I had the crazy habit of smelling fountain ink. Someone was the reason for it. There was a girl who was my senior at school as well as at my church catechism class. Let her name be Diya. We were friends; she was always fond of ink pen and used only them no matter when or where. Whenever I met her, I have noticed her fingers which held several stains of blue ink especially on her right thumb and point finger. Her note books/diaries were so unanimous and neatly written. Somehow I pursued my mother to get me fountain pen and chelpark blue ink. In fact mom had taken me to the small town adjacent to our village for the monthly purchase and asked me to choose from what the shopkeeper had displayed. My first ink pen! I was so happy to get the pen. Its body was white with different colors of heart shapes on it and cost 15 rupees. I happened to save it for many years. With the age I lost it. Even now when I see ink pens, I feel a strange adoration for my mother. Also for letting me take my choice from my childhood.
In my school days I used to observe and copy the handwriting style of my classmates: long, stunted, slanting, running letters etc etc. I attempted to follow Diya’s handwriting too. I succeeded also to some point. I started using ink pen at school for all the classes. But I was sad for an unusual reason. Now the reason seems ridiculous. But for the child in me, it was significant. Even after using ink pen for whole day I never got any ink stains on my fingers like Diya. As days went, I purposefully got stains on the fingers and at the end of the day those stains made me feel happy. There originates my crazy habit of smelling the ink! Even tried writing with feathers of cuckoo, and duck.
I am thankful to Diya for evolving one more quality in me and that’s WRITING! This doesn’t mean that Diya used to write any literature works instead she used to write diary regularly. Since I was already following her footsteps somehow the idea of writing diary switch on, in me. May be at my 7th standard I started writing diary. That was a time when I blindly believed in spirituality. During my recent visits to home, few of the old diaries came up. I didn’t read my scribbling instead I was looking at my handwriting styles. I couldn’t stop laughing at my awkward habit.
With time, I got some what OK type hand writing and continued maintaining a diary till my college days. In schooldays, I attempted stories but wasn’t confident enough. It had the influence of novels which I came across on those days. I felt my writing to be above of my age and hence tore off all. Now I feel I shouldn’t have done that. Another thing which influenced my writing attempts was a Malayalam movie “Aaranyakam”. In the movie the actress is depicted to write diary, roam around the woods. She used to fill her tote bag with any book from her reading list, a water bottle, binocular, diary and fountain pen. I imitated her so many times on my school weekend days :p
I wasn’t interested in poetry and never took serious interest in essays/poems, short stories etc. I always preferred for novels. But with time and opportunity, that attitude changed; a mind ready to perceive in a broader spectrum. Without even reading much poetry, I started writing poetry. Most of them were attempted during post-graduation time due to some or the silly other frustrations. After 5 years, I brought those attempts to light and few good opinions/comments also I received on them. In the meanwhile I slowly found poetry to be readable for me.
I feel it all depends on the mood of a writer. Whether it is in the form of story/ poetry/ essay aim is to convey the theme/message or thought. So according to the writer’s mind set up, he can attempt and has the soul authority to give birth to any of the literature end products. I have attempted poetry 5 years back and now again I am back to essays and short stories. May be this is how it is. But I am always surprised by the home work done by the writers for weaving their historical fictions. That’s just brilliant attempt to live/describe places and eras which they haven’t ever known.
I feel proud to be born on the land of Tagore. Land of literary giants; many known as well as many remain unknown ones who walked into the past. Because of them we have the chance to know the diverse minds/culture etc. of our land. I am not eligible to say much about the glorious literary past which we hold.
No matter I write or not, one thing I am damn sure about and it’s about my affinity for books. I can’t live without them!!!


The Day!


