*Karkkidakam the last month of Malayalam Calendar. Karkkidakam; with its torrential rains, is a period of confinement and forced rest. While rain nourishes the tender paddy in the fields, people take care of their houses and themselves. the beginning of Mother Nature's cleaning spree. Karkkidakam is the month of sacred rituals, ancestral worship and healthcare.

.and the rain.. the rain of Krakkidakam.. the rage of Karkkidakam.. Ah!!
ὧ

i saw

Doors vanished,

Shackles withered,

Sky blossomed into the cerulean, I ever loved,

When the dusk-sun shed its last petals on the clouds,

I saw,

the rainbow descending on me.

Heavens bloomed,

Moonlight gushed,

Nightingale sung the song I ever yearned

When the flame shivered in the wind,

I saw,

the clouds climbing down the aisle.

Wind strayed,

Chill thawed,

Trees shivered in the night-rain I ever dreamt

When I held myself to my heart,

I saw,

the stars raining into my eyes.

Birds returned,

Shores slept,

Waves tired in the tide, I ever amazed

When the river slept alone,

I saw,

the waves transforming into golden garlands.

Earth drenched,

Scent rose,

Rain nestled in my eyes, I ever veiled

When a deluge grew within me

I saw,

the ajar doors of heaven above my sky.

Darkness evaporated,

Dreams dissolved,

My upheld palm lost the hold, I ever believed

When the knots released its hug in the back surge,

I saw,

I saw, Me looking at the clouds..

..alone, in the midst of mirages..

. alone!

ổ

BaCk tO tHoSe DaYs..

Back to those days!

Lying on the bare floor, absorbing the chill out of you; staring at the sky, and sipping you with my thirsty eyes; after years and days. Was in bondage and away from you; cried for you; yearned for you, and dreamt of you; many nights; don't know how many times.

Back to those corners, where I rested my head, and sat hugging my knees for long!

Singing to the wind, the songs buried within, sitting on the sill, stretching my weary legs; forgetting the pain that gathered all the way; looking through your eyes, my window you were my friend once and still are; and when you stare into my eyes, I say; 'see the scratches made of my nails!'

Back to those dreams and lone conversations!

Talking to the walls, scribbling on the skin, rubbing it off, smiling and sobbing. Wearing those torn slacks that I treasured, looking at the mirror, saying 'nay'. Hiding in the darkness; falling on the floor, dreaming again; eyes wide open.

Back to those shades, and the cradling breeze!

Sleeping under you, the shade that you spread; the hands that you stretch; leaves of tamarind falling, like the feathers of rain beetle, twisting and turning and dancing in the air. Hugging the heart, closing the eyes and yearning to die under you.

Back to those darkness, where, I left myself incomplete, myself undone!

Swaying in the clouds, dripping with the rain, falling on you, and swimming with my wings. Filling you within; each crumb of you; and when I'm alone again, to look within, and walk. For here, I know I'm for a day and will leave you when the sun falls.

Yet, for a moment, I'm back. I'm back to those moments..

TAG POST: Light an Eye

I often wonder,

What do you see when I say 'Green'?!,

I often cry,

When you say that you saw me in your dream,

Dear,

If I could light those eyes with mine..

Like the candle spreading light in the darkness..

Burning. one after other!

I have been tagged by Cyril Paul. To spread this heavenly message in this beautiful world, and to those who are blessed to see its beauty. Initiative for this was taken by the most admired writer Udita, known as UC in iland.

I know Cyril, I'm late.. was not deliberate.

I was away.. in my land.. in my soil.. in the darkness of my room.. under the raining clouds - after a long time.. Couldn't draw a piece of second.. to spread this heavenly message.. that awakens each of us. That makes us walk ahead of life, crossing the borders of heaven.. That makes us see this beautiful world even after the eternal siesta..

