Category: A12– Everything under the Sun

  • Ammalu is always right

    ‘Ammalu, why stand there? Come and sit on this bench’

    ‘SP Sir, I’m not Ammalu madam. I’m your new tenant Valsala’

    ‘Where is Ammalu?’

    ‘She has gone out sir’

    ‘It is ok. You can sit on this bench’

    ‘That is not a bench. You are sitting in a chair’

    ‘So, what? You can also sit’

    ‘Thank you Sir. Let me ask Ammalu madam’

    ‘You said she has gone out’

    ‘Now she is back sir’

    ‘Oh, my God! Stand wherever you are Valsala’


     

     

  • Ammalu is always right

    ‘Ammalu, with my world – wide popularity, razor sharp intelligence, admiring acumen to assess the abilities of men and women, all round expertise in all fields, I never appointed an ineligible candidate to my office.
    Wonder how I selected you, as my wife!’

    ‘Answer, simple. You acquired those qualities only after my joining you!’


    ‘Ammalu, your mother, though stingy to the depth of bone marrow, delivered many kids, you one among them. You and your siblings call her ‘amma’. But, why should I? She is not my mother. You know that . The world knows that. I give her due respect as an old lady, waiting for the second bell to ring, to quit.
    How is that you are keeping quiet?’

    ‘Who said I’m keeping quiet? I’m recording your voice to be sent to my mom, waiting for the second bell to ring’

    ‘Ammalu, please continue recording. Amma, my beloved amma,
    Whatever I blabbered so far was under the influence of anesthesia given in the morning for my cataract surgery. You look so beautiful and you are my real mother. Amma, you are my amma. Anxious to meet you amma.’


     

    ‘Ammalu, I’m telling you again and again. Your assessment of Ammini is absolutely wrong . Ammini is a good girl’

    ‘Girl? She is a muthi, muthassi, pAtti’

    ‘One alternate would have been sufficient’

    ‘There is no alternative but to kick her out when she come to dance before you’

    ‘Is this the way you treat a muthi, muthassi, pAtti?’

    ‘That is all what I wanted. I wanted to hear those words from your mouth. Don’t say again she is a girl. What is Ammini?’

    ‘She is an old lady, like you’

    ‘That is fine. It is a fact. We’re all old; you’re young. Only I will say that, not other women, young or old’

  • Last night, no light.

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    Last night, no light; power off for an hour,
    Struggled we two, me and my brother.

    I cried, ‘match box’,
    He bought a soap box !
    I yelled’ ‘torch light’,
    He bought a cooker weight!

    No cells in the torch
    No sticks in the match
    No trace of a candle
    Waste was my wandle.

    Mind went back to my comfort zone
    Where the sun is soft, the moon mild
    It is a joy even to call back those days
    Not to condemn my present days
    But fact is fact, now no light
    In dark, I sweat.

    Absolutely unmoved by heat and darkness
    Vicha was singing MasthAn Sahib songs
    ‘Enough of your Masthan, tell me this’,
    I taunted my brother on divine bliss

    ‘Will you look after the house affair
    When I go for my eye repair?’
    ‘Oh!’, he said meaning ‘yes’
    ‘Will you look after me?, I asked, next
    ‘Oh’, he said thrice and continued with his MasthAn!

    Suddenly glowed the emergency light,
    A hundred candies who lighted
    And a hundred matches who gifted?

    I turn and see the pooja lamp
    Which I lighted in the morning
    Still bright, I missed its sight
    And searched for a torch light!

    We miss to enjoy what we have
    And look for what we don’t have
    I’m happy I have my kin
    To support me wherever I’m
    Many miss that bliss, but,
    Masthan Saheb, I shouldn’t miss!

  • Before I touched, the chariot moved.

     

    Men of muscles and mighty elephants
    Pushed the chariot in full force.
    ‘Dwarakadeesh!’, cried the crowd,
    But, not an inch, the chariot moved.

    Seven elephants from the worlds above
    And seven from below,
    All mighty, majestic tuskers,
    Came dashing, all together
    Pushed the chariot with great force
    Their trumpets trembled the mountains
    Their foot beats crumbled the earth,
    ‘Dwarakaadeesh!’, cried the crowd.
    But, not an inch the chariot moved.

    Startled by the shocking news
    Yeshodha came, Nanda came,
    Gopis came, came the entire gokulam
    ‘Hei, Gopala, hei Govinda!’
    All cried and pushed and pushed
    But, not an inch the chariot moved.