Huhhhhh…there I can see a girl in the mirror. She is beautiful yet tensed and silent. A doll wrapped in grandeur Indian bridal outfit with shimmers of gold and finest red fabric. A red stole covering over her braided head showing slight glimpses of white jasmine flowers. She is wearing finest jewels yet reflecting simplicity. A red bindhi and a maang tikka, a tiny nose stud, black kohled eyes, subtle stained lips. A tiny round black kohl mark down beneath her ear, it’s a tradition to get rid of the evil eyes. She doesn’t seem to be aware about any rush around her now. She seems totally lost somewhere in her own world. The lehenga is best featuring her feminine body.
A little effort is needed to get those eyes sparkle on her the day. But where is her mind? Is she happy with the wedding? A message beeped in her phone and as soon as she reads “YAHIN HOON MEIN”, a smile crossed her lips. She looks ahead over the mirror and saw people walking in rush. A deep breath, come back to present, it’s my wedding day; the day, I told myself.
No matter how much I am consoled yet I hold this strange feeling of going to an entirely different ambience. Too much I think…I can’t stop myself from thinking. How will I manage my new life in a new place with the family which has entirely different cultural dimensions? We belong to two different states….language, religion, culture, cuisine, tradition etc. etc. These were all societal difference which never came into mind when we fell in love. Yet to bring the families together and melt the ice, these differences sprout out into mind. Those were the days when I hold the extreme patience. Family never stands against the happiness. Hence today I am here, a few moments away from my wedding ceremony.
Whenever I am going down deep into my thoughts, somehow he senses it. Either I get a call or message and bring me up. How can someone sense you when we aren’t around them? I haven’t ever felt like this before. Even now he brought me back to present. I looked around. The language doesn’t hold back happiness of our wedding among our families. I haven’t seen him after the wedding rituals like mehendi, haldi etc started. We can see each other only at the time of ceremony. Whenever I complain about it, he just laughs aloud. He knew very well how much curiosity is bubbling in me. I know that he too feel that more than what I feel, but he doesn’t show it now.
I tell him that it’s really becoming difficult to stay without seeing him. I wasn’t like this before I met him. His arrival has changed many things in me. He totally uprooted me from my routine. I didn’t realize the change until it became obvious about the realization. The realization that, it’s him, who can tame me. I never liked anyone force me to do anything. He had the right spell for me. Slowly yet within no time, he had the nomadic spirit of mine. Making me see how to set free myself from the hindrances, which hold back the nomad in me. I never had to hold back my mind…in fact my lips got back it’s smile and eyes it’s happiness. Oh my God! I am madly in love with him. Exhaling breath left a smile on my face. Yes, now I am not afraid to tell that I am in love. Nor can I neglect the fact that he can’t live without me.
His little sis came and informed that it’s time for the ceremony. All my family is here and their smiling happy faces are all on me as I stepped into the hall. My beautiful sisters are on both sides. They too have been longing for this day, wedding of their big sis. Mom and dad joined me. Dad seems tensed more than mom…he is emotional than mom. My brother is standing near the stage. He is happy too but seems serious. I could see many faces smiling at me, but I couldn’t respond well to them. My eyes were consciously in search. I could see the beautifully smiling little sis, and his parents near the mandap waiting for me. After one second, my eyes found what I wanted to see and there he is! He is wearing a golden color groom’s outfit with red tilak on his forehead. He is having his amazing naughty smile. I was feeling irritated for staying away last two days and he could read it too. He just giggled. In another second, he got back his intense gaze over me. His face had so many unsaid things which I could read. He wants to hug me, I could get it. I couldn’t stop smiling and obviously as usual he gets irritated whenever I caught his unsaid emotions.
The eye to eye talk of us was shadowed. My brother came forward and held my hands and led me to climb the steps of the stage. His one hand was over my shoulder. He was the tiny cute baby whom I loved so much. Now he is grown up and big enough to protect me. My eyes were on his face, smiling yet my eyes became wet. As soon as I reached, the smiling face at the mandap caught my mind status and signed me to take deep breath. I could see his face glowing with happiness. I did so and felt back to present.
The priest started reciting the hymns and rituals. Even though I didn’t understand much, I have only seen this mostly on the screens. The meaning and significance of each was explained to me. When time came to tie the knot, he was smiling and reading my face. He opened an embellished slender box which held a beautiful thin chain with tiny black beads and a pendant. He kept his word! The chain was really thin and cute. He didn’t want the remembrance of our matrimony to be heavy on me. I couldn’t stop my astonishment and looked at him. He was smiling and as if waiting to see my reaction. He just winked his eyes. The shower of flower distracted us and we looked around. Rituals continued for few more minutes. He came forward and whispered in my ears: NOW I AM LEGALLY YOUR LOVELY HUSBAND! I just poked his nose and said “OH, IS THAT SO? THEN I AM YOUR LOVELY WIFE”. My voice was little louder, all others looked at us and broke into laughter…



It’s time for me to bid goodbye to this room…this place…from last few years had been my place of rest…this room holds so much of my memories …witnessed my happiness…joy…sorrow…depressions and many more unexplained/upraised/uncelebrated emotions and scenes of my life related to this place. Yet I wasn’t attached too much to this…I always tried to avoid getting emotionally linked to this room…since I knew that one day I will have to go through this day… so I was mentally prepared…

The room was filled with books…magazines…dresses and what not…all major things were courier on previous days… and now just packing the final unavoidable things and starting the journey…huh …. A new journey… NEW HOPE.