Take it from here.. I tag Jayalakshmi Srinivasan & Dilip Krishnan

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

The original blog by Udita starts here:

What a Wonderful World"

-Louis Armstrong

" I see trees of green, red roses too

I see them bloom for me and you

And I think to myself, what a wonderful world

I see skies of blue and clouds of white

The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night

And I think to myself, what a wonderful world"

The soulful rendering of this song evokes vivid images of a vibrant, colourful world. Ever wondered how a sightless person would react to this song? How would he visualize the host of golden Daffodils, fluttering and dancing in the breeze, flash upon that inward eye, which was the bliss of solitude for Wordsworth?! What a dark, dreary world with everything dyed in monochrome- BLACK !! And yet, those of us who are fortunate enough to be blessed with the miracle of sight, do precious little to restore this gift to our less fortunate brethren, snug in the comfort of our cocooned lives! Here are a few facts about corneal blindness.

FACTSHEET

§ Corneal blindness mostly affects children

§ Corneal blindness can be cured only by corneal grafting from a donated eye

§ One can pledge to donate eyes during one's lifetime

§ Eyes can be donated only after death

§ If not pledged, eye donation can be done with the consent of relatives

§ People of all age groups can donate eyes

§ In India, there is a requirement of about 1 lakh corneas per year, whereas only 30,000 are donated

§ This shortfall can easily be bridged by spreading awareness about eye donation.

HOW WE CAN HELP

Spread the good word around- most of us are not aware how a little effort on our part can light up someone's life! In the unfortunate event of death of an acquaintance, try to persuade the family to donate the eyes. This is the toughest part, considering the sensitivity of the situation, but if the family can be convinced that

§ the eyes of the donor will live on after him,

§ giving sight to two persons for a lifetime, and

§ that the procedure of removal is free of cost, simple, hassle-free, & does not cause any disfigurement to the body,

It is quite likely they would agree. So here's the real test of your persuasive skills! Once you have their consent, here's what you need to do next.

Call the nearest eye bank immediately. For Delhi, dial 1919 ( 24 hr-MTNL Toll-free service). Telephone numbers of eye banks in other cities are available on the website www.lightaneye.org.

§ Switch off all fans in the room- cooler or AC, if available, can run.

§ Wrap some ice cubes in damp cotton, & keep them on the eyes. This prevents the tissue from drying up, & helps keep it fresh.

§ Keep the head slightly raised with a pillow.

§ Doctor/technician from the eye bank will reach the venue within the shortest possible
time, collect about 10 ml blood, and remove the corneas, all in 15minutes.

§ Eyes are fit for retrieval upto 6 hours after death.

Remember, donated corneas are never sold/traded.

The Govt of India is also organizing National Eye Donation Fortnight from August 25 to Sept 8, 2007 to highlight the cause. Friends, where there's a will, there's definitely a way. Come, let us all join hands to eliminate the scourge of corneal blindness from the face of our country, and help everyone relish the rainbow hues that you and I take for granted!

n e v e r m i n d

never been to thy dale,

never knocked thy door,

never paused awhile,

never turned back,

never saw thy world,

never loved those eyes,

never droned a praise,

never read those tales,

never saw those streams,

never looked into it,

never heard thy voice,

never touched thy limbs,

never stood near you,

never said a word,

never slept a wink,

never sung a hymn,

never knelt where you slept,

never kept a flower,

never shed a tear,

never lived the life..

never.. without you..

never..

eh.. never mind

Ῡ

Three lives! Three girls! 
And a mother!

Would Pushpa ever have cursed her daughters in her lifetime?!! Would she ever have looked at heaven; with her pleading eyes when three girls flowered in her womb one after one in a respite of fifteen or eighteen months?! Would she ever have cursed her daughters in her life?!

I have always seen Pushpa with her stooped head; walking through the paved path; where the vine spread their limbs in search of something; like the dreams crawl into the tired head of an ill person; where the tall mango tree stands like a crooked man, lost his growth midway! A mother with all the anxieties of a poor family; a mother of three daughters, grew older day-by-day competing with each other! Kids to girls; girls to adolescents!

