The ’30 under 30′ list!

At one point or the other, do we not all want to be in some kind of list? List of students who move on to the next class in school. List of students who got into the prestigious college. List of people who can buy land in Mars. List of people who survived an accident. List of people who would make it through one more day. Endless lists of endless things. Endless feats. 30 under 30, 40 under 40, 50 under 50… but why? Lists give you a sense of accomplishment. Ticking every item, striking off each accomplishment – a list is a definitive way of measuring success at a personal level. Impersonal lists may or may not be definitive, but they still are a means to see how far you have reached.

Sometimes I wonder how cool would it be to be actually featured in some ’20 under 20′ or ’30 under 30′ list. It would feel super amazing I suppose. 20 under 20 is gone and 30 under 30 is also slowly slipping away. Never mind though. 40s and 50s are right there intact. Okay, now it sounds very weird. It’s almost like I believe there has been any such actual accomplishment in life. To clear things up, that wasn’t quite the intention of this intro. I am only trying to put my thoughts about lists and their relevance in our lives.

You and I – we all have lists. From grocery to daily to-dos – the list of lists is endless. Do you often wonder how these lists take control of our lives? Marking things on it and striking them off are so satisfying, aren’t they? The feeling of accomplishment of something. And it is all that we all live for. Some mental lists, some paper lists, some unwritten lists – reminders on the things to chase for. It is fascinating how aimless one feels without a list of action items. What happens to free will and thinking on the feet? Oh well, they do exist. But almost always enveloped by a big picture of some bucket list or to- do.

There were times in life when I had more than 3 to-do planners. With groups and folders and RAG status and what not. I still have some of those kind. But all of them are for work. I’m too scared to keep one for myself these days. It just feels like a blaring proclamation of my failure to strike things off them. Or some such weird thought. And lost in that fear and uncertainty, I guess I’m just missing out on some really fulfilling moment of life. Exactly like so many other moments in life.

P. S. This is a writing I’ve been working on for some months now. With many interruptions and excuses, I managed to delay this forever to be published. Ironically, this one strikes one thing off my ‘not-written- down’ list – write away with an endless expanse of ocean outside the window! Last word written exactly in time before my last day with this view – oddly satisfying!

The Tamarind Shade

‘This is the last batch from here’, said father, tossing in the final jackfruit into the trunk. Inching to probe why, I retracted my words as an afterthought. It’d only pave way to another round of blaming. How much I don’t care about the construction, how I’m not paying attention to its details and on and on it’d go. Why else would I not remember that the jackfruit tree is going down to make room for the Vaastu appropriate kitchen! Sigh!

Decades later, that scene still stays fresh in memory. The chopping down of the tree, starting of the construction – I wasn’t there for any of it. It was only way after the completion of the house did I even come back home. But for some unknown reason, that random conversation and a vague memory of the ‘plot’ linger.

Sitting down in this tamarind’s shade, I feel connected to this strange land and place. Like it was never so strange or unbeknownst. Life has always been full of gratitude for me. Many things to be grateful for and many people to thank. Appumash tops my list of people to be grateful to. Ironic enough, I’d perhaps never thank him for I’ve never really known or met him. A wandering soul in an ottamundu ( ‘a slightly dignified version of a loincloth) that I spot once in a while in the neighborhood. That’s all I knew of the man. But as I learnt that he is the one throwing tantrums and standing against the slaying of my tamarind shade, there grew a new sense of kinship with the nameless soul. And I learnt he has a name – Appumash – as a memory to be grateful for, forever.

After all, it is just a tamarind tree, isn’t it? What’s there to be grateful for a tree? One could say nature’s balance, sustainability and global warming or whatsoever. But it’d be far from the truth. I do not possess such great visions for the future of the world or concern for our existence. Neither would Appu mash have them, I presume.

A companion in my solitary afternoons. The majestic branches arching over the house as a shade. And the fond memory of mother cribbing about the fallen
leaves that ruin the yard. And father dividing and distributing ripe tamarinds to everyone who pass by. That is what the tamarind holds for me. An image of my past, a shoulder in the present and a hope for the future.

But is it also the darkness that takes away our share of the sun and the moon? Does it not appear as haunting hands through the windows? One could view it, in all its vicious and dark shades. But to my eyes, it is a magnanimous tree in the brightest phase of my life, being my shade and shelter.

After every withering autumn, I wonder if it’d ever turn green again. With its luscious green, isn’t it protecting my soul more than what I could ever do to save its existence? Somewhere then, a tree becomes more than just the shade as it embraces you and holds you tight to its roots.