I was asking me…so where is this sudden drift leading me to? Once I reach this destiny will I be able to say that “This is it”? There is hope in my breath…everything seems so quick now… checked the ticket…timing…I lost the count of checking and making myself realize that it’s REAL! He kept his word. Finally he is taking me. Deep exhales are coming out. May be I should start believe in miracle…maybe I should believe his words…I deserve to be happy and to be loved…I too can stay happy without being hurt…without being masking myself…just be ME!

At the other end of this journey, a small bed and someone with open hands is waiting for me…a deep sleep and when I wake up… i will part of a new life…a new beginning… so far I haven’t seen that new destination. But imaginations from the narrations make me feel…it’s going to be beautiful which will just make me happier. I have fallen in love for the place.

The cab came on time. Curiosity is growing in me. I am just few hours away from touching a long wished dream. The flight landed on the plains and now I need to travel the altitude. Easily I could find the bus for the hill. Felt grateful that he made privilege to get my heavy luggage earlier itself. One more hour…slowly butterflies of curiosity have begun to fly inside me. Mind is getting refreshed and my camera is continuously at work…searching for the story of every people I come across. May be at the end of this travel…i will be refilled for my next write up. As I have read somewhere, every face has a story…

The altitude slowly increased with twist and turns. The landscape is ready to welcome the winter. It’s been told that in few weeks’ time this mountain will be draped in white velvety snow. It’s my life time experience at a hill station…that too going to get rooted in a new land…which doesn’t own anything belonged to my tradition/culture. I am entering this land like a bohemian and going to a part of this land from now on. There is excitement and happiness is getting my spirit rise. But more than all these happiness, there is an immense pain of longing to see the beloved, who have been always reinforcing me through his voice through the ups and downs…

Huh… the thought having the first glance of my beloved…my exhaling breath hold so much pain and desperation to be with my better half. The bus halted for its last stop. As per instructions, I will be received by our home caretaker whom we call “Kaakka”. The word “our home” is giving me joy and pride. There he is, a man with my nameplate. He smiled and greeted me. He took one of my bags and walked ahead through the path running between the lush green trees. Just at half a kilometer distance, lies our new home. The ferns wet my shoes with dew drops. It’s 11.30am and yet the air still holds the chillness of the morning. The sunshine is creating patterns on the ground even though the leaves are trying to hide the rays.

The trees are giving way to opening space and as I finished crossing trees, a small slantingly roofed green and white cottage came into view. The house owns a garden and an orchard at the sideways. There is an arch of white and pink bougainvillea plants as the stoned laid path begins with a small wooden fence. The sunshine is reaching more clearly now yet the mist in the air is giving the effect of early morning. Kaakka went ahead, kept the bags and wished me a good day. My legs stopped in front of the bougainvillea arch. My mind was trying to register the long desired dream into reality. A deep exhale and I was back from the enchantment. Suddenly the heart started pounding, mixture of happiness, longing, pain. I can’t hold back, need to step ahead. Finally it’s time to see him.

Each step of mine seemed heavy; I didn’t realize that my vision was getting blurred. Something chilled my cheeks, stream of tears. I almost stumbled and felt. As I opened my eyes, I realized I didn’t fall. In no time I was standing and a hand was holding me. A lightening bolt of energy went through my hand where the hand touched me. My eyes were met by a pair of brown eyes which held happiness and were ready to tease me as ever it had been. No words were uttered! In fact no words were required. The eyes told the tales of long waiting…Now I was held in his hands; a smile began to appear on his lips.

Oh my God!!!! I have been missing these brown eyes, this wanting to be held protected. Deep breathe broke off from me as well as I started smiling with tears. The tears didn’t fall on ground. It was kissed and wiped off. The nearness made me feel the warm breath even at this altitude. I began to mumble something but was stopped. I started biting lips as usual whenever my heart flood with emotions and need words to express them. In no time I was hugged tightly and the breath of numerous unsaid emotions broke out from him. His heartbeat was loud enough for me to sense it. I could feel the wetness of his tears over my shoulder. I didn’t stop him. After few moments he marked his kiss on my forehead and led me inside our home. OUR HOME!!!

PS: The finest thread for this post isn’t mine. In fact i just woven the threads. Some one recently lemme see a glimpse of an amazing concept which gave me the kick to write this. No words are enough to express the happiness to that person, who let me weave. Its a two day effort while the idea started churning from last week. I had immense joy as if i lived in it when i wrote in the early morning of my Mumbai life 🙂


Need of a friend……


Days and years have passed

So many faces passed ahead

Few were familiar ones

No one owned what i searched for

So what i searched in those faces?

For the purest form of friendship

Searched for my childhood friends

I don’t recognize any of them anymore.

Strange! with them i shared my food

They were part of my childhood life.

Now i don’t remember even their names

Nor their faces if crossed my path.