Pushpa was dark like charcoal; she smiled like stars in a moonless night! Her eldest and youngest daughters inherited most of her qualities; the innate dark complexion, the starry smile and the long straight hair! They were fairly good in studies! The middle one had neither of these traits; she was more of her father; blessed with short curly hair, comparatively less dark skin! She did not either find pleasure in studies! She helped Pushpa in the household chores, going to the market, fetching milk, washing clothes, unfolding the wrinkles off her sisters' salwars, stretching the starched cotton saree of her mother!

I doubt whether Pushpa ever had struggled to raise her daughters! They raised themselves. After completion of college, Pushpa's eldest daughter found herself a job in a small shop! While coming back from work; she brought sweets for her sisters. She earned an amount enough for their day-to-day life! And at times, during festivals; they stitched new glittering clothing for all the three growing girls! The youngest one imparted tuitions to the neighbors' children after school hours. The middle one fetched milk, cleaned home, cooked food and dreamt sitting in front of open books when her sisters studied in the dawns and at dusks! She filled the space of a son in that family; they looked at her for anything; that a sister would expect from brother; that a mother would expect from a son! She was contented with her life; so were the other three; her two sisters and Pushpa!

Or were they?!!

Till the dusk Pushpa came back home with her eldest daughter from the diagnostic center of the Railway hospital. She did not sleep that night, nor cried! She lay down on the mat like a dead dog; like a stray dog killed by a heavy mad truck! Her eyes were open; without even a blink; she did not eat anything that night! Her eyes were sunk in a dark depth! Her lips kept open! Girls sat beside their mother; the youngest girl and the middle one kept on shaking her and calling with panic eyes! Her body moved in the jerk; but her inner self was still! The eldest one kept silent; she did not either touch her mother or call her! She breathed without disturbing the air around her! Her eyes were struck on Pushpa's eyes! Somewhere in the depth of that night, three lives floated in the shallow darkness of sleep; with Pushpa; embracing her! Pushpa did not move till the last hours of the night; till the goods train howled from the level cross; the train that shuttles to the ancient goods station near the railway colony! Pushpa woke up like a huge fish rose from an ocean of nightmares! She walked out to the balcony without making her daughters awake; stood at the small balcony staring at the slow moving goods train; listening to the lament of the railway tracks! Night was darker than ever; clouds veiled the crescent moon with their dark palms!

Pushpa did not move; even when four frozen fingers touched her bare shoulders. She did not turn around! She knew; it is no one else its her eldest daughter. She looked at her mother's eyes; which were lost somewhere in the depths of the night sky! A feeble voice spread in the air;

Amma..

Amma, what did the doctor say?! Am I alright Amma?!!

Pushpa tore the eyes from the sky and looked at her daughter; a stare that never emerged from those eyes in that lifetime! Pushpa embraced her tightly, kissed her on her cheek, on her neck, on her hair and on her forehead! A crow that lost its sleep flew over the terrace! The shadow of the mango tree moved slightly, clouds veiled the moon fully; shadows dissolved in the darkness! Pushpa made her sit on the floor! She held the long hair of her daughter in her hand and kissed it again; she did not look at the eyes of her daughter, she ran her hand through the long hair and whispered;

You'll lose this hair! That's what doctor said!

Two eyes with fearful questions searched for some strange answers in the darkness!

'But it will grow again; doctor promised me'! Pushpa continued!

'They will start the medication next week; we'll go to the regional hospital of the railway early morning next Sunday! They will start with a treatment called 'chemotherapy'. That's what the doctor said!' Pushpa's head bent down!

"That's what the doctor said..!"

The breath that created waves in the air that hung just opposite Pushpa's face stopped for a while; then continued again in a different pace! The crow once again passed through the terrace and sat on the branch of the mango tree; a tender mango leaf tore at the touch of its nail and flew like a feather and fell on the soil! Those were the last moments of a long night! And the beginning a new dawn!

