tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38341305566816119302024-03-12T20:03:05.583-07:00Kulukkallur FamilyMadhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07462059528207003967noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-70435796078981153902022-04-28T09:30:00.001-07:002022-04-28T17:54:22.962-07:00Turn Off!<p> The park was not too crowded today. Just some seniors and a few people walking their dogs. Anita sighed and sluggishly plugged in her earphones. She started playing her usual playlist and began jogging, cursing Nita under her breath. Nita, her roommate had signed her up for a trek the next month. It was mandatory that she run at least 3 to 4 kilometers everyday to build stamina. She detested exercise in any form.
</p><p>As she jogged, panting and puffing, she shifted her focus to the people around. A south Indian uncle brisk walking in his mundu, a harried woman running behind her son riding his bicycle too fast…and just like that, out of nowhere he cut across her path and started jogging ahead.
</p><p>Tall, dark, strong built and good shoes. Shoes were important, somehow. Strong calf muscles, she thought to herself. She was sure she couldn’t catch up with him, so she decided to turn around and run the other way hoping bump into him, and get a glimpse of what he looked like upfront. Part out of curiosity, part for SOME entertainment while she endured this torture of running every day.
</p><p>Rugged face, sharp features, kind eyes and a slight stubble. Impressive!
</p><p>The next morning, getting up early and getting dressed didn’t seem so tedious anymore. Did he throw a casual glance at her today? Did she sense the slight curve of a smile playing on his lips the other day? </p><p>Colors looked brighter, people happier….the wonders hormones could do!!
</p><p>It felt good! She often smiled to herself while at work. Hummed a happy song sometimes. There was a skip in her step. She took extra care getting dressed each morning. A little make up. Not too much, though. She didn’t miss a day of jogging at the park since then.
</p><p>One Monday morning, she didn’t see him jogging. Her face fell, disappointed. She jogged around the park, but he was nowhere to be seen! Just as she was about to turn back, there he was, sitting on a bench not too far away. Her heart did a double flip! He was with someone, in deep conversation. And as she watched, he slowly unzipped his blue backpack, unwrapped an energy bar he extracted from within, gingerly tucked it into his mouth, and threw the wrapper on the floor.
</p><p>Anita turned around, and ran the other way. The next day onwards, she jogged at a park a couple of kilometers away from this one.
</p><p><br /></p><p>
</p>Thulasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09472622809149854200noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-7370036781939751932022-04-28T09:22:00.001-07:002022-04-28T09:22:05.983-07:00അവളും അവനും<p> ഉച്ച ഭക്ഷണം കഴിഞ്ഞു തിരിച്ചു സീറ്റിൽ വന്നപ്പോഴാണ് അവൾ അവനെ കണ്ടത്. ആഴ്ചയിൽ ഒരു തവണയേ വരാറുള്ളുവെങ്കിലും അവൻ വരുന്നത് അവൾ കാത്തിരിക്കാറുണ്ടായിരുന്നു. ബാങ്കിലെ മറ്റു തിരക്കുകൾക്കിടയിൽ അവൻ വരുന്ന് ദിവസമാണ് എന്ന് അവൾ മറന്നിരുന്നു. അത് കൊണ്ട് തന്നെ അവനെ കണ്ടപ്പോൾ അതിന്റെ യാദൃശ്ചികതയിലും കൗതുകത്തിലും ഒരു നിമിഷം അവൾ മുഴുകിയിരുന്നു. അതിന്റെ ഒരു ചെറിയ പുഞ്ചിരി അവളുടെ മുഖത്ത് പടരുകയും ചെയ്തു. ആ ദിവസത്തിനെന്തോ ഒരു ഉന്മേഷം കൂടിയത് പോലെ.</p><p>---------------</p><p>ജെയിംസ് സ്കൂളിൽ നിന്ന് മക്കളെയും കൂട്ടി വീട്ടിലെത്തി. നാല് മാണി കഴിഞ്ഞതേയുള്ളൂ. നേരത്തെ വീട്ടിലെത്താൻ പറ്റുമ്പോൾ ദിവസത്തിന് ദൈർഘ്യം വളരെ കൂടിയ പോലെയും, കുറെയധികം കാര്യങ്ങൾ സാധിച്ചു തീർക്കാൻ പറ്റുന്നതിന്റെയും ഒരു സംതൃപ്തി ഉണ്ടാവും. സ്കൂളിലെ തന്നെ അക്കൗണ്ടന്റ് ആയതു കൊണ്ട് മിക്കവാറും കുട്ടികളുടെ കൂടെ തന്നെ വീട്ടിലെത്താൻ പറ്റാറുമുണ്ട്. ചിലപ്പോൾ വല്ല വര്ഷാവസാന ഓഡിറ്റോ മറ്റോ വരുമ്പോൾ മാത്രമേ വൈകാറുള്ളൂ. </p><p>അടുക്കളയിൽ കയറി കുട്ടികൾക്ക് പാലും ബിസ്ക്കറ്റും കൊടുത്തു, രണ്ടു ചായയും ഉണ്ടാക്കി, ഒരു മൂളിപ്പാട്ട് പാടി മുറ്റത്തെ ചെറിയ തോട്ടത്തിലേക്കിറങ്ങി.