Changing times

As time goes by a lot of changes happen. Nothing remains the same as before. The anger fades, the revenge vanishes, and the hatred subsides. All happens because of the sea of change within. What was seen earlier is seen with the same pair of eyes but differently. What appeared ugly earlier appeared beautiful now. The face in the mirror though same except with aging lines, now has an inner beauty.

Many of us do not know we need to ask to get something. Being modest by not asking has deprived us of many things in life. When you did ask it rained and poured. Otherwise how can I explain my house, my children studying well, my site? I thank my husband wholeheartedly. Once upon a time I was angry because of all the hardships faced. Today, when I look back I have changed as a person, I have evolved as a person, have become more loving, understanding, tolerant, and have more gratitude.

Would I have had all this if I had to go about it alone? Would I have been able to send the children to good colleges,would the children have had the choice of what they wanted to study, would they have had a fairly good life,would they be able to travel, meet people and get the exposure that they are getting??

I am deeply humbled and thank God for everything I have been blessed with and for all the things I have learnt on the way. I definitely would never exchange it for anything else.

Now, I have realized that I have always been a good human being with all my shortcomings. I am grateful for all the blessings from Almighty on countless occasions .The power of time, power of distance, power over natural resources are all in His Hands. I am glad to be whoever I was, am and will be.   

Let us always do right things to have His Grace always with us and acknowledge him in everything we do, say or hear to lift our spirits in both joy and sorrow.

The Lone Bike Rider

Long, long ago,in the land of latex and lakes, with hilly terrain, with gender difference to the maximum it was only the sterner sex who perched on the drivers seat.The long winding narrow roads going up and coming down had a serpentine look. The vehicles flashed by at breakneck speed whether it was the Fast passenger of KSRTC with limited stops or the local Lovely, Daisy, Unnikrishnan and others or, the bikes with mundu or lungi riders or, the few high end cars or jeeps driven by good looking, well- groomed, young or old men from respectable khandans or others, with starch stiff clothes which made looking sideways or backwards an effort without a total sideways body movement .

The few houses in large tracts of red colored soil dotted with rubber trees, cocoa, mango, jack-fruit, coconut trees with black pepper vines winding round them was a visual treat. The density of houses by roadside increased only as you neared the town. 

The narrow road was always the monopoly of the gentlemen, as the fairer sex only belonged to  Mills and Boons tales and were not conditioned to drive on these roads. Now this was a myth soon to be rewritten by the young ladies of 2YK who went out to study and came back with good driving skills to traverse on roads of any kind and on different types of vehicles to save on time and to get rid of the dependency to be chaperoned.

It must have been early eighties when a city bred girl made inroads into a rural household bordering on the limits of town and village thought it was time saving to continue her riding skills of the metropolitan city. The walk up and down on the hilly terrain to reach the bus stop left her huffed and puffed only to miss the bus which left a minute ago. No short cut or any other way.Maybe holding bag and sari knee length to cross the fields which would land you in water with any false move which was any day ruled out.

Now, riding a Bajaj Chetak and zipping through was neither a welcome sight nor welcomed at all. It meant tearing through male bastions. As she went by, some hooted and whistled which gradually stopped. The buses deliberately pushed her to the side of the road with no riding space, but she continued never afraid .She never violated rules at all.She serviced her vehicle regularly and always ensured breaks were in good condition. Gradually she became a face on the road riding as any other.

She remembered one day when the road was empty, as she was riding she heard the sound of a Bullet behind with its typical noise with high rear view mirrors and an elderly Kottayam Kunjachan  in nice silk jubba and white mundu with the trade mark sun glasses, a thick chain, honking endlessly behind.He appeared old enough to be her father.

There was no traffic front or behind with space as wide as a bus width to overtake. But he chose not to and took endless pleasure honking behind, the regular MCP that he was. The entire 4 km stretch ,he rode behind, honking till  the city limits when he overtook and went his way.Some real pleasure he experienced because the girl continued without any hurry maintaining the same speed, unperturbed without looking behind.

The day was not far off, when there was an encounter face to face. Both were familiar faces as in those days wearing helmets was a rarity.There was no place to hide and the glasses did not help to mask the shameful face as he squirmed to extend a cheque for encashment . It was fun to see  him

wanting the earth to cave in and hide as he made a hasty exit.

Bananas

It was for breakfast one day, tunnel cake was made. A savoury made with rice powder and coconut and steamed. It can be had with a variety of side dishes sweet or otherwise. Bananas also complement it.

