Why Write?

A Request

Come back with the summer rain,
Come back to me, in the summer rain.
With your hair wet and eyes tender,
Come home to me in the summer rain.

In the rain, stand near to me, 
As the earth dances with the sky, 
In the rain, come back, my love, 
As the fond touch of raindrops.

Home is the best!

Pieta

Words

In 1997, Arundhati Roy won the Booker for her debut novel The God of Small Things. Little did she knew then that her proud face could trigger the desire of becoming a writer in a little girl whose only qualification to be so was the bad habit of reading every book that was not in the school curriculum and scribbling what can or cannot be called poetry.

Now two more Indians have won the Booker and what the writer has in hand is only a heap of loose sheets of paper, a few scrapbooks and this blog, which contains certain excerpts from the diary notes. I write for a muse, who visits me once in a while, upsetting my balance and sending me hurling back into loneliness, to restructure and resurrect again as a balanced person, teaching me to live life to the fullest through writing out an unfulfilled and unlived life, a mystery, a strange series of happenings having neither head nor tail and giving a sense of balance to a heart striving for love and a head that loves logic and reasoning; for the dead and the living writers, who have inspired me with the fire of their words though I may not reach their level, let my words touch their foot with respect and love, for their words have stirred and lived as passion, delight and life in my blood, in my imagination and in every word I write; for myself, to remember and certain moments of tranquil silence, when the perfect little sacred space known as the soul is a treasure-house that pours out amazing words that I love to read again and again and share with you!

The White Magnolias

The sweet scent of those blooming magnolias was growing stronger and stronger every moment. I was sitting on a stone bench with my face buried in my hands crying, broken hearted and sad. I was choked with tears watching his anger and indifference. I was going to apologise to him. But as I turned my head I heard a bell ringing continuously and on opening my eyes, instead of seeing that familiar park strewn with all sorts of fresh and dry leaves and the patches of multi-hued flowers interrupted by stone benches, what I saw was the outline of my own room. I realized that it was only a dream and to my utter disappointment it was cut short by the alarm clock ringing.

It was a recurring dream, a memory of that place. That serene park of my young days where I spent long hours in the company of my favourite poets, now haunted me throughout my sleep and my waking moments. Those tall shady trees, lichen covered walls and cool canopies kept coming back to my mind, bringing back with them memories of those happy days in harmony with nature and humanity, when a spectre, a mirage of love flashed before my sight and disappeared without a trace leaving me enticed for life.
The dream was strange because she never wanted her life to be like that.

The day I saw the white magnolias for the first time will remain etched in my memory because it was the same day I met him. As always I was engrossed in a book of poems when a passing breeze carried with it a pale ivory white blossom and placed it on the book I was reading. I held the flower closely in my hands to observe it more clearly. I saw it was soft and ivory-hued with a yellow tint on the inside.

As I smelt it a voice beside me told that the name of the flower was white magnolia. I looked up and saw that the owner of the voice to be a person whom I had met several times during my walks and who always passed me by with a friendly smile or a quiet nod. He further informed me that these flowers called chempaka in the native tongue bloomed only in the evenings. Then the surrounding air will be infused with a heavenly fragrance,, the blossom seemed to be the first to fall this season. Thus magnolias inaugurated a friendship that was to spread roots in the depths of my being forever.

Our meetings became frequent and lively with the talk of flowers and books. I found out in the meantime that he was a storehouse of knowledge of various sorts ranging from my favourite poets to philosophy and theology. A precious bond of friendship was being formed between us,. It became a source of delight and inspiration for both of us. Until the days of an irreparable rift threatened the very existence of our goodwill. A quarrel followed that once again left me alone in my favourite place reading books and lamenting the loss of a relationship which would have lasted a lifetime had I been less proud and more careful.

Years went by. We deliberately avoided each other’s society. During this time my life changed. I became just like an aimless yacht, wild and reckless, desperate and in need of a destination and thrown off the path by every galloping gust of wind. He was like an unhealed wound in my heart that bled me to death on every careless touch. But I could not forget the cherished dreams he had given me. ..the wings of hope for an unfulfilled desire of the heart- the urge for a life of bliss together with him! But these dreams were all in vain.