</p><p>-------------- </p><p>അവൻ ക്യൂവിൽ അവസാനമായിരുന്നു. അവളുടെ വിൻഡോയിൽ എത്തിയപ്പോൾ അടുത്തിരുന്ന ശ്രീകുമാർ അവളെയും അവനെയും നോക്കി അറിഞ്ഞൊരു ചിരി ചിരിച്ചത് അവൾ കണ്ടു. അവൻ ഡെപ്പോസിറ് ചെയ്യാനുള്ള പണം കൊടുത്തു, അവൾ രശീതി എഴുതുന്നതിനിടയിൽ, അവൾക്കു ഒരു ചെറിയ ഡയറിമിൽക്ക് നീട്ടി. അവൾ തെല്ലൊരു നാണം കളർന്നുള്ള ചിരിയോടെ അത് വാങ്ങി ബാഗിനുള്ളിൽ ഇട്ടു. ശ്രീകുമാർ പതിവ് പോലെ അത് കണ്ടില്ലെന്നു നടിക്കുകയും ചെയ്തു.</p><p>അവൻ തിരിഞ്ഞു നടക്കുമ്പോൾ അവൾ കസേലയിലേക്കു ചാരിയിരുന്നു അവൻ പോകുന്നത് ഇത് വരെ കാണാത്തതു പോലെ നോക്കിയിരുന്നു.</p><p>-----------------</p><p>കുട്ടികളുടെ ഹോംവർക് നോക്കുന്നതിനിടയിലാണ് ഗേറ്റ് തുറക്കുന്ന ശബ്ദം കേട്ടത്. ജെയിംസ് ക്ലോക്കിലേക്കൊന്നു നോക്കി. ആറു മണിയാവാറായിരിക്കുന്നു. ശ്രീജ വസ്ത്രം മാറ്റി കുട്ടികളോട് വർത്തമാനം ഒക്കെ പറഞ്ഞു വരുമ്പോഴേക്കും ജെയിംസ് ചായ ചൂടാക്കി. രണ്ടു ചെറിയ ഊത്തപ്പവും ഉണ്ടാക്കി. അടുക്കള തിട്ടിൽ ചാരി നിന്ന് ആലോചനയിൽ മുഴുകി ഊത്തപ്പം തിന്നുന്ന ശ്രീജയെ നോക്കി നിന്നു. പതിനഞ്ചു വര്ഷം! എത്ര പെട്ടെന്നാണ് പോയത്! തന്നെ നോക്കി ചിരിച്ചു നിൽക്കുന്ന ജെയിംസിന് നേരെ ശ്രീജ പുരികമൊന്നുയർത്തി. ഒന്നുമില്ലെന്ന മട്ടിൽ ജെയിംസ് തലയാട്ടി. ഇരുവരും അടുക്കളപ്പണിയിലും കുട്ടികളുടെ കാര്യങ്ങളിലേക്കും തിരിഞ്ഞു.</p><p>------------------</p><p>പത്തു മണിയോടെ ടീവി ഓഫ് ആക്കി. കുട്ടികൾ നേരത്തെ ഉറങ്ങിയിരുന്നു. കിടക്കയിൽ ഇരുന്നു പുസ്തകം വായിക്കുന്ന ജെയിംസിനോട് കുറച്ചൊരു കുസൃതിയോടെ അവൾ ചോദിച്ചു - "ചോക്ലേറ്റ് തന്നാൽ മാത്രം മതിയോ? പങ്കു വേണ്ടേ?". പുസ്തകം മടക്കി വച്ച് അവൻ ഒരു പുഞ്ചിരിയോടെ അവൾ നീട്ടിയ ചോക്ലേറ്റ് വാങ്ങി അവൻ അവളെ തന്നിലേക്കടുപ്പിച്ചു ഒരുമ്മ വച്ചു.</p><div><br /></div>Madhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07462059528207003967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-23705317899991575652022-04-28T09:08:00.000-07:002022-04-28T09:08:26.717-07:00What was.<p> </p><!--StartFragment-->
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It was getting colder. The onset
of winter, and to think that it was only October. But out here in Munnar, it
was always cold. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Gazing out of the window,
Saraswati amma, as everyone fondly called her, could see fog enveloping the tea
plantations all around. She was petite and rounded. Of late, her eyes felt
glazed. The cataract surgery for her left eye had been due a month ago. The
workers seemed to have gone home early today. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It was her idea, to come and
settle in Munnar after retirement. They had sold off their house in Thrissur
and some property too. Parameshwaran Nair had unwillingly given in to her
persuasion. Or had she been outright stubborn? Didn’t matter anymore. Her
children were not happy with the decision. What with them being so far away,
they wanted their parents shifted to a flat in Kochi. A flat! The very thought
of being enclosed in a small space, sharing walls with strangers irked her.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She fell in love with this house
as soon as she stepped into it. It probably was the windows that did it – large
French windows with beautiful frames. There was a fireplace even! Then there
was a tiny garden upfront. The view from the bedroom was beautiful – she had of
course chosen it as hers. You could see the sun setting over the hills. They
had been happy there.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Parameshwaran Nair had passed two
years ago, yet she decided to stay on. She had help, ofcourse. There was Neeli
who came every weekend – to clean the place, make beds. There was always a
little bit of dust here and there, some cobwebs on the ceiling, even after
Neeli ‘cleaned’. Domestic help was so hard to get these days, so she held
herself back from complaining too much. Then there was Velappan, the gardener.
He was a drunk, but very good at his job. Loved plants and talked to them even.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She watched the sun slowly go