When light of the dawn peeped from the dark east sky; two pairs of open eyes were resting on the peaks of cloud mounts! This darkness will fade in moment; light is just across those clouds; Pushpa thought! She never knew that this night would repeat in her life! That night borne again! On the last day of her eldest daughter's chemotherapy cure, Pushpa took along her youngest daughter to the railway diagnostic wing! She did not forget about the secret that her youngest daughter shared with embarrassment a week ago! Pushpa's eyes were firm; they were building a wall to stop the flood that might break out any time!

The curly haired middle girl waited in the balcony till Pushpa came back home with the hairless elder sister and longhaired younger sister! Hairless sister lay down on the bed; the hit of chemotherapy made her fall on any thing that seemed as a support! Tired eyes; weary steps! Pushpa did not say anything; nor her little sister! Pushpa went into the kitchen and started cleaning the vessels; those have been already cleaned by herself in the morning, before leaving to the hospital! She threw away the food preserved in the vessels and started cooking again; the middle girl stood at the door of the kitchen looking at her mother! She feared to ask anything! Her elder sister is asleep; and the younger one is sitting near her on the bed; eyes are lost somewhere!

Night fell on earth in a spell; the same night that once left a never-ending darkness in those four hearts. Pushpa slept with the youngest girl that night; she held her hands together towards the wooden stand fixed on the wall where the idol of Lord Shiva was kept; where the ashes of the incense fell! Her eyes were open; tired dried eyes! She saw a shadow standing at the open window; the shadow that bore a hairless head; the shadow of her eldest daughter! Pushpa woke up from the bed and turned towards the window! A small hand dragged her backward - the young girl who slept with her! Pushpa realized; she was not sleeping! She pulled Pushpa towards her and looked at her eyes! She struggled to whisper something to her mother's ears; but the broken word crushed the air with its edges;

'Amma, will I too become bald like Chechy?'

Pushpa stood in the darkness like a mount of ice; a charcoal coloured iceberg! The hairless shadow at the window turned in a split moment with startled eyes; she moved towards Pushpa and her youngest sister! She looked at Pushpa's cold face! Pushpa fell on the floor like a packed sack! The hairless shadow sat near her sister and kissed on her forehead! Her eyes shone in the tiny particles of light spread in those air; at last the glitter in her eyes flowed through the dark cheek and hung on the jaws; like the last drops of a night rain!

'But it will grow again!'

'It will grow again dear!' The hairless shadow whispered!

There in the darkness, two eyes slept without knowing the world around her; the tempest forming around her! Her curly hair shivered in the gentle breeze gushed in through the window!

When that night grew to another dawn, three pairs of eyes stood at the balcony looking at the shuttling of the howling goods train; listening to the lament of the railway tracks! The mango tree stood still in the darkness; like a deserted island in a pitch-black ocean! The sleepless crow flew eastward whispering something! Three breathing shadows stood like pieces of dark clouds fell from the night sky; their hearts beat in the same rhythm, their lungs moved at the same pace; their eyes blinked at the same moment;

.. and their hearts were murmuring the same prayer;

.. prayer for a girl;

.. a girl with short and curly hair!!

ὸoό

...to die before You!!

Nila.. A rich and splendid river that has eventually shrunken into a trickle! She's a mother.. Mother of a civilization, a language, innumerable poets, myriad writers, divine arts, sages.. and mother of these emotions dripping out of my soul!

Mindless sand mining combined with a whole bunch of other anti-ecological activities have transformed Nila into a desert. The river fills up to the banks only in monsoon when rainwater gushes down at its fullest swing.

The legendary river that adjoins the railway line stretches from Palakkad Station to Thirunavaya! The shores; where myriad folklores sleep. When the train crosses Nila during our visits to papa's home, I look at her with a thirst inside! I crane my neck and look at her till the last glimpse of her; wilting away from my sight! Its my dream to make a small hut in her shores; to live with her.. embracing those sands.. and at last.. to die at those shores!

O Mother, I have come!

In this midnight, in this darkness.