One day my soul pulled me towards this place with a strong force. Thus led by an inner voice, by some unknown instinct I went back to that familiar spot after years of absence, I found to my surprise that nothing had changed much. The chempaka tree by the fountain was in full bloom and there was the faint smell of fresh flowers hovering in the air. I sat there on the stone bench which I had once called mine. I closed my eyes and instantly my mind embarked on the wings of a dream, which an intimate bond of affection had gifted my heart years ago.

A gentle breeze started blowing, rustling the tree branches and scattering the dry fallen leaves everywhere. In the midst of this clamor, I heard a soft footstep on the ground and looking up I saw a familiar face gazing at me tenderly> so nothing has changed much, has it?

All these years I thought of meeting him with an indifferent manner and a courteous smile, But on seeing him hat happened to my earlier decisions. I ran towards him and buried my face on his chest. He put his arms around me and rocked me gently. There was a tranquil silence enveloping the park. Then a gentle breeze blew showering some magnolias on us. The sweet scent of those blooming magnolias was growing stranger and stronger every moment.

Masks

You and me have worn many masks with each other. Any other woman would leap and violently tear that mask of silence off your face. But I watch in silence, everyday, how far will you carry the game. You will only smile and say the same words of courtesy. But when your silence is broken by hoarse laughter that sounds so hollow, all my anger disappears and I find you the same as ever, childish and ever trying to hide your insecurity in being aloof and in being funny. After finding out how you feel, I see that I try to do the same with you.

Waiting at Twilight

What is love? Many answers, at the same time. 
As the twilight meets the dark and the light, 
Just as one rainy afternoon you bid farewell,
Talking of matters I did not understand.

Why did it have to rain on days we met and parted?
Why did a walk in the rain bring such love?
And a concealed set of desperate symptoms,
Which I'd never known was of true love.

Now another mirage, another dream choked by logic,
Gives me vision to see clearly what I have lost. 
"My love" on the afternoon you left, my heart whispered, 
Though my voice choked it with a farewell,

I still remember how tears had fallen, 
How sobs had broken for words that didnt come,
Twilight has come again and I meet you everyday,
In every face, in every word, everywhere.

Foolish heart scared of what it didnt know, 
Killed love so mercilessly without letting it live.
Nothing, nothing but you in my heart, 
Today I witness twilight and my own life.

Dreamers Beware

He moved his face close to hers and she closed her eyes. They were sitting on a stone-bench in the park. He was sitting close to her with his arms round her. She was scared of other people staring at them but she found that no one was noticing them. As he said people came there for the silence the park gave them.

It was their first meeting after months. He had turned up all on a sudden and told her: “I need to talk to you”. She screamed in delight on seeing him. She pinched him to check if he was real. He was the one who suggested the park. They walked together towards the place. He put his arm around her shoulders and chatted with her.

They chose a very quiet nook in the park. The place was really beautiful. She felt she was imagining this meeting with him. She sat near him feeling his presence. Her entire body was warm under his touch and her heart was not beating but galloping. Then he began describing the adventures he had during all these months. His left arm was around her waist and he held her hand in his right hand.

She smiled at him and they looked into each other eyes for a long time. Then he moved his face close to hers. She felt that the moment had arrived after such a long time. Their first kiss. She closed her eyes. She could feel his face near hers.

Then she heard a sound. What was that sound, she wondered? It was a ringing sound. Oh! It was her alarm clock ringing to tell her that it was 6 0’clock. She got up and said “@!#$%*.

Then again she went to bed praying for a sequel of the same dream… Oh Lord, please! No way. Sleep had deserted her. She got up and looked in the mirror. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Yet strangely she felt happy because the feel of his strong arms around her was still there. So was the smell of his perfume. She smiled and wished him a good day!

Lucky Bamboo

Sublimation

The master of all absurdities wrote,
None comes, none goes, nothing happens,
Truer of this slow-moving life,
Than of anything else heard or seen.