So one such day , a little girl was sent to buy bananas. While giving money very clear instructions were given. If it is not ripe do not buy as we can’t eat it raw. If it is very ripe just buy a little as it would become bad later. If it is okay buy . Money was given. She happily trotted out heard or not heard till she came back home with overripe bananas for a full twenty five rupees.

The mother went bananas for being duped as a child and made her eat them all  to remember for life that ,“No one should dupe you and whatever you buy it should be value for money”

But years later when she recounted it very vividly, it appeared that the moral was lost, only the punishment remembered.

It was then the mother remembered there could have been another way of instilling a value. It is alright this time but next time think properly before doing anything and be aware of people who will cheat you. Perhaps this would have been a better alternative.

Time lost can’t be reset nor memories erased. Though time is a great healer, mothers are meant to be perfect people in little minds, till girls grow up.

Today the mother is going bananas with laughter over the bananas episode.

The Home Beside a River

Many years ago, there lived a small family near a river. The river helped all those living near it mainly for bathing and washing clothes. When rains came, or when the there was a minor earthquake in the far, far away hills which would be more than half a day’s journey by bus, the river would be in spate. The water would be muddy yellow at first and then clear water carrying a lot of things like logs of wood, utensils, good edible fish, little tortoises etc. Otherwise the river was peaceful and had a tranquilizing effect for anyone sitting on its bank.

All most all the houses on the river bank used to get a good variety of fish for lunch and dinner, during monsoon times. The local boys would cut down banana stems tie them together to make a plank and with makeshift oars used to throw nets in the river to get a good catch of fish. Small children, young ,old  as well as pets all were given a joy ride like we see in amusement parks.Everyone was generally happy.

Sometimes the river would encroach the neighboring houses almost drowning even the six foot gates. At this time children learnt swimming as the water was good and there was no fear of drowning. Ropes used to be tied across the waist and held by some elders on the land or the husk of coconut tied together would be  used as a float, or old tyre tubes would find its way .Young and old all enjoyed themselves as if in a swimming pool with clear water and no fees to be paid. There were times when the whole area flooded with roads and fields submerged under water with all people staying inside.

Krithi never knew how to swim but ensured her children learnt it either at the local swimming pool or at the river. She would dip her kids headlong into water to remove their fears till they splashed their hands and legs with gulping  some water in the process.

The days when the municipal water played truant or the motor went bad for pumping water, she would go early morning at the crack of dawn, when no one was around to take a bath and wash the clothes before leaving for office. It was very refreshing. She never ventured into the water but went till the last step of the Kuli Kadavu or bathing area. The children would also take a dip before and after school. 

They enjoyed themselves, catching the small guppy fish in the towel or the small guppy nibbling at their legs while in water.The rains ceased, the river receded, the children were waiting for the monsoons and floods once again to revive memories and enjoy themselves.

Makeover

Full many a flower, born to bloom unseen

Waste it’s fragrance in the desert air.

Lost time cannot be regained.

So on, so forth.

Opportunities limited, worse still georgekutty

Seen, unseen or overlooked,

Nobody told anything was good.

None appreciated a work well done,

So, self esteem remained a low.

Now with opportunities galore,

Given, appreciated,

Encouraged to core,

Why does self esteem still remain low?

Good and bad had same output,

Which meant and screamed,

Take a re-look at the root.

Deft hands at work,

To unleash, reset,

Replace and rewire,

And breathe again,

Life once more.

To bring forth blossoms,

To be seen and smelt,

And dance once more.

To each, its own support,

To bounce again and,

Come back to life.

Whiskey

In a far away house, away from the road side ,an uninhabited place, quiet ,peaceful and beautiful, lived one  little G Kutty. GKutty was little so called Little Gkutty. Now, Gkutty was a happy go lucky person who lived just for the moment. To think of yesterday and tomorrow was too much of a nuisance. She got herself a kitten for company to keep her occupied otherwise.

The tiny little kitten made its entry. It was named Whiskey as Toddy, was the pup of Puppy, the black bitch, not belonging to the order of any high pedigree to name. Just an  ordinary, lovable street dog, which guarded her home. Whiskey was also looked after by Puppy when it was small. Brandy, Arrack, Gin, Cocktail, Champagne, Vodka, were all names ready for the next of generations though Whiskey was a Tom cat coming from a high pedigree.  Time proved Whiskey was a commoner to the core as she disappeared for days at certain periods in its life.