    ‘Call Devaki mAta’!, shouted someone
    Devaki came with Vasudeva,
    Her eyes swollen like a monsoon cloud
    Her hands shivering like a winter leaf,
    She went near, to push the cart
    But before her hand, a tear drop
    Touched the chariot, it rolled and rolled
    The crowd cheered and cheered.

    ‘Wah, you did it!’, cried Yasodha.
    ‘Not me, my dreams’, said Devakii
    ‘From the night I lost my baby
    I longed and longed to rock his cradle
    Just once and even today
    Before I touched , the chariot moved’

  • Her thoughts have only one direction

     

    Like waving a toffee box before a kid
    And asking him to shut his mouth
    Heavy downpour last night,
    Now, heat returned in full might.

    ‘Why a/c for me?’,
    I asked my son, long back.
    ‘You need it dad’, he said.
    Not me, my children know what I need!

    ‘Why a new birth for me?’
    I asked my Master above.
    ‘You need it !’, He smiled
    Me to Earth, He mailed.
    Not me, my Master knew what I need .

    He didn’t push me down,
    Lodged me in my mom’s chamber
    A safe pool where I swam
    Don’t remember cool or warm.

    AC or non AC, take things easy.
    But climate has a say
    In moulding our life,
    Climate in and climate outside.

    Provide a good climate
    For the children to grow
    With your words, deeds and behavior
    Akin to their mom’s inner chamber!

    Puritan love is the AC there in.
    Positive compassion the PC
    No ‘I’ nor ‘me’, in mom’s affection
    Her thoughts have only one direction.
    With no iPad and no iPhone
    She sees your face and hears your voice
    As you were her part then
    And even now.

  • Whom to ask, who did it?

     

    Yes, my body, the Sun scorches
    To mind too, the heat reaches
    But who tore my body into two
    And took away a half?
    Certainly not the Sun
    And whom to ask who did it?

    Injuries inflicted, came without calling,
    Some healed, some healing,
    Some will never heal.
    The Sun didn’t do it.
    And whom to ask, who did it?

    If you can carry on
    With a half – sliced body,
    Wounds healed and healing;
    And pull your cart in heat or cold,
    You will reap your crops
    Despite your warps.

    I want to leave behind
    Not my cart empty
    May be some toys, for the kids’ joy
    May be some words to heal the wounds,
    May be even my laugh and smiles,
    Seen from far, far miles
    But never a drop of tear
    Or the old wounds’ smear

    My losses are mine, gone in with my wine.
    And in my children’s domain
    Smell of sandal paste and jasmine
    Alone should remain
    The sandal from their father
    And jasmine from their mother.

  • My memorable Rameswaram trip

     

     

    We drove from Madurai to Rameswaram in the morning of March 23, 2017 and returned the same evening, through the Pampan bridge. That one day experience will ever remain with me, especially the pitrukarmas on the sea bed.

    ‘Iyer Mani onkalai gavanitchuparu- will take care of you,’ said the influential businessman at Rameswaram, introduced by my friend Taliparambha Ganesh.

    Iyer Máni is Mani Vadhyar. When I met him and also when I left him, he appeared to be a confused man, but once on his job, he was the man for the job!

    Soon after I reached his house, in the morning,  I explained what I would like to do and wanted to know his demand. He didn’t commit. When I insisted, he said, ‘onnum vendAm, enakku ellAm irukku- I need nothing, I have enough’ . He lifted and rotated his hand and showed the house, as a proof of his prosperity. Later I knew it was not his house, but his brother’s who is no more!

    ‘Not this man for my job,’ I thought but he won’t leave me as he had clear instructions from Taliparambha Ganesh’s friend ‘to take care of me- avar periyavaru. avarai gavanitchukkunko’

    ‘Follow me’. He asked us and declared, ‘Onkaluuku onnum theriyAthu- you know nothing ( about the proceeding and practices here)’

    He kick -started his two wheeler and we drove behind him. No other way!

    And it was a sight to watch, the Vadhyar, wearing a helmet, his uthareeyam flying in air, driving in top speed, with no other vehicle in sight in the long road to Dhanushkodi.

    Dhanushkodi is 20. Km away from Rameswaram, devastated by the 1964 cyclone which decimated all structures and took away the life of nearly ten thousand people. With absolute impartiality, Nature had converted to debris a church, a temple, railway station , fishermen’s huts and every other standing structure on her path. It is difficult to believe, going by what you see now, that there existed once a small township with men, women and children, busily engaged in their activities, enjoying the sea breeze and viewing the amazing sunrise and sunset. In fact, there is nothing to see there now, but the very sight itself with scattered remains of structures and the mighty sea behind, is worth visiting.