The hourglass looks still apparently,
Though time moves in steady moves,
And will erase, rewrite, edit whatever was
Written with much pleasure and much pain.

Now the time has come to smile and part,
A farewell that tastes of victory and tears,
Victory that never came when dying of thirst,
A stream of delight for the tired warrior.

For there is no going back in any form,
The absurd heart knows too well,
That some solids shed no tears
Those who only sublimate.

Playing in the Rain

I want to play in the rain
Till my soul is wet with love.
I want to play in the rain
Till I hold your soul in my hands.
Through the same life spirit
That binds all beings
That brings us close
I touch your hand
And you touch mine
In silence.

Enjoyment

out beyond

Out beyond

be yourself

faith

Manual of the Warrior of Light by Paulo Coelho

Do you look at life and the universe with the wonder of a child? Do you accept failure with equanimity? Do you believe in fighting for your dreams? These are some of the questions raised by Paulo Coelho’s Manual of the Warrior of Light. This gem from one of the greatest storytellers of our time is a collection of philosophical meditations spun around the image of a warrior of light .

 The Manual was published in the newspapers as ‘Maktub’without the Prologue and the Epilogue, which connects the random meditations by providing a structure. They deal with the story of a village-boy who meets a mysterious woman at the beach who talks to him about the bells ringing from a temple beneath the sea. Years later, the same mysterious woman asks him to write about the Warrior of Light.

What is a Warrior of Light? The boy asks the woman. The woman replies that a Warrior of Light is one who understands the miracle of life, one who fights for his dreams and one who follows his dreams to reach his destiny. The boy is asked to write down the life lessons of the Warrior of Light.

The mediations deal with the life and nature of a Warrior of Light. All his mental, spiritual, social and emotional battles, his victories and defeats, his relationships with God, his companions, followers and enemies, his strategies in war are all described. At times the life lessons seem contradictory. This is because a Warrior of Light understands that everything around him is subject to change and he is competent enough to adapt strategy to situation. He is open-minded and receptive to the paradoxes of life.
Paulo Coelho’s Manual of the Warrior of Light is a quest for discovering the Warrior of Light within us.

For a sapling

Thappad

A True Gift in Green

To know the mind of woman, he has to know first, the mind of the land.

Sarah Joseph is one of the celebrated women novelists of Malayalam literature and she has he has received numerous awards and honours such as Kendra Sahitya Academy Award, Kerala Sahitya Academy Award, Vayalar Award, Cherukad Award and O.V. Vijayan Sahitya Puraskaram. Her Malayalam novel Aathi was published simultaneously with its English translation Gift in Green by Valson Thampu in 2011. In her interview with Valson Thampu, Joseph speaks about how she modelled the land of Aathi on a island Valanthakkadu in Ernakulam district of Kerala. She was amazed by the lives of the people who subsisted in fishing, picking mussels and farming Pokkali rice. They earned as much as Rs. 300 a day picking mussels but never fished for more than that as they count on the fish and mussels as their fixed deposits. The author praises the subsistence perspective of the people of Valanthakkadu by basing a novel on their simple life.

The land of Aathi is pristine covered with water on all sides. The people lived the water-life, drawing sustenance from the water and the fields. Their water-life meant that their daily immediate needs were met from earth and water as they could collect enough food to feed the whole family just by working till noon everyday. The mangroves that surrounded the land of Aathi contained plenty of fish, which the people used to catch with their bare hands. During high tide, these fish and prawns were carried across to the rice fields, from where the people caught them. They also knew the secret of growing rice in salty waters. In Aathi, people from the ancient times lived the water-life, harvesting only what they need from nature.