down behind the hills. She wasn’t feeling very well. Maybe she had forgotten
her blood pressure medicines? She couldn’t recall. There were guests today,
Velappan and Neeli had mentioned. She went around the house, checking if the
bed sheets were clean, the bathrooms scrubbed and the water heaters working.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Fatigue washed over her, as she
yawned. She wanted to creep into bed, rub her feet with some of that oil, a
concoction Neeli had given her, and sleep. Yet she decided to wait up until the
guests arrived and exchange pleasantries. She had always been this gracious
hostess. Rude otherwise, she thought. Why were they getting so late? Had they
lost their way?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">At around 9.30 or so, she heard
the keys rattle and the door opening. Velappan must have handed them the keys.
He knew she slept early on some days. She opened the bedroom door a little and
took a peak- Two men, hefty and tall, entered. The idea of exchanging
pleasantries now took a backseat in her mind. On some nights, when there were
guests, Velappan’s son Kannan came over to sleep. He wasn’t there today. Exams
or something, Velappan had mumbled.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She made a mental note to
herself, to tell Velappan only to let in families hereafter. Not that there
were any valuables in the house, but can’t trust anyone these days. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Resignedly, she decided to go to
bed. The Hellos could wait until morning. Somehow, sleep evaded her. She tossed
and turned. Was it something about those men that bothered her? Or was it her
aching calf muscles? Smoke from cigarettes wafted into her room. Again she got
up and opened the door a bit. The door creaked a little. The hinges needed
oiling – another mental note. The creak caught one of the men’s attention, and
he looked up. She quickly moved aside, but then he got distracted. There was
alcohol- Of course Velappan had sourced it. They spoke in hushed voices. Were
they planning something? Or was she just being plain paranoid?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">How embarrassing to have been
almost caught spying secretly on your tenant. Parameshwaran Nair would have
chided her if he was here. It had been his idea, to let the bungalow out to
tourists. For him, more than a source of additional income, it had been for
company’s sake. He was a social being. Always surrounded himself with friends
and family. Loved to talk. She on the other hand was a loner. Always had been
one.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In fact, the day Parameshwaran
Nair died, they had guests. He was sitting with them, narrating tales from his
childhood in Madurai, when the pain struck. And that had been it. Not much of a
struggle, no suffering. Didn’t even make it halfway to the hospital. Soon
after, her children had taken her with them to Houston. It was all good for a
while, grandchildren and all. But she longed for her own space somehow. She
longed to be back home.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Pressing her ear against the
door, she listened intently. No sounds at all. No hushed whispers even. She had
locked the door, just in case. Were they secretly lurking outside her door?
Were they on the other side of the door, ears pressed against it too? Was that
a shadow moving outside her window? She quickly walked over and drew the
curtains.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Never again, she vowed. No more
guests- No families, no groups of men, no one. It was so cold anymore. Was she
sweating? She glanced over at the old cuckoo clock – it was just about two in
the morning. The sun wouldn’t be up over the plantations until at least five.