Whiskey was a well groomed, well trained. It was  a month old kitten when it came. It was a clean kitten and conducted itself very well. It hid from people and quickly darted across rooms as if in a tearing hurry. Actually it was getting used to and exploring the new surroundings. It used the bathroom to pee and poop and never bothered anybody. It polished the milk in the small bowl and curled itself to sleep. The favourite place was below the TV stand initially till it established its stand in the family.

It followed Gkutty wherever she went from this room to that walking majestically behind Gkutty with its tail held high meowing along, “May the way be cleared, Her wish is my command”.

Soon it became strong and was able to get that leap on to the window sill .The window became the point of entry and exit. It sunbathed as much as it could, ran after butterflies and birds in the back yard and climbed the little trees and sharpened its claws.

Now that its position was established, made loud meowing noise announcing its presence. The sofa was the favourite place .No matter what you did it would not budge or else it came and settled on the lap. Very attention seeking it was. It would respond with its ears and tail when you called out Whiskey. It was very musically inclined. The more musical the name Whiskey sounded, accordingly it would move its tail. A very nice time pass.

Now there was one inmate who did not like Whiskey. It was the Man of the house who did not approve of whiskey on the bed, sofa or chair. Whiskey was shooed away. Whiskey never took any offence and came back to square one only to be shooed away.

Whiskey never accepted defeat or reacted in anger. It adopted great tactics .It rubbed against the shin of the Man of the house till it got accepted. When the night had long set in and everyone in deep slumber, without fail, everyday till the Man of the house left after his holidays, Whiskey lay curled up in the crook of his leg and slept peacefully. The Man was so taken by this ardent pursuit that he even gave up going to pee in the night for fear of disturbing its peaceful sleep.

Whiskey proved that even the hardest rock can be tamed by the constant lashing of the waves of the sea. Whiskey is remembered with love and affection till this date and is perhaps loafing and romping around  in the Sullivan surroundings of Jala Vayu Vihar in Kamhattan.

Money Kutty-A Kid

Once upon a time in a village not far away from city there was a girl who liked nature and animals. She had lived in such beautiful surroundings almost on a slope overlooking fields where cows and goats grazed. Enough room to run around and walk along the narrow path separating fields from one another. The  grass covered vacant space to play football in the evenings or on holidays  or lie down and gaze up at the passing clouds or stars at night.

Everyday evenings, in those days, meant children of all ages and young people converged here for their daily round of exercise, gossip , games and stories till  sunset. After that it was a must every one went back ,washed hands ,legs and face or had a bath before the lamp was lit   and then join in the evening prayers.

Evening prayers was a must in every home with the  lighting of lamp. Venturing out after that was not taken very lightly. Quite contrary to the present day state . Prayer was not just a ritual.It was a thanksgiving, it was a meditation, an asking, a looking into the inside and acknowledging  a force much beyond us which was to be acknowledged.

This girl was called all Koora kutty though she had a regular name. She was here, she was there,she was everywhere. She was near and dear to all. She never hurt anybody nor said vile things. There was no function without her presence. She must have been five plus or just a little more.

Now, her neighbor, Molly mamma was rearing a mother goat and kid. This child was very fond of the kid and named her Money kutty. Koora kutty then found a bell and tied it round her neck so that it jingled and she loved running with the goat-kid in the evening and enjoyed the sound of tinkling bells.

Money kutty soon became so  fond of her and would respond to her voice instantly. Every evening she returned from school in an auto,the sound of the auto would make Money kutty restless .Money kutty would cut past the rope or the pole to which it was tethered  or where ever it was tied to and run to her as if to receive  a long lost friend .

“Koora kutty had a little goat ,

 A little goat, a little goat,

That would have liked to go to school.

She named  the goat Money kutty, Money kutty,

Money kutty danced and bleated ,

When it  heard  it’s  name,

It  followed her wherever she went

Tinkling it’s bell along the way.

Heigh o the heigh o the hehiho!

One little goat and a young little girl

Went heigh o the heigh o the hehiho! Ho!”

 Still in uniform she would throw her bag and hug Money kutty and go for a spin . She did not feel hungry and was almost transported to another world .It was difficult to imagine who was the child as they jelled so well. It was herculean task each day to take them to their respective homes. Come next day they enjoyed again heigh o the heigh o the hehiho! Ho! And the next day came and the next and so on……

The Small Bogie

Once upon a time, in a small bogie , which gets detached at a station near Nila ,entered an unaccompanied woman with less than a three-month-old child. Perhaps her brother, a young lad kept the bag and baggage near her seat. The woman held the baby close to her bosom. The sound of a whistle and the train slowly moved. She waved out of the window at the diminishing figure. The train picked speed into the night.