The destruction of the pristine, land, water and its people starts with the advent of Kumaran, a business tycoon who sees in Aathi, the means of making money. With his coming, the modes of living such as the water-life and farming are replaced by construction of buildings resulting in pollution, creation of toxic waste and destruction of natural habitat. The novel also shows the environmentalist concerns of the writer as she describes the present-day issues of Kerala such as water contamination, lack of proper waste disposal systems, dumping of biomedical waste in rivers and waterbodies, the use of endosulfan to ensure profit in farming, the problems of landfilling, destruction of marshes disposal of plastic and biomedical waste and so on. However, nature cannot be exploited and contaminated forever and the waters of Aathi rise in a flood and purify the whole land.

gratitude

Strangers Again

When you speak not,

And my ears hear not, 

Who is it to blame, 

You or I or us together

For the weighed words?

I wonder what story it was

We both wrote together,

Amidst dreamy eras 

And slow-moving time,

Your being there for me.

From two ends and spaces,

Two identities met as if

We fell into each other

By peels lying on the road, 

Looked like an accident.

Days wander and flow

Nights silent and slow,

Together we built towers,

That threaten heaven,

And touched the skies.

Then in one careless word,

The fury of heaven breaks,

Like the tower of Bablyon,

Our  virtual world crumbles,

Into understood niceties.

Will you remember how we began?

The tongues we spoke together,

Drawn by puzzles and threads,

Scattered through words on edge,

We stand, like strangers again.

a cup of coffee

Quote of the day

love

blessings

birdsong

Happy Vishu

Attitude

Happy Easter♥️

Less is more

Capsula Mundi

When I breathe my last, cry no tears for me

Cremate me and scatter me in River Green;

Save me from those crowded churchyards

Where you can hardly stand and pray for me.

If by that time, there are burial pods here,

I’d love to come back as a white magnolia

Like the one near the verdant campus gate,

Whose flowers we picked and smelt daily.

Give away my stacks of favourite books,

The majority of unread ones, if any good,

Discard all my unfinished writing attempts

You can read no sense when hardly I can.

When your time comes join me as a favourite,

To leave a green forest tribe named after us. 

healing

A growing hunger

faith

Twilight

Serendipity

There are times when one is amazed by the kind of coincidences that happen in life like when you think of a friend and she calls you on the phone exactly at that same moment. Sometimes, you crave for a book or an item of food or a object and it appears right before you. This phenomenon is called serendipity.

I have been an avid fan of the concept of serendipity considering the fact that I have been amazed by my good fortune in getting some of my desires granted. The word means a pleasant surprise or a very fortunate occurrence. It is said that Horace Walpole coined in this word in a letter to his friend in 1754, where he makes a reference to a Persian fairy tale The Three Princes of Serendip, in which three princes main were always learning by accidental discoveries of things. 

Another favourite quote on serendipity has been from Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist: “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it. In the novel, Coelho expands on the concept of the Soul of the World, which is supposed to bind all beings together. I guess that’s how Santiago creates the wind and saves himself and the Alchemist from death. 

However, the best description of this process comes from the nineteenth century American philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson in his essay “The Oversoul”:

The things that are really for thee gravitate to thee. You are running to seek your friend. Let your feet run, but your mind need not. If you do not find him, will you not acquiesce that it is best you should not find him? for there is a power, which, as it is in you, is in him also, and could therefore very well bring you together, if it were for the best… Every proverb, every book, every byword that belongs to thee for aid or comfort, shall surely come home through open or winding passages. Every friend whom not thy fantastic will but the great and tender heart in thee craveth, shall lock thee in his embrace. And this because the heart in thee is the heart of all; not a valve, not a wall, not an intersection is there anywhere in nature, but one blood rolls uninterruptedly an endless circulation through all men, as the water of the globe is all one sea, and, truly seen, its tide is one.”

However, if you ask me whether I live only by this philosophy or whether it is possible to get anything specific with this philosophy, I can only answer in small print like advertisers do : Conditions Apply!

different

Othappu

The Novel Othappu by the celebrated Malayalam feminist writer Sara Joseph has a strong woman character Margalita. Set against the life of Christian Thrissur, the novel depicts how Margalita, a nun hailing from one of the ancient Syrian Christian families flouts all traditions to fall in love with a Christian priest Roy Francis Kareekan. Their love is made intense by the vows of chastity that both of them have to keep and they throw away everything just to be together. But is breaking all rules to be with the beloved worth the trouble? Which is more important listening to your heart's voice or listening to the world? These are some of the questions posed by the novel.