At your shores with a dream that woke me up,

The dream that left me midway.. unfinished!

Running through these cracked paths,

Where the creepers died; starving for you,

Where the moon held its blue lantern to guide my eyes,

Abandoning the sleep, and a beautiful dream,

And at last when I fall on your lap...

O Mother River, I have come!

Enfolding you in my arms, to my heart beats. and to me,

Buried myself in these pallid sands;

In these golden grains of your heart..

That's outstretched to cuddle your children!

As your thirst spread like memories in my head,

As these lifeless pebbles spread freeze on my nerves,

As the moon rain like blue quills on these shores,

O Mother River, I have come!

On the black boat; tethered on the dead cane,

Where my dreams lay,

Locking hands on back of the head,

Anchoring eyes at the stars,

The boat that lost its wings,

Buried in the sand;

Cherishing the dance of the waves once crossed,

Dreaming the whirls once sunk in,

To gain those wings back; and to dream it again,

O Mother River, I have come!

As the heart melt and flow out of my eyes!

To fill you oh, dried river,

Oh, my mother, my dream, oh my life!

To see you full, to see you flowing;

To see you rich, in the beauty that once enthralled my heart;

My brain, my dreams and my soul!

Countless dreams, those weaved,

In the blue night,

And in the golden sunshine!

Straying in these shores; to gather the past,

O Mother River, I have come!

Back to you oh my Mother River..

To see your anger in the monsoon,

To see you spreading wide,

To see you shimmering in the summer,

To see you dancing,

Reaching out your hands

Hugging the shores, hugging the dried land,

Hugging my soul; pervading the precincts!

To dip in you; as the crimson Sun at the west,

O Mother River, I have come!

That night when you carried this giant dead tree;

Pulling it off from its soil,

Far away, sometime when the rain set war with the soil!

Now, resting on your shore,

Skin withered, the core molded at your pats, your touch!

The wooden flesh shimmering at the sun,

Smooth like a pebble,

And his pledge to be your companion ever!

(Does he believe that you will never get your wings back to flow again?!)

To see you cradling the nameless tree,

O Mother River, I have come!

Poets born on your lap,

Fed them the breast of love; filled their imagination,

Gave them dreams; those grazed in these shores!

They dreamt at your lap; floating in the paddle of your lullaby,

Feelings transformed into words;

Carved in the pages of history,

Legends born,

Passion rained in the heart of arts,

How many poems? How many stories?

How many legends; Oh Mother, at your shores?

At last at this sunset; when they create requiem for you,

To cry for you, to kiss your forehead,

O Mother River, I have come!

The splendid river,

At last when you shrunk into these tear brooks,

When you smile at your children;

The selfish children who mined out the heart of you, Mother,

To build their palace,

To bury you in this deep depth of this earth,

When you absorb the beauty of the moon in this night,

And as she mirror in these thousands pools scattered in this sand,

I can feel the pain of your silent yearning to be together and to flow;

Once again in your life!

To die before you mother,

O Mother River, I have come!

Tomorrow, you will be just another piece of land,

A graveyard of memories; graveyard of a lifetime!

The land will win over you; this malice will win over you!

You will fade off; and will remain only in the memories of these dead children,

No one will believe that a splendid river flowed through this land once;

No one will believe;

That there is a river buried in this land;

That a river is sleeping her eternal sleep under these sands,

No one will believe that there is river's heart beating-

Beneath these lands!

O Mother.

To die before you,

O Mother River, I have come;

O Mother..!!

____________________________________________________________________________

"I feel one of my filial bonds is about to be cruelly snapped. The village is losing a colorful historical past, a nostalgic glory and a cultural legacy. Yes, we have lost all of them, almost."

- M T Vasudevan Nair

Books,

Pen,

Calculator,

Logarithm Tables,

My Naughty Guruvauyrappan,

A pinch of sacred ash, sandal paste, vermilion,

The black small radio,

My window and

the breeze!