To New Beginnings!

These days have been about masks and PPEs. All in an attempt to protect ourselves from an unknown (do we know it yet, really?) enemy. The way I see it, what came in handy with these masks is the fall of facades. There’s no compulsion to smile broadly, or acknowledge an acquaintance. Not even an attempt to hide a frown. The mask does it all for you. The ease of covering up all that you feel or forced to express. Does sound like a blessing in disguise, doesn’t it?


The above is a write-up from a while ago when Covid-19 was still ‘news’. Somehow, I was convinced to find a silver-lining even in those dark times (maybe not entirely silver – let’s settle with bronze!). Over the past few months, however, the wave of optimism died a slow painful death. Work was growing beyond acceptable limits, friends grew further away with almost no see and less talk – life was stalling in short. When all else fails, you turn to family. But for me, that also failed when they threw my fancy dinner suggestion out of the window. So yeah, New Year’s Eve is a complete flop. Rather, it almost was. And suddenly, it rained! And in that instant, everything changed for me. The drizzle, the fragrance of the earth and the gentle breeze! New year is always new hope, no matter how clichéd it may sound. Happy New Year! To new beginnings!

The transience of time,
The newness of each moment,
The lingering hope of each dream,
And a will to chase them all.
That’s what I wish for the year,
For you, for me, forever.

Stolen!

മഴ

രാവിന്റെ നെറുകയിൽ

ചുടുനീർത്തുള്ളിയായി

നോവിന്റെ ആലയിൽ

ദാഹത്തിൻ ലഹരിയായി

കനവിന്റെ പൊയ്കയിൽ

വിരഹത്തിൻ തേങ്ങലായി

എൻ ഹൃദയത്തിൽ പെയ്യുന്നു

എന്നുമീ മഴ

A Call of Longing

Far I stood , away from the waves,

Close to the shore, teasing the sea.

Was it the fear for the ocean,

Or was it the test of the waves.

Away I walked, without a wait,

Without a thought, without a turn.

Was it the longing to be stopped,

Was it an attempt to stop the lone tear.

The waves caressed my feet,

And the wait for your call never ceased.

The Music in Life

Classical music is something very close to my heart. Neither am I a singer nor can I even actually enjoy it. But it is a very nostalgic thing to me. It reminds me of the ‘horrific’ music classes I was forced to attend, the ‘rich’ family where most relatives have got something to do with music and all those dreadful Navaratri days when I was forced to sing at random homes. Most of my painful associations with music came to a stop ever since I passed on the baton to my sister. The only difference perhaps is that she actually sings. There was a time in life where I was very choosy about the genres of music. Over time, I’ve begun to realize music is all that matters, no matter the genre. I now listen to very random tunes and enjoy the presence of music in life. I’m no longer searching for the music of my life, but merely bobbing my head and tapping my toes to every tune that flows by. Life is so beautiful when you discover the music in it. Wavy and fluid.

Time-worthy-time!

My dad is a typical average earning Indian. Not too much but just enough, is his shopping slogan! Of most things I am intrigued about him, his where-does-each-penny-go is the one that draws me more! Everytime I ask for something, he gets it for me, but only after his tiring set of tests. First question, “Unakkithu venama ippo?” (Do you actually want this now?). “Enna vilai? Ivvalavu aavuma? Innam rendu kadayila kettu pakkalaame!” (Does it really cost so much? Why don’t we just ask around a few more shops!) That’s pretty much all you need! The question keeps echoing, ‘Do I need this now?’. And if for the nth time, if the answer is still yes, yes, I am getting it from him! He never forgets to add, “Nyayamana karyam naan orikkalum venda chollamtten.” ( I never say no to your fair demands!) And that, to this day, he sticks to his word! The only thing he rejected outright was pizza, which, however, he accepted in a later period of time! The value for money, the need for self evaluation before throwing your wallet across the counter and the judgment of product utility – they are all things he taught me, without his own knowledge. Last week I go home to see this thing, hanging on the wall in our hall! The old rickety clock looked odd there, but I loved the tick-tick and the ding-dong! So I casually asked dad how much did it cost him. He said 1.5k. Silence. I didn’t ask anything more. The more I contemplated on it, the more interesting and funny it seemed! My count-every-penny dad bought this clock! I kept staring at it. Dad somehow felt the scope of an explanation, and he did. “I know its expensive.But it was just a craze to me, to own a mechanical clock”. He started explaining how it needs to be wound only once a week, and how the ding-dong startles him in the middle of the night and on and on. I though of mentioning the mechanical wrist watch we gifted him, but later thought otherwise. It was a man’s passion. To own a piece of elegant excellence, from his earlier life and past. I just had to smile! 🙂 Only to irritate him, I said how nice would it be for me to realise my passion too, by holding a 40k phone, despite the ‘expense’! And right came the response. A more advanced 45k thing would be out on the market, the moment I buy the 40k product. Things keep changing, improving upon their own predecessors. But nothing is ever gonna improve and replace the mechanical ding-dong wall clock. Somethings acquire worth, just be their being, from the past, thru the present, into the future. Beyond the transience of times, beyond the worth of time itself!

