. It was organized by a Malayalee organization ‘kairali’ as part of their Onam celebrations in Mumbai. My parents, big-time fans of kadhikan Sambasivan could not take me to his ‘kadhaprasangam’, so a play came in like compensation.

Travel bytes

For they say that life is a journey...
Once one of my friends who had visited my orkut profile had casually mentioned that my photo album resembled more like a travel guide. So if I started a blog, the primary purpose, more than anything was to share my travelling experience.

Being a kid

I was just going past through my old photographs, and I saw this little girl staring back at me, a stranger at best, a mischievous one at that and so full of energy. It not only questioned my very existence as myself but also brought within me the urge to write about a period that was buried in the bottom realms of my brain.

marriage of minds! a mockery

My friends were getting married and I could see their faces reflecting a happiness never seen before. But more than sharing their happiness, weddings have turned out to be occasions to show off the family grandeur. Well it is really important on a psychological level to look your best on this BIG day, and make it a pompous affair. But is that marriage is all about? I was also one of those simple gals with dreams of a beautiful marriage in her cards. And if not for Kavya, I wouldn’t be putting across my thoughts on such a topic as a wedding.