    Vadhyar stopped his vehicle at a point beyond which a new road has been recently constructed to reach the end point of the land, but that is yet to be officially inaugurated. A big bamboo barricade managed by a few police men stops the entry. One has to hire a jeep or a mini truck and drive through the beach, virtually through the sand, prepared to push the vehicle and even to get stranded if the vehicle doesn’t move through the watery, sandy path. That was how people interested in seeing the end of the land, were going earlier and are going even now, unless they are VIPs whom the police salute and allow entry!

    We were watching, seated in our car, Mani Vadhyar arguing with the cops, calling someone and handing over the phone to the cops. Ten minutes waiting.

    Alas, goes up the bamboo barricade, the cops didn’t salute us but allowed our vehicle to pass through. That was exactly what we wanted and not their salutes.

     

     

    Chapter two.

    Elaborate rituals to satisfy the souls of the dead are performed by many but my desire and capacity was to have a simple tilatharpanan , offering sesame water on the sacred sea bed. It is not possible for me now to go to Allahabad, Kashi, Gaya etc and come back to Rameswaram again for a second round of rituals after completing the prescribed rituals on the bank of the Ganges. I had earlier, under better health and circumstances, performed shradhams in the Ganges several times and once, along with my wife at Gaya, Brahmakapalam etc earlier and now my desire was Just to remember with respect the predecessors and pray for the reunion of their souls with the Ultimate. My father believed in that, though he had no opportunity to go to Rameswaram. I am not sure whether my children will be going.

    Mani Vadhyar spread the materials he had brought with him, on the sand and asked me to take bath in the sea.
    ‘If you can’t do it, sprinkle water on your head and come’, he said. Even my sisters were hesitant about my fitness for a sea bath but once I was in the waters, I forgot my age and disability and dipped my head and body several times and returned completely fresh in body and mind and performed the rituals, seated under the scorching sun , with no head cover, unlike the Vadhyar of half my age. He had brought with him sufficient cooked rice for offering pindams and asked me again and again to recollect the names and gothrams of several relatives and I could therefore offer food with unalloyed sincerity to several souls, including my three brothers in law, my father in law and mother in law whom I wanted to visit during her last days but could not, my elder brother who died when he was just one year old, my beloved sister Raji who died young, her son Rajesh who died much younger and I performed his last rites at Chicago last year, my two siblings who died a few minutes or days after entering this world, my own uncle and aunt and many more. It was not an elaborate shradham but the mental Peace and satisfaction it gave me will last ever. Vadhyar again and again asked for the names of the second wives of elders and I said ‘no’ , as to my knowledge they were as honest as I’m , though Iyer Mani didn’t appear to believe me!
    ‘Aarukkavathu erukkaname- some would have certainly had a second wife’, he doubted . I’m not surprised. In my family, women used to outlive their husbands. The only exception was my wife.

    We went inside the great temple without the help of Vadhyar but had no problem. My brother in law Patchu helped me to pass from one theertham to the next, treading through the wet floor, without slipping and falling. We had wonderful darsanam too.
    In total, my Rameswaram trip was a ‘janmasAbhalyam’. I’m unlikely to make another trip, but no worries.

    While coming out of the temple after worship, preceded by the rites on the sea bed and bath from the water poured on head from the 22 sacred wells, my sister’s remarked with absolute happiness and satisfaction : ‘Anna, you did it!’.

    I pointed my hand to the sanctum and bowed and said, ‘He did it’

    Yes, he did it. Last year, this time, when I was struggling with the side effects of radiation and harmon treatments, I never expected that I would be able to come back to India and undergo the strain of such a long pilgrimage, but He made it.

    I’m remade now, yes, I’m

  • More rooms there in ?

    My new neighbor was staring at the balcony of the house next to his, seated on an easy chair, near his front gate.  I warned him. ‘Kounder, the owner of the house might think that you are looking at his wife. He is a man with strong muscles’

    ’How old is he?’, enquired my neighbor

    ‘May be 70, may be 75. But how does the age matters?’

    ‘The Kownder and wife fight like cat and mouse!’

    ‘How does that matter? The moment Kownder smells your eyes search for her, he will  start loving her deeply’

    ‘How many rooms are there in that house?’ He equired.
    I was relieved. His interest was limited to knowing the size of the house’

    ‘Seven,’ I replied.

    ‘My house has only six rooms’. The disappointment of having one room less, was visible in his face.

    ‘How many rooms do you use?’, I enquired.