Instead of creating a melodrama out of a delicate subject of love between a nun and a priest, Sara Joseph has delicately handled it but at the same time creating a very strong woman character before whom every other character pales in comparison. She is like a rock in times of trouble and creates her own identity in a society that has divested of all her previous roles- daughter, sister, believer and nun. For her, "love is joy; the joy of love is God; and when you can keep the joy of love in your heart, the whole world will be at peace and the earth will blossom" as she lives a life of sacrifice with Nanu, an orphan child and her unborn baby in her womb.

The English translation of the novel by Rev. Dr. Valson Thampu and published by OUP is also available as Othappu: The Scent of the Other Side 

Summer Love

When we meet again, this summer, after a long while;

We sit once again in our favourite spot near the fountain,

On the pink carpet of blossoms, we make our seat to chat

The serious thoughts about life, the trivial about the world. 

Again the words couple goals make sense to us both,

Who have been lone wanderers in this weary universe,

To dream of the world of delights that we can travel,

To sip from the wine of togetherness till death parts us. 

May be we could dream of watching the nightskies now,

To spend time reading books or chatting for long hours,

May be one might spend time roaming new destinations 

Treading the surprises that this Earth has to offer us. 

We celebrate this second bout of love in this midlife,

To weave dreams around a bond of growing understanding.

definitions

Copernicus

He proved that the earth was not the centre
Of this mighty sprawling universe.

Sorry my dear to break your illusions
You are not the centre of this world either.

Journey

Thick like ladies' fingers
I had teased them once
As I held them in mine.

On this long tedious path
I saw you tap your fingers
To the song I was humming.

Through the tedious heat
Though you didn't turn
To look at me even once.

Yet I saw you tap your fingers
To the song that I was humming
All day and night long.

Of the days spent in singing
With eyes that shine bright
With hope that rises again.

After the summer tedium,
After the dreary monsoon
Just in time, for you and me.

Your fingers draw the story
They weave a dream in words
Music, coffee, words and us.

Gershom

I'm a stranger in a strange faraway land,
His heart whispered to him night and day,
While his thoughts are full of a lovely face
That made him forgot all his troubles.

One that filled his solitude with quiet music
One that made him turn time by a few years
The longing for her sweet musical chitchats
Or the craving to bring back her last embrace.

All the while, his friends speak of their plans
He listens eagerly but wants to dream of her
Dream of the day when clad in bright red
And bedecked in jewels, she''ll be his bride.

She is the home he returns to time and again,
The dream that he looks forward every day
Even though his heart whispers to him daily
I'm a stranger in a strange faraway land.

self

The Maddadam Trilogy

Margaret Atwood’s The Maddaddam trilogy that consists of the simultanuels Oryx and Crake (2003), The Year of the Flood and Maddaddam (2013) explore an extremely common device in popular science fiction- an apocalypse triggered by biotechnological and chemical experiments that destroys the rhythm of nature and produces unforeseen disasters and epidemics such as the Waterless Flood. These novels are called simultanuels (as opposed to sequels) as they co-exist and enhance our understanding of the state of life before and after the apocalypse through the eyes of the narrators Snowman, Ren and Toby.

The strides made in biotechnology such as genesplicing help scientists create new species such as wolvogs, liobams and pigeons with human brain tissue added for intelligence. But the product that starts the epidemic known as the Waterless Flood is an over-the-counter medicine known as BlyssPlus Pills, supposed to provide increased sexual satisfaction, protection from sexually transmitted diseases and to prolong youth. Hidden in the BlyssPlus Pills, is a killer virus that will spread like the plague and wipe out entire continents altogether.