Not a wink of sleep. Her body stiff from the stress, she closed her eyes
tightly and prayed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Where are you from, Sir?”, The
old man asked, folding his newspaper and took a long drag from his beedi. It
was really cold The two layers that they had thought would suffice were proving
otherwise now. “We work in Kochi, but we’re actually from Varkala and
Kozhikode.” Tiju and Sumesh were regular techies, and roommates. This trip had
been an impromptu one. Both had set out on their bikes in the evening and
gotten here by night.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Their tea had gone cold. “Where
are you staying here, in Munnar?” The old man was curious. Not really. He made
his living out of the meager commission that home stays and tourist guides paid
him. “Oh! At that homestay, Spice Valley? A couple of kilometers up this road,
to the right.” Tiju explained. “Ah! Velappan must have taken you there, right?”
The woman running the shop joined in the conversation, bringing them another
glass of tea. “Belonged to a kind couple. The man passed away few years ago.
The children are away, far off somewhere. Took their mother with them, but
somehow she always wanted to come back here, I guess. Six months ago or so, she
passed away in that foreign land. They didn’t even come down to cremate her.
Poor soul.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Gazing out of her bedroom window,
Saraswati Amma watched the sun slowly go down behind the hills.<o:p></o:p></p>
<!--EndFragment-->Thulasihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09472622809149854200noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-16303161546665710582022-04-27T13:05:00.003-07:002022-04-27T13:35:54.740-07:00A lonely love<p> The first rays of sun kissed the window sill, and Mahesh got up from his bed. </p><p>It was his off day and he felt happy to have the whole day ahead of him. </p><p>Mahesh was an art lover and his off days were spent visiting art galleries, more so to kill all the boredom that comes along with his regular, routine life. Spending all day long in front of his laptop as a software engineer does nothing to refresh his soul, so he often finds these weekends as a respite and getaway to follow what he truly believes in, art. </p><p>He got up from his bed and was all excited to get up and going. It was nearing 9 in the morning now. He was living in a single room lodge in Coimbatore. The place had a special ambience with lots of tea shops and by lanes filled with bustling energy. He had a look through his windowsill and saw people busy in their own worlds, some sipping tea and taking a drag from their cigarettes' while others rushing to places, god knows where. He indulged in the sight seeing for some time before getting ready to go out. </p><p>He got ready quickly. Came down and grabbed a cup of hot coffee from the tea shop downstairs along with his normal routine of idly vada as breakfast. He went to the bus stop and was waiting for the bus there heading for Gandhipuram. He boarded the bus, reached Gandhipuram and got down from the bus. </p><p>He strolled towards his destination, which is the art house of Gandhipuram. A place filled with beautiful paintings and artistic richness. He slowly entered the place and started walking down the aisle, enjoying each and every detail of the paintings. He was stuck in a painting for a while, marveling its beauty and almost lost the track of time. Suddenly he heard a voice which made him come back to the normal world. She said" I too love this painting, and often come back here just to see it". Mahesh looked sideways and there she was. "Yes, yes" Mahesh replied " A true piece of beauty indeed". </p><p>Maya was her name and Mahesh was smitten by her the moment he saw her. Maya was just like a beautiful lady, straight out of a painting. He was in awe of this lady in such a short time and it was love at first sight for Mahesh. They had similar tastes of art and exchanged ideas about different paintings and art works adding more color to the world of Mahesh. Even though Mahesh had the whole day ahead of him to enjoy art, it was not the same for Maya. </p><p>She had