    ‘Only one’

    ‘You haven’t given a separate room to your wife?’

    ‘No, we share one room. That is more than enough for us’
    He has one room more than my house’. My neighbor expressed his anguish again .

    Ammalu calłed from the other side of the common wall.
    ‘SP come soon. The neighbor’s cat has entered our house and delivered five cute kittens’

    ‘Let them enjoy our space. We are now only two’

    ‘Come, just to see them’

    I went inside my house, but soon come out hearing the loud and pathetic cry of my neighbor’s wife.. The Poor guy was struggling for breath. The ambulance was calłed and on the way to hospital, he passed away. He was not destined to die even in the single room he was sharing with his wife, out of the six rooms they had. He died in the ambulance bench. Has any rooms in the vast space he left for?

    His cat and kitten were happily roaming inside our house, as if the entire house belonged to them!

  • My antharvaahini inner flow

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    This short poetry appeared in my mind during my recent train journey , while reading a post on Arjuna’s chariot catching fire soon after Lord Krishna got down from it, at the end of the Kurukshetra war.
    English meaning added in the end.
    എന്റെ തേര് തീപ്പിടിക്കാതെ, മണ്ണിൽത്തആഴാതെ കാക്കുവോൻ
    എന്റെ മർമം നോക്കിവരും അസ്ത്രങ്ങൾ ഏറ്റുവാങ്ങുവോൻ
    എവിടേക്കു തിരിഞ്ഞാലും അവിടെ ഉണ്ട് കേശവൻ
    മഴകാറിന് നിറം, മഞ്ഞപ്പട്ടുടുത്തുള്ള മാധവൻ.
    മയിൽ‌പ്പീലി ഇളംകാറ്റിൽ ഇളകുന്നുണ്ട് സർവദാ
    മണിയോടക്കുഴൽ പാട്ടുമൊഴുകുന്നുണ്ടു കൂടവേ

    അവനെൻ അന്തരാത്മാവിൽ
    ഒഴുകും ചോലയല്ലയോ?
    അവനെന്റെ അടിത്തട്ടിന്
    അസ്ഥിവാരവുമല്ലയോ?

    ഒന്നിനും ആശയില്ലെന്റെ പൊന്നെ
    പൊൻമേനി കണ്ടു ജ്ഞാൻ
    ഒഴുകി ചേരണം നിന്റെ
    അമൃതാനന്ദ ഗംഗയിൽ

    Entae ther thee pidikkathae,
    mannil thaazhathae kaakuvon
    EntE marmam nooki varum
    Asthrangal eattu vaanguvon
    Evidaekku thirinjaalum
    Avidai undu Kesavan
    Mazhakkarin niram, manja-
    pattuduthulla MAdhavan

    Mayilpeeli ilam kaattil
    Ilankunnudu sarvadaa
    Maniyodakuzhal paatum-
    mozhukunnundu koodavae.

    Avanen antharaatmaavi-
    lozhukum cholayallao?
    Avanentae adithatti
    nnasthivaaravu mallayo?

    Onninnum Asayill ente ponnae
    Nin poomeni kandujAn
    Ozhuki cheranam nintae
    Amrithaananda Gangayil
    No  poetry is transferable into another language without losing its essence, charm. I’m therefore, giving a gist of what I wrote for the information of my friends unfamiliar with Malayalam.:
    “He guards my chariot ensuring that it doesn’t catch fire or sinks into the ground.
    He faces the arrows aimed at my vital parts;

    Wherever my eyes turn to, Kesavan is there,
    Madhavan, in the colour of clouds, wearing the yellow silk clothes, is there.

    The peacock feather (on his head) is always moving in breeze.
    The sweet melody from his flute accompanies it.

    Isn’t He the streamlet flowing in my ‘Antharaathma!’
    Isn’t He my very foundation?

    I have no desire for anything else, my dear,
    other than amalgamating with the your flow of the Ganges of Eternal bliss, watching your charm.

  • That is how He wants us to be

    ‘You touch, hug, kiss and rush back
    Can’t you be with me for ever?’,
    Complained the shore to the ocean,
    ‘Can’t you be with me, my lover?’

    ‘How?’, asked the sea, ‘is there a sea with no shore
    And a shore with no sea?
    Won’t your serene smile cease for ever?
    Won’t your sand stop flying in air?
    Where will the conch shells glitter?
    Where will the baby frogs and turtles
    Learn letters?

    And for me, it is a fun to touch you and run
    And watch your exasperation
    And then your exhilaration !
    You be always a shore and me a sea;
    That is how He wants us to be.