When the attacks begin, radio and television stations from across the world report news of the spreading pandemic. But gradually the stations go dead and cities cease to exist. Gradually, a handful of people survive along with the bioengineered Crakers, who are a gentle humanoid species whose skins have natural insect repellants and whose need for animal protein is minimum. Among the survivors are Toby, Ren, Amands, Zeb, Jimmy and other Maddaddamites who are a group of bioterrorists who were bought by Crake in exchange for the protection of their identities.

The narrator of -awaited conclusion to the Maddaddam trilogy is Toby, who belonged to a green cult called God’s Gardeners. She wonders if there is any future for the human generation:

She’s slipping: she ought to write such things down. Keep a daily journal, as she did when she was alone…for generations yet unborn as politicians used to say when they were fishing for extra votes. If there is anyone in the future that is; and if they’ll be able to read; which, come to think of it are two big ifs (Atwood, 136).

The Crakers and the human survivors together create a new set of babies- Kannon, Rhizomes, Jimadam, Pilaren, Medulla and Oblongata, whose characteristics are yet to develop. But the wonder of all wonders is that Blackbeard, a Craker youth learns how to write and records the history of life after the Waterless Flood and the formation of the new hybrid species from humans and Crakers in the form of history.

Atwood uses the trilogy to express her concerns about the environment, the use of artificially created animal protein, the dangers of biotechnological experimentation, the hidden dangers of medical corporations and the relations between the sexes. She concludes on a note of hope through the creation of hybrid babies who will definitely lead life on earth forward in spite of the Waterless Flood. 

Silence

On that rainy day,
A couple walked past us,
Huddled together.

You and I, we walked
Hurriedly, drenched
In the rain and silent.

Your shy eyes lingered
Now and then on me,
Happy like a child.

With throbbing heart
With hungry eyes
I stowed away your magic.

You never said a word
I never said a word,
Only silence and the rain spoke.

When we spoke at last
It was with indifference
To the magic between us.

So we threw away the words
And the magic between us
What is left now is only silence.

Inferno

Dan Brown’s Inferno (2013) though in the same mould of a thriller as his other novels such as Digital Fortress (1998), Angels and Demons (2000), Deception Point (2001), The Da Vinci Code (2003) and The Lost Symbol (2009),  is concerned with the global ecological crisis and its consequences.

 Usually, his novels revolve around symbols, codes and conspiracy theories. They follow the similar pattern of a hero who finds himself in a strange and unfamiliar setting, with codes, symbols and mysteries to crack and a beautiful woman to rescue. 

Though he writes thematic novels, Inferno stands out from the rest because of its slightly misanthropic stand on human population. In the earlier novels, it was possible to suspend disbelief at the kind of code-cracking that Robert Langdon practiced, this time it becomes a little bit tedious as the mad scientist Zobrist has written down all codes in poetry in the manner of Dante. 

The character of Bertrand Zobrist is a proponent of what is known as the Population Apocalypse Equation which is a mathematical recognition that the earth’s population is rising, people are living longer, and our natural resources are waning. 

He believes that with the increase in numbers, there will be a corresponding increase in human vices as well as predicted by Dante. This equation predicts that the current trend of exponential growth in population will ultimately result in an apocalyptic collapse of society. 

Zobrist held unconventional views on the reduction of population through the spread of epidemics and Black Death. Zobrist praises the role that diseases such as malaria, tuberculosis, HIV-AIDS plays in keeping the population in check. 

He is of the view that the best thing that happened to Europe during the Middle Ages was Black Death. This event was seen as having so many socio-economic advantages as it thinned the human herd and led the way for Renaissance. Though the Black Death destroyed one third of the European population, Zobrist views it as a positive event in history because of its curbing of the human population. 

Bertrand Zobrist in Inferno is no theorist but a genetic engineer who sees a way to put his ideas into practice. He creates a solution to the population problem, a virus named Inferno that is initially suspected to be a plague virus but terms out to be a germ for creating sterility in every third person in the world. He follows the same mathematical equation of one third when trying to create the human sterility virus Inferno. He contrasts himself with the actions of the World Health Organization (WHO) that tries to create awareness about population control and family planning.

Inferno is about the need for environmental conservation and population control.

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