to go back to her house a little earlier than what Mahesh expected. This broke his heart, he wanted to spend more time with her. Now Mahesh was eager to get her contact number so that he can get in touch with her later. He was very shy and was hesitant to get it from her. "Okay Mahesh, its time for me to leave". Mahesh had butterflies in his stomach. It was a do or die situation for him. Either get her number or lose her forever. The fear of losing her got the better of him and he asked for her contact number. She smiled and replied " Do you know something Mahesh. I fell in love with you the moment i saw you. That's why I interrupted your thought process. That's why I took you away from your paintings, but now its time to put you back into the world of paintings as falling in love with you is impossible for me as i am a married woman. Sorry for disturbing your peace of mind. Now lets get back to our realties. She turned back and without uttering anything more, walked away from Mahesh. </p><p>Yet another lonely love of Mahesh..</p>Praveenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178031396260601318noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-81168231279725728552022-02-18T21:14:00.000-08:002022-04-28T09:21:04.719-07:00കുട്ടമാൻ<p> മനസ്സിന്റെ പിന്നിൽ നിന്ന് ചെറുതായി പൊങ്ങി വരുന്ന ആ ആന്തലിനിടയിലും രവി ഒരു മാത്ര പുഞ്ചിരിച്ചു. </p><p>"കുട്ടമാനെ കാണാനില്ല"</p><p>രാവിലെ ശാന്ത വന്നു പറഞ്ഞപ്പോൾ, അതിലെ പ്രാസം മാത്രമാണ് പെട്ടെന്ന് പതിഞ്ഞത്. </p><p>കിടക്കയിൽ എഴുന്നേറ്റിരുന്നു പിന്നെയും ഒന്ന് രണ്ടാവർത്തി അത് തന്നെ ഉരുവിട്ടിരുന്നു. </p><p><br /></p><p>പതുക്കെ പുതപ്പൊക്കെ മടക്കി വെച്ച് അടുക്കളയിലേക്കു പോയി. ശാന്ത ആകെ പരിഭ്രമത്തിലാണ്. "രവിയേട്ടാ, ഒന്ന് വേഗം അന്വേഷിക്കൂ", അവൾ പറഞ്ഞു.</p><p><br /></p><p>"ഇവിടെ അടുത്തെവിടെയെങ്കിലും പോയതാവും, നീ വെറുതെ പരിഭ്രമിക്കണ്ട"</p><p><br /></p><p>"അതല്ല രവിയേട്ടാ, പെട്ടിയും കിടക്കയും ഒന്നും കാണുന്നില്ല"</p><p><br /></p><p>രവി വിശ്വാസം വരാതെ മുഖം കോടിച്ചു. "ങേ?" എന്നൊരു ശബ്ദം മാത്രം മാത്രം പുറത്തു വന്നു.</p><p>തിരിഞ്ഞു ചെന്ന് കുട്ടമാന്റെ ചെറിയ മുറിയിൽ കയറി നോക്കി.</p><p><br /></p><p>ശെരിയാണല്ലോ, അവിടെ അങ്ങനെ ഒരാൾ ഉണ്ടായിരുന്ന ലക്ഷണമേ ഇല്ല. ജനലിൽ തൂക്കിയിട്ടിരുന്ന ഒരു ചെറിയ കണ്ണാടി മാത്രമായിരുന്നു ബാക്കി.</p><p>അതല്ലാതെ കുട്ടമാന്റതു എ ന്ന് പറയാൻ മാത്രം ഒരു വലിയ പെട്ടി മാത്രമാണ് ഉണ്ടായിരുന്നത്. അതും അയാളുടെ തുണിയും പോയിരിക്കുന്നു. കിടക്കയൊക്കെ നന്നായി മടക്കി വെച്ചിട്ടുണ്ട്. എങ്ങോട്ടോ തീരുമാനിച്ചുറച്ച പോയ ചെയ്തു പോയത് പോലെ തോന്നി.</p><p><br /></p><p>ഒരു ചെറിയ ആശ്വാസത്തോടെ ശാന്ത അടുത്ത മുറിയിൽ നിന്ന് ആഭരണങ്ങളും, വീട്ടിലുണ്ടായിരുന്ന കുറച്ചു കാശും പോയിട്ടില്ല എന്ന് പറയുന്നത് കേട്ടു. </p><p><br /></p><p>അങ്ങനത്തെ ഒരാളായി കുട്ടമാനെപ്പറ്റി തോന്നാത്തത് കൊണ്ട് തന്നെ രവിക്ക് അതിൽ തെല്ലും അതിശയം തോന്നിയില്ല.</p><p><br /></p><p>കുട്ടമാൻ അവരുടെ കൂടെ താമസമാക്കിയിട്ടു മൂന്നു മാസം ആകുന്നതേ ഉള്ളൂ. ആ സമയത്തു മദ്രാസ്സിൽ നിന്ന് നാട്ടിലേക്ക് പോയപ്പോൾ ശാന്തയുടെ അനിയനാണ് പറഞ്ഞത്, അവരുടെ അടുത്ത വീട്ടിൽ താമസിക്കുന്ന ഈയാളെപ്പറ്റി. കുടുംബവും പ്രാരാബ്ധങ്ങളും ഒന്നുമില്ലാതെ തനിയെയാണ് താമസം. കുട്ടികളെ ഒക്കെ നോക്കാൻ ശാന്തക്കൊരു തുണയാവുമല്ലോ എന്നവൻ പറഞ്ഞു. ശെരിയാണ് എന്ന് രവിക്കും തോന്നി. സൗമ്യനും എപ്പോഴും ഒരു ചെറിയ പുഞ്ചിരി പുറത്തു വരാൻ മടിച്ചു നിൽക്കുന്ന മുഖവും ഉള്ള കുട്ടമാൻ ശാന്തക്കും സ്വീകാര്യനായിരുന്നു.</p><p><br /></p><p>കുട്ടികൾക്കെന്തായാലും കുട്ടമാനെ വലിയ കാര്യമായിരുന്നു. മുതുകത്തു കയറി ആന കളിക്കാനും, ഓല കൊണ്ട് വാച്ചുണ്ടാക്കി കൊടുക്കാനും ഒക്കെ കുട്ടമാൻ മതി എന്നായിരുന്നു അപ്പുവിനും ചിന്നുവിനും.</p><p><br /></p><p>ഇന്നലെ വൈകുന്നേരം മുറ്റത്തിരുന്നു മാണിക്യേട്ടനും അമ്മുവേടത്തിയോടും സംസാരിക്കുമ്പോൾ കുട്ടമാൻ അടുത്തിരുന്നു മോൾക്ക് ചോറ് ഉരുളയാക്കി വായിൽ വെച്ച് കൊടുക്കുന്നത് കണ്ടപ്പോൾ ചെറുതായെങ്കിലും ഒരു നൊമ്പരം രവിക്കും തോന്നിയിരുന്നു. തന്റെ ചെറിയൊരു വിഷാദഛായ ഉള്ള മുഖം ശ്രദ്ധിച്ചിട്ടാവണം മാണിക്യേട്ടൻ കാര്യം തിരക്കിയത്. താൻ നന്നേ ചെറുതാവുമ്പോൾ അമ്മയെ ഉപേക്ഷിച്ചു പോയ അച്ഛന്റെ കാര്യവും പിന്നെ അമ്മാവന്മാരുടെ കാരുണ്യത്തിലും അതിന്റെ അഭാവത്തിലുമൊക്കെ വളർന്ന കഥകളുമൊക്കെ പറഞ്ഞു. അവരോടത് പറഞ്ഞപ്പോൾ എന്തെന്നില്ലാത്ത ഒരാശ്വാസവും തോന്നിയിരുന്നു. അപ്പോഴാണല്ലോ താൻ കുട്ടമാനെ അവസാനമായി കണ്ടത് എന്നും രവി ഓർത്തെടുത്തു.