The journey by train was not new to her, but what was new was the baby with her. The night was dark outside except for the occasional fleeting glow somewhere far away as the train rushed ahead. The light was dim in side. The bogie had two doors one right and one left near the toilet at the farther end from her seat.

It appeared quite odd that she was travelling alone. She was well dressed and appeared to come from a middle class family and all were travelling second class. She requested the family nearby to hold her child that she may go to the toilet to relieve herself, as everyone was getting ready to sleep. The family refused.

It was a sudden jolt not at all anticipated. She did not know what to do. It looked as if the woman had contemplated abandoning her child and jumping out. The family looked away. The woman quickly regained her composure. She just smiled and sat down rocking her child. There was no trace of emotion .Soon everyone was asleep.

She tossed and turned on her lower berth with the child. It was long past midnight when she could control no more, she laid the baby on the floor because the train was hurtling at high speed . It would be dangerous leaving the child unattended on the only lower berth. She quickly went and relieved herself and came back. She picked the child adjusted her sari and tried to sleep. It was just a few hours away from dawn. She was afraid to sleep because she had to get down alone with child, bag and baggage. The train would halt for just a minute. What if she overslept?

The station came, she armed herself with bag, baggage and child. She was the only one getting down, as this bogie was destined to a different location where all others except her was bound. The reservations were full except for this one in this bogie which she got. No other  to get back home in time to join office after the ninety day maternity leave. She could not extend her leave as it would lead to loss of pay, an option not at all feasible because of financial constraints. She opened the door to alight when there stood a man in white, smiling. He quickly took the luggage and helped her down. She was happy and relieved of all anxiety. A smile crossed her face.

It was her husband. He knew she was travelling alone with the sudden change of plans. The new dad that he was, exhibiting his finer side came as fast as he could, hopping buses all night to just reach in time. He knew she did not know which platform to take to board the next train.

The whistle sounded and the train which brought her resumed its   journey. Together they moved happily ahead blissfully unaware of a pair of eyes watching them from the bogie window.

I Can

I can dance like the leaves,

I can swim like the fish,

I can soar like the bird,

I can dive like the penguin,

I can think like a man,

I can dream like the seasons,

I can sting like the wasp,

I can wound like a warrior,

I can cook like the chef,

I can unfold as the butterfly,

I can write like the professional,

I can sing like the nightingale,

 l can smile like the radiant,

I can cry like a baby,

I can work like a horse,

I can touch like the breeze,

I can do everything,

And much more,

I can do it all,

In a happy state.

Revealed

It is nice to hear soothing words,

With good vocabulary.

Words bereft

Of warmth, sincerity,

Evoke no response,

Just another routine.

Listeners fathom,

Feelings depth,

Expressed or intended.

If satisfied,

Of making right noises,

You’re entirely mistaken.

Only a subconscious projection,

Of ruined image,with low esteem.

A Big Fat Dad

Once upon a time there was a big fat dad,

 Full of love , immensely loved by you.

 Addressing  him “edda acha “without any shame,

His world changed when you were born.

With no clue  to function as a dad.

 Sure MCP to the core, yet full of love for you

 With countless friends and eventful life,

Eager to chaperone you around.

All of a sudden, failed business, no job,

Only debts for company, and nothing to do.

Nothing was deliberate , when fate changed overnight,

Quite young at that point in time,

All doors closed not knowing what to do

God opened a door and we latched on,

Ready to travel the seas, to be away from family,

As an opportunity, to set right all that went wrong.

Meanwhile seething anger, frustrations,

Accusations , counter accusations

Never imagining that it would

Take it’ toll on the growing, innocent you.

We thought it was the only chance,

To set everything right, with earnest hope,

That you may grow, bloom and soar.

 Looking back at ma and dad,

Through all the differences,

There has always been,

An underlying unity in diversity.

As today what we are, what we have,

Would never have happened, had we broken apart.

 We were, and are, and will always be,

Thankful to God ,everyday of our lives

For all the miracles, that happened in our lives.

It makes it even better, when you choose to remember,

Tit bits of your long gone days,

To make us take a trip along memory lane,

To make our days fun and happiness filled.