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Athenna?

Athenna appidi? (Why’s that so?) That’s the most repeated response I have ever made in my life. To everything. To everybody. I have always demanded reasons and explanations. For I believed, and still believe that everything out there, happens for a reason and each by itself is a cause for something else. So what’s it there? Spirituality or rationalism? Whatever you see, I, for once, believe its a mix of both. A splendid proportion of two paths, leading to the ultimate. I am often avoided for my ‘crude’ attitude, often ’embraced’ for my ‘cool’ logic, and often pulled into a never ending debate on the duality of my thoughts!

A child asks you ‘why?’ and you answer. As long as its not about ‘taboo’ topics like …the list depends on your attitide. For every other question a child throws at you, it’s always a pleasure, playing around, mimicking accents, building stiries, and all the more, clarifying doubts and explaining the ‘why?s’.

Mammam saapidu. (Eat your food.)
Athenna? ( Why’s that?)
Illatta sakthi kedakkathu. ( You won’t be strong otherwise.)
Athenna?
Perisaava maattay. (You won’t grow up.)
Athenna?

What do you answer beyond this? What I can possibly think of is, hug the kid and laugh your mind out. Coz there ain’t a further explanation you can offer. Nothing would ever satisfy the child’s mind, for its so filled with curiosity, or as we call it, innocence. But as the child grows up, we’d want it to shed the cover of innocence, but not the edge of curiosity. It’s obvious of us to expect things to change. But at the same point, isn’t it slightly ridiculous too? Why is a kid’s questions welcome here but not a grown ups? The response I got in my usual pre-blog discussion, was that there’s no innocence in a grown up’s curiosity and that, its rather inquisitiveness!

I can’t draw my lines together here, and conclude. I guess I am more of a kid when it comes to curiosity and ‘athenna?’ attitude. But I also assume that I am enough grown up, to distinguish between being ‘inquisitive’ and being ‘curious’. So what’s the whole deal here? Should you rather shove up your questions and reasoning somewhere deep within, in the process of building up a social rapport? Or rather not.

The past week at home, my dad was continuously pinning me down with the same ‘athenna?’ questions. And for a long time, I was wondering what went wrong. And slowly, I forgot about it. But later, I caught him explaining it to my sister.It seems he was just throwing it back at me; the way I used to get on his nerves by my rationalism! That gave me a good laugh indeed. Coz, surprisingly his attitude pleased me all the more, than the annoyance he assumed!

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Back to my haven!

No brilliant stories to write. No great sagas to sing. A dear diary day actually. Calm. Pleasant. And all the more satisfying.Back to the land of my freedom, soaring high into the secrets of the sky above, and the depths of the land beneath, and the infinite waves of the loving sea. I am all happy and excited about today and the days to come. A refreshing welcome, back to the land of my dreams, my passion, and now my college!

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Liberation!

I sense liberation. I know what being liberated means. Or so I believe. I am counting my days. Into liberty. And out of it. It’s like I am in some cycle, running through different stages of liberation. One moment, I feel on top of the world, having ultimate control over everything in my life. Its that moment where I care enough to look around and acknowledge the infinite wonders around me, and find myself dignified. And the next moment, I feel chained. An invisible leash around me, and hardly can I move. It’s like I am tied to a pole, and the radius is all I have to myself. It’s really stupid to shuttle between all these emotions, and still not choose one. Like I am not yet free to decide where I want the rest of my life to be. Ah come on! What liberation was I talking about then!

This is a real trivial transition. From college to home. And I already feel choked. I can’t wait to go back out there and start breathing. And be liberated. Return my wings to me, my old wing workshop! I so much want them, to soar into the infinite world! Broken leash, and a waking dream, herald my indomitable spirit. To fly higher, fall deeper, talk louder, hear clearer, live liberated!

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