My study-leave days at the small lone blue house at the banks of the green paddy and the gently flowing Chithrapuzha were largely stolen by the breeze flowed into my room; through the ever-open window and the reflection of paradise; a breath away from my eyes! I gazed through the window; day and night; to absorb the sun slowly spreading its wings. I kept my heart open; to melt into the green to quench the thirst of my eyes. I waited at my windowsill; to ask the breeze - where was she coming from; to open the closed doors of my heart; and to fill it with the chill of an unseen world - to fill my heart with dreams!

Dawns, dusks, sun, shadows, lamp-lit twilights - the timid flame, twilight-naamas with mom - the closed eyes - the buoyant mind, listening to Girija and her inspiring literature on my small radio and the dreams; efforts to write like her (ha; madness)! Late night studies, hovering around mom's bed, scribbling thoughts, again back to the window, throwing eyes at the beautiful sky - the red sky, the blue sky, the black sky, the smiling sky, the happy sky, the angry sky; the layers of clouds and the 'peeping silver glow' birth of another dawn! And somewhere between dreams and veracity; somewhere between the mind-numbing Laws, rejuvenating Accounting and satisfying Costing; somewhere between the night and dawn, when eyelid fall on the other; when my books yawn, I make bed for them to sleep; kissing the bookmark bearing faces of gracious 'Swamy Ayyappan' and my naughty 'Unnikannan'! When the dawn knocks at my closed eyes; I wake up; with a gleam in my eyes and a song on my lips!

Those days made me wander with books in my hand; sometimes in the lounge of the small house and sometimes in the yard; where mom's kitchen vegetation grew for our daily food! I studied while talking to birds, listening to them, singing to the cuckoo; (and the surrender to her 'I can't sing like you' lot more to study ..eh!!), chasing the butterflies, swaying in the swing; and chatting with mom - 'the never asked questions'! And her irritation 'when study-leave comes he has a sack full of questions about the world?!' 'Oh sorry amma this is the time I see myself. I see the nature around me; this is the time I see these bids. this is the time I talk to them.. and this is the time I spend with your growing vegetable plantlets and creepers... say amma..why is it so'?!

My eyes were always open during those days. and my heart too! I seldom slept.. but dreamt a lot (as always)! While digging through the pages of heavy books that carried the smell of freshness, sleep flew away from my eyes! Oh past, (I love you) you gave me a sea full of wisdom and experience and.. a heaven full of memories; that I will never able to gather from any of my sedative books. I lived my life to the full during those days! At last, when the exams came, my panic eyes, touching mom's feet and praying looking at her eyes! Oh God, you gave me courage and backing with all that I learned during those days. Nature. and my friends who sung for me sitting on the 'Mahagony' branch, the little lambs strayed in the paddy, the quack-quacking ducks marched along Chithrapuzha; all gave me support to face all those impossible exams! When my hands shivered at the hold of pen on the paper sitting in the examination hall, a breeze gently flew touching my ears, eyes, hair and my heart; taking away the drops of sweat those formed on my forehead and my brain!

Exams are over! Have to leave the small blue house! Never had this day; even in my nightmares! I couldn't sleep that night; neither mom could! She knew that I was going to miss everything from the next dawn! She cuddled me; I could hear her sobbing! She's sobbing for me! She's praying for me! For my madness, for my sentiments! She's crying for a boy who gives his heart away to anything that he comes across! She's crying for her son - her mad son!

When mom locked the door of the blue house next evening, I stood with a heavy frozen mind; carrying my books and all its friends - pen, calculator, Logarithm Tables, my naughty Guruvauyrappan, the sacred ash, sandal paste, vermilion and the black small radio. I forgot about the breeze, the ducks, the birds, Chithrapuzha and the crying paddy! I forgot that there was a question remained unasked somewhere in the depths my heart; to the breeze! Mom did not either remind me about it! She believed; that her son would come back someday; to squeal at the east-sky; to yell at the paddy; and to scream at the chilled breeze that I'm back!!