RainDrops

In the serene village of Karithodi , nestled along the winding backwaters and shaded by swaying coconut trees, life moved at a gentle pace. The villagers in Karithodi knew one another well, and news -whether good, bad, or absurd - traveled quickly. Karithodi was a lush place with canals cutting through its landscape, lined with houseboats and traditional wooden houses painted in bright blues and greens. Fishermen could be seen rowing their narrow canoes at dawn, and the scent of blooming water lilies filled the air. But this morning, an unusual scandal was brewing. Mr. Raghavan, the village barber, opened his tiny shop at the usual time. It was a charming setup on the edge of the canal, with a faded red-and-white barber pole, an old mirror, and a couple of well-worn chairs. Mr. Raghavan, a man of about sixty-five, sported a mustache that was the pride of Karithodi. Thick, dark, and meticulously groomed, the townsfolk often joked that if you were to find Raghavan’s shop closed, just loo

In the heat of the summer, when the earth seemed to breathe a collective sigh, Radhika found herself standing in the attic of her grandmother's ancestral home in the small village of Haripad. The house, a crumbling relic of the Travancore architecture, had always been a place of mystery, with its faded wooden floors and peeling walls. It was as though the house itself was a museum of forgotten years, with every object in it holding a story no one dared to tell. Radhika, however, had always been fascinated by those untold stories. Now, at twenty-eight, after years of living in the bustling chaos of Bangalore, she had returned to the house, seeking answers, seeking... something. She didn’t know what. But she felt it, like a whisper in her bones—something pulling her back to this place, to this family, to the legacy that felt incomplete. Her grandmother, whom she called Muthassi , was old. Old in a way that felt eternal, as if she had always existed, perched in her corner of the house

       'Oh God No!!! Not me please. What did I do to deserve this? What misery!". Twenty year old Leah thought for herself. She took a small sharp edged wood splinter hidden under her louse ridden blanket and pierced her long scaly finger. Nothing came out at her first and second try, and then she tried harder. This time a tiny amount of blood oozed out of her finger. She pressed her finger harder so the blood could come out in a gush. She applied the blood in her lips and her bonny face, so it look lovely and fresh. The German soldier barked out at the inmates, "Any one here sick? Any dead bodies?". No one moved. The soldier came to everyone's sleeping barracks, looked at the haggard faces and picked up a few of them who looked particularly ill. He reached Leah's bed, glanced towards her once, and moved on to other beds. The chosen ones are marched outside the barracks, and then no one heard of them ever.       The year was 1937. The 15 year old Leah, with h

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 were

“Edi Farzaane... Farzu...”,  Veetile akathathe muriyil ninnu gyan avale vilichu.  “Dha varunnu... Entha pattiye? Enthina ingane kidanu kaarunne? Joli edukyyaanum samathikkila alle. Manushyanu nooru kootam joli kidakumbola...“  “Ediye, Swathi kku samayam vannu. Manu achan aakaan pokukaya...”  "Haaainnn!!! Atheyo. Avarude kalyanam kazhingitu ippo 2 maasam alle aayulu?” “Hmmm... Ethayalum nanaayi. Avar engilum oru kunji kaalu kaanate. Nammal ivide ethra kollam kondu kaathu irikkunu. Orennam undaaytho, athum...” Farzaanayude mukham valaandaayi. Kunju undakathathu ippo nammude kuttama? Oru kunji kaalu kaanaan agrahikaangitaano? Ellam rabinte oro vikrithilal... Aval ente aduthu vannu irrunu. Ente mukathu randu kayyum vechu kondu parangu, “Athinu ikka enthina vishamikunathu. Ellam daivam nalathinu vendi alle chaiyunathu ennu ikka thanne alle parayunne. Ithum nalathinu thanne aayirikum. Kootukarante vetil kunji kaalukal odi nadakaan pokunathu orkaan thanne enthu chell alle?” "Shari

"You see the aunt there, she is my second maasi (Mom's Sister). She has a kid, now in 8th grade." She told pointing to a woman in the group of people standing.  "Wow! she looks too young da.". He replied, looking at her Aunt.  "Yeah, she is just 32. She married at the age of 23".  "Well, 23 is not a bad age for marriage, no?" He said with a twinkle in his eyes. "You are also 23 now gorgeous".  "Ha ha...Yeah! Well, can we get married...say Now?" "Yeah, why not...So we shall go to the church first, since you are a Christian...It doesn't matter much, but still the lady beau is preferred first...right?" "Hmmm...Chalo then, we will go to the church first".  And together they went to the church near by, hand in hand.  "I want to see you in the white bridal dress... Please... you will look gorgeous in this" "Hmm... let me see...Ok wait here, I will wear this and come"  And ther

This was the year when I had seen the US land, a second time. I came back to Bangalore after a while, went to Jaipur to my parents and came back again to Bangalore. By now, I had a severe urge to go to Kerala, and to see my grand parents and other relatives. So I packed my bag as soon as I got an opportunity to go to Kerala. It had always been an exiting affair for me to go to Kerala (yeah, except only one time at the time of demise of my uncle). There's a train or buses always running to and fro from Kerala to Bangalore; Only during seasonal times (times of festivities like the Onam or X'mas) you won't get any tickets even 2 months before. Anyways, I had the train ticket this time, and I started on a Thursday evening after the office hours. The roads at the BTM Layout were as usual, full of their crowds; bystanders, vehicles, two-wheelers rattling against each other. I put my backpack on my shoulders, as if a kid is going to a school, and started walking to the BTM Bus sta