</p><p><br /></p><p>ഇനി അവരുടെ വീട്ടിലേക്കു പോയിട്ടുണ്ടാവുമോ? രവി അവിടെയും പോയി തിരക്കി. ഇല്ല. </p><p><br /></p><p>എവിടെപ്പോയി തിരക്കാനാണ് ? രവിക്ക് കുറച്ചു പേടിയൊക്കെ തോന്നിത്തുടങ്ങി. കുറച്ചു പ്രായമായ മനുഷ്യനാണ് . എവിടെയെങ്കിലും വച്ച് എന്തെങ്കിലും സംഭവിച്ചാൽ? സുഹൃത്തായ ഒരു പോലീസുകാരനെ കണ്ടു വിവരം പറഞ്ഞു. വീട്ടിൽ നിന്ന് വിലപിടിപ്പുള്ളതൊന്നും പോകാഞ്ഞത് കൊണ്ടും, എവിടേക്കോ ഒരു യാത്ര പോയത് പോലെയുള്ള സ്വഭാവം കൊണ്ടും അയ്യാൾ നാട്ടിലേക്ക് മടങ്ങിപ്പോയിക്കാനും എന്ന് ആ സുഹൃത്ത് പറഞ്ഞു. ആലോചിച്ചപ്പോൾ അത് ശെരിയായിരിക്കാമെന്നു രവിക്കും തോന്നി. ഉടനെ പോസ്റ്റ് ആപ്പീസിൽ ചെന്ന് നാട്ടിലേക്ക് ഒരു കമ്പി അയച്ചു, കുട്ടമാനെ കണ്ടാൽ വിവരമറിയിക്കാൻ. </p><p><br /></p><p>മനസ്സിന് കുറച്ചൊരു സമാധാനം ആയതു നാല് ദിവസം കഴിഞ്ഞു ശാന്തയുടെ അനിയന്റെ സന്ദേശം വന്നപ്പോഴാണ് . കുട്ടമാൻ നാട്ടിൽ എത്തിയിരിക്കുന്നു അന്ന് പറഞ്ഞായിരുന്നു അത് . എന്നാലും, എന്താവാം അതിനു കാരണം എന്ന് എത്ര ആലോചിച്ചിട്ടും രവിക്ക് പിടി കിട്ടിയില്ല. </p><p><br /></p><p>ഒരു മാസത്തോളം കഴിഞ്ഞു ഒരു ചെറിയ ആവശ്യത്തിനായി രവി നാട്ടിലെത്തി. ജോലിത്തിരക്ക് കഴിഞ്ഞു നേരെ പോയത് കുറ്റമാൻ താമസിച്ചിരുന്ന ചെറിയ വീട്ടിലേക്കു തന്നെ. വാതിലിൽ മുട്ടി വിളിച്ചപ്പോൾ വളരെയധികം സങ്കോചത്തോടെയാണ് അയാൾ വാതിൽ തുറന്നതു. രവിയെ കണ്ടതും വളരെ വിമ്മിഷ്ടത്തോടെ പതുക്കെ കരയാനും തുടങ്ങി. രവിക്ക് ആകെ ഒരു അമ്പരപ്പായിരുന്നു. "കുട്ടമാൻ, എന്തായിത്? ഞാനെന്തങ്കിലും തെറ്റ് പറയുകയോ പ്രവർത്തിക്കുകയോ ചെയ്തുവോ? എന്തായാലും ക്ഷമിക്കൂ . നിങ്ങള്ക്ക് പറഞ്ഞിട്ട് പോരാമായിരുന്നു. ഞങ്ങളൊക്കെ എന്ത് മാത്രം വിഷമിച്ചെന്നോ". </p><p><br /></p><p>കുട്ടമാൻ കൈകൾ കൂപ്പി പറഞ്ഞു - "മോനെ, ഞാൻ നിന്റെ അച്ഛനാടാ"</p>Madhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07462059528207003967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-80861533820765234152019-10-04T06:41:00.003-07:002019-10-04T06:41:56.868-07:00Shyam discussing death<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"Acha", Shyam said, a bit morosely, "You are going to die!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">We were lying down. </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Him on my right and Aditi on my left. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">The darkness of the night almost absolute, only the faint blue glow of the alarm system giving a faint bit of light.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I was caught unawares, a bit startled. Normally our bedtime conversations revolved around firetrucks and paw patrol.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"That is mean", said Aditi.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"How old are you Acha?" Shyam asked. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"Forty".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"You are old and you are going to die", he said, a bit of panic creeping into his voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Now, I knew that his idea of time and numbers is a bit skewed, even then, this was a bit odd.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"People only die when they are a hundred years old, Shyam", I tried to console him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"Acha, I am five now, and then I will be six, and seven and soon I will be a hundred", his voice had started to crack a bit now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"That is a long way to go monu, don't worry".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"I don't want to die", he whimpered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And then, he started to cry. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Shyam is generally a very happy person, and even when he cries these days, he pretends that he is not crying, tears flowing down from those big eyes, lips curled down in sadness, but at the same time insisting that he is not sad. It sometimes is heartbreaking and at times funny. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Now was one of those heartbreaking times.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I was at a loss. Should I delve into a philosophical reflection about life and death? Or try to joke about it?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He was sobbing loudly now, but then, all of a sudden slowed down.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"I have an idea", he managed to say in between his sobs. "After I turn six, maybe I can go back to being five again, and then four...".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I was ready to grasp at anything now. And at that hour, agreeing with him did seem to be the best idea to quiet him down.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"That is a good idea", I said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He stopped crying all of a sudden, like turning off a switch. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"Thank you Acha, you are the best". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He gave me a tight hug. Made it all worthwhile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">PS: I could feel Aditi's knowing smile on the other side.</span></div>
Madhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07462059528207003967noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-32264764328972210182017-12-13T07:21:00.003-08:002017-12-13T07:21:20.397-08:00കുട്ടിച്ചെറിയമ്മയുടെ കുട്ടിക്കവിത<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
കവിതയുടെ നീളം മാത്രമേ ചെറുതായുളളൂ, ആശയം വളരെ വലുതാണ്.<br />
<br />
ശബ്ദമെന്നൊരായുധം<br />
മൂർച്ച കൂട്ടി വയ്ക്കുക<br />
വേണ്ടിടത്തുമാത്രമായ്<br />
ശബ്ദമൊന്നുയർത്തുക<br />
<br />
ദയയെന്നൊരരുവിയെ<br />
വറ്റാതെ നോക്കുക<br />
വേണ്ടിടത്തു വേണ്ടിടത്തു<br />
ഉറവയായി നൽകുക<br />
<br />
സ്നേഹമെന്ന സൗരഭം<br />
നീളെ നീളെ പരത്തുക<br />
സ്നേഹവൃക്ഷമൊന്നതായ്<br />
പടർന്നു പന്തലിയ്ക്കുക</div>
Madhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07462059528207003967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-30311013586368835632013-02-04T07:40:00.003-08:002013-02-04T07:40:48.620-08:00So God made a farmer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The Dodge Ram ad was ranked number 1 by pretty much all the surveys. Paul Harvey - So God made farmers. Here's the video -<br />
<br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/AMpZ0TGjbWE" target="_blank">Superbowl Dodge Ram Ad</a><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4f4f4f; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">and the text - </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4f4f4f; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">And on the 8th day God looked down on his planned paradise and said, "I need a caretaker!". So, God made a farmer!</span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">God said I need somebody to get up before dawn and milk cows and work all day in the fields, milk cows again, eat supper and then go to town and stay past midnight at a meeting of the school board. So, God made a farmer!</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">I need somebody with strong arms. Strong enough to rustle a calf, yet gentle enough to deliver his own grandchild. Somebody to call hogs, tame cantankerous machinery, come home hungry and have to wait for lunch until his wife is done feeding and visiting with the ladies and telling them to be sure to come back real soon...and mean it. So, God made a farmer!</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">God said "I need somebody that can shape an ax handle, shoe a horse with a hunk of car tire make a harness out of hay wire, feed sacks and shoe scraps. And...who, at planting time and harvest season, will finish his forty hour week by Tuesday noon. Then, pain'n from "tractor back", put in another seventy two hours. So, God made a farmer!</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">God had to have somebody willing to ride the ruts at double speed to get the hay in ahead of the rain clouds and yet stop on mid-field and race to help when he sees the first smoke from a neighbor's place. So, God made a farmer!</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">God said, "I need somebody strong enough to clear trees, heave bails and yet gentle enough to tame lambs and wean pigs and tend the pink combed pullets...and who will stop his mower for an hour to mend the broken leg of a meadow lark. So, God made a farmer!</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">It had to be somebody who'd plow deep and straight...and not cut corners. Somebody to seed and weed, feed and breed...and rake and disc and plow and plant and tie the fleece and strain the milk. Somebody to replenish the self feeder and then finish a hard days work with a five mile drive to church. Somebody who'd bale a family together with the soft strong bonds of sharing, who'd laugh and then sigh...and then respond with smiling eyes, when his son says he wants to spend his life "doing what dad does". So, God made a farmer!</span></span><br />