People, places, time everything changed.

Except one thing: my search.

My search for the innocent friendships.

I kept asking each and everyone

All whom i met on my journey.

With time i was forced to walk ahead

I walked but my heart wept

I was still in search

I wished just to have one.

Years passed, a truth was revealed

Its a bliss to have one at least.

One who will stand by you.

No matter what you are.

My search went on…so many faces

But only one answer: i don’t deserve!

It hurt me, wounded me

Yet i didn’t accept my failures nor my loneliness…..

Even with years my wound remained same

Time kept running ahead…

New places, new life…kept me busy

So busy that i wasn’t left to remember.

To remember my wounds….

Even at the darkest hour of nights!

Those faces and their answers haunted me.

“I don’t deserve them! “

Will this be the same answer forever?

Will there be an end to my search?

Tears aren’t left any, eyes yet with hopes….

Not ready for failures!

Its more tough than getting a life partner.

Search for a true friend.

For a person with an innocent heart

Eyes sparkling happiness, Smiling lips and open arms.

Ready to hug me and tell me

You are my friend, stop your search.

I’ll stand by you, no matter what,

Wont leave you ever…..

Till our grave, we are friends!

PS: I felt so good to attach the pic of an Indian boy with a puppy since usual people like to post fair people, but i made a change. The dog really symbolizes the truth of its friendship for mankind.

(Image Courtesy: Child and Puppy “A homeless Indian child plays with a puppy in New Delhi on February 13, 2012.” http://mashable.com/2013/03/23/puppy-love/#o1md5Knk_sq9)

my first attempt……


Yes, its my first attempt in writing a blog. From a long time, this thought has been there in me (in a beep mode). Few friends also motivated me…..There existed a confusion too…which language do i prefer to express: english or malayalam? I use both languages depending on mood. Even now i have that doubt: may be i should try both 🙂 I am not too consistent in writing daily basis. From my childhood, i was more attached to books and had the habit of writing diary. It could be about a book or movie or anything.  But i wasn’t much a complain box to my diaries. There has been few motivations too. One of them was a female character from a malayalam movie “Aranyakam”. Yet i felt i should scribble down my thoughts….. Its late in the evening and all of a sudden i had the spark to start….i got a suggestion when i said that i am thinking of a blog…”don’t let sadness reflect in your writing!”. Its not necessary that i should write only when i am frustrated or reflect my opinion regarding any imbalance i see around me. I am shy/ little afraid too…in writing. Conscious about whether there will be repetition of statements/over explanation of situations, vocabulary etc etc….all the inertia reasons for a beginner blogger…

beginning of my reading….


when i think about my memories on my writing habit..i ask myself one question: when did i start writing? Huh…i don’t remember exactly… may be around my 7th grade…if the writing had began there, then the reading might have started much earlier.Childhood seem to be an art movie for me when i think about it now. No one of my age. I met my cousins once in a while that too during festive or vacations. mom wasn’t too interested to play with me…dad was in far way land….so i was more or less left alone. Hence i was reading and reading the comics which i got as ration on my vacations. TV wasn’t popular and restricted visits to neighborhood to avoid scoldings from granny and mom. Faint memories exist of my repeated pleading to mom to read me stories from the comic books. Read novels from the annual editions of weeklies. I received the audible version of variety of stories especially epics of Indian myths  from grandpa usually on weekends when he was free after the morning breakfast. Granny used to add few stories on ghosts and few ancestors…..
I started my 5th grade in a new school where every Friday we were allowed to get one book. The teacher comes to the class with a bundle of books. My eyes hope for the fat books and fortune usually didn’t favor me. By the time backbenchers’ receive book, the chances to choose the book was fairly any. However, slim or fat, a deep exhalation of satisfaction arrives when i hold the book for the week. My mind already reaches home even before the last bell rings… Ready for another book….I don’t remember what all books i read in my school days. Now i feel i should have kept a record of what all i read. Poetry wasn’t my area. After 7th grade, i got membership at my local library club and read whatever got into my hands especially fictions but all were in my regional language. There was a break in my reading during 10th grade and I wasn’t introduced to english books until my 11th grade.

From 11th grade, a new era began in my reading habit, malayalam (my regional language) books were totally replaced by english. It was totally strange/new to me. I was changed from country side school to a residential modern school. Everything around me changed in matter of days. People, classmates, hostel, studies, language…all seemed different. Hence i had a tough time to get adapted. I wasn’t good in mingling with classmates. Naturally i was pulled to an amazing new world of books. My new school had a library at the top floor, it was the biggest collection of books i had ever seen at that age. I didn’t know where to begin….yet i began  my far awaited journey to a new world…….

a journey begins……..

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