RainDrops

There are some rains that do not belong to the sky alone. They fall inside you, quietly, long after the clouds have left. It was one such afternoon when the sea itself seemed tired of its own noise. The rain had just begun, slow at first, like hesitant thoughts. Arun sat by the window of his rented house in Vypin, a cup of steaming tea beside his laptop, lines of code and test cases staring blankly at him. The wind brought in the smell of the sea and wet earth, that faint scent that always carried a hint of home, of something unfinished. He was in his late forties now, with a streak of grey beginning to show near his temples. Life had moved through its seasons. A long career in tech, the hum of meetings, the quiet company of his child's laughter echoing from another room, the careful plans for tomorrow that always came before sleep. His wife, Anitha, was kind and composed, the sort of woman who believed that life was best lived in quiet balance. They shared the same roof, the sa...

I first saw him at the bend where our quiet lane in Bangalore met the noisy market road. He stood beside a cart with iron wheels, a faded rug thrown over a mound of almonds, raisins, and figs. His beard was peppered with grey. His eyes had that faraway look some people carry, as if a wind from a distant valley still moved inside them. He called out in a slow, careful voice, the words rounded by another language before they turned into ours. Almonds, fresh almonds. Raisins like small suns. He became a small season in our lane. He came when the morning light made stripes through the jacaranda leaves. He came when the evening cooled the dust and children ran with their school bags like impatient birds. He smiled at the old women with oil in their hair, at the security guard who had a cough every winter, at the milkman who never smiled at all. One morning my daughter, Anya, stopped in front of him. She was five, at that age when every day makes a new law for the world. She looked up at ...

Long before dawn the backwaters of  Kuttanad  lie like a sheet of ink beneath a sky still deciding whether to be night or morning. On the verandah of the old Nalukettu house, its laterite walls breathing the night’s final coolness, Devassy Kurian keeps first watch with a brass lamp and an enamel mug of  chukku kaapi . The lamp-flame draws fireflies; the coffee draws memory. His grandson Adithyan will arrive before noon, the first visit home since joining an aeronautics programme in Bengaluru. The boy’s phone calls are full of jet engines and software internships, yet each end with the same Malayalam lullaby Devassy once hummed to him beside a cradle fashioned from a rice-sack and coir rope. The old man whistles the tune now, soft enough not to wake Ammachi inside, and watches the river darken into indigo, then blue. Across the water a country boat appears. Raman the ferryman stands aft, the bamboo poles a metronome against dawn. He nods; no words are needed. The villa...

Time...the only entity of the universe that is constantly changing.  Remember when you were a child, playing in your mother's lap and your father content on seeing the ruckus? You grew up a little further, started going to a school; the first day in the school, when you saw your father leaving you behind in an unknown place, and the fear it created in your small heart. And suddenly the tears started flooding through your tiny eyes, and from nowhere small hands, as small as yours grabbed your shirt. Remember, that was the first friendship you had made in the world you had stepped into? Remember all those joys and jumps on the subsequent days when you met your newly made friend at school like every day? Remember the anxiety and sadness when this friend was absent from the class because of a flue?   You grew up a little further, and you started waiting eagerly for the summer vacations in the school. Remember the long journey in the trains, to meet your grandparents who...

Uhhh...Writing after many days...Went to kerala, for, well....so many things. It's our new home's House warming and by God's grace, my sister also got engaged and both of these important event happened on the same day, one after the other. It was like the House warming ceremony was from 8:30 AM to 9:30 AM and the Engagement ceremony (Ring exchange) was from 9:30 to 10:30 AM. Both of these events happened at the new house, and we arranged a common lunch for the guests for the events... Got lots of gifts (mostly crockeries!) for the House warming; it took me more than 1 hour to unpack all the things... ;-) Here is a photograph of the Sanctum room of the house before the ceremony. It's now full with lots of photos, and hanging lamps which is not shown here... And here is my cousin brother's creativity ....He named the title of the photograph "Aadu thoma" (All mallus invariably knows who this is right? ;-) ) He made me stand like that wearing a Lungi....ughhhh...

Five dreadful days of my life had passed... On Thursday, 5th of February, I got a call from my dad that my Uncle (Ammavan; mom's brother) had met with an accident and he was in a serious condition. I called my native instantly and I think I have lost all my control when I heard the news. Ammavan had an accident in Kuwait, and he passed away on the spot. I couldn't believe what I was hearing in my mobile...I sat down helplessly in the office staircase, weeping heart broken... He was just 43 years old, and is the third in the four children of my grand parents; my mom being the eldest, followed by my first uncle and my Kunjamma (mausi). He have two kids (studying in 7th and 2nd grades!) and his wife had gone just 10 days before to Kuwait from Kerala to meet him. She was there when the accident happened; The accident happened on 4th of Feb, in the evening hours. Just before the accident, she called him and he told that he was very far away from their home, as from their home in Ker...

Ahhhh...Blogging after 3 days. Don't know, didn't had the mood to open up the blog and write on those 3 days. I am more attached to my mother amongst my parents. After all, it's because of her that you get all your traits from...And it's more so in my case. I have a , you can say, sixth sense in this regard when my mom gotta be in trouble. This sense plays on too early to warn me...The first of this sense happened when I was still studying for MCA, and one morning I jumped out of my bed crying...My mom was doing her daily morning chores. She asked me what happened and I couldn't control my emotions and cried like a child. I saw in my dreams that my mother is lying in a hospital bed, with me by her side, crying and holding her hands. Exactly, some months after, my mother caught a severe case of Jaundice and the infection from Jaundice caused Hepatitis, and she was admitted to hospital for some days. And I was sitting the same way I saw in my dreams some months before...