</div>
Madhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07462059528207003967noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-9174215395885990002013-01-18T11:57:00.000-08:002013-01-18T11:57:39.954-08:00George Orwell - 1984<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">"The most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<br />
<h1 class="quoteText" style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">
Those who control the present, control the past and those who control the past control the future.”</h1>
</div>
Madhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07462059528207003967noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-14061757846984011352013-01-11T08:59:00.002-08:002013-01-11T08:59:58.493-08:00Democracy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Heard about this on the radio recently, and thought will share it here. Worth chewing on, be it the condition in India, or here in the United States.<br />
<br />
It could probably that we are getting a bit too skeptical and are under-estimating our resurgence ability. And it becomes clear when you read about Alexander Tytler that he had a cynical view of the democratic system of government, and probably that the democracy that he writes about is not as evolved as the ones now. And we all know that there simply doesn't seem to be a better form of government than a democracy at the moment.<br />
<br />
But.<br />
<br />
Keeping in mind all these things, these words still manages to achive parity with the current situation. Selfishness and Complacency and Apathy.<br />
<br />
(Do click on his name to get to Wikipedia to read about him)<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 10px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_Fraser_Tytler" style="border: 0px; color: #113d76; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: initial; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank"><strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Alexander Tytler</strong></a>, a Scottish history professor at the University of Edinborough (1887) has been credited with the following:</div>
<blockquote style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); border: 0px; clear: both; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic; line-height: 22px; margin: 20px 0px; min-height: 25px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 45px; vertical-align: baseline; width: auto;">
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin-bottom: 10px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">A democracy is always temporary in nature; it simply cannot exist as a permanent form of government. A democracy will continue to exist up until the time that voters discover that they can vote themselves generous gifts from the public treasury. From that moment on, the majority always votes for the candidates who promise the most benefits from the public treasury, with the result that every democracy will finally collapse due to loose fiscal policy, which is always followed by a dictatorship.</em></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin-bottom: 10px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<em style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Great nations rise and fall. They always progress through the following sequences:</em></div>
<ul style="border: 0px; clear: none; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: outside; margin: 12px 0px 10px 30px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<li class="first" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">From bondage to spiritual faith;</li>
<li style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">From spiritual faith to great courage;</li>
<li style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">From courage to liberty;</li>
<li style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">From liberty to abundance;</li>
<li style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">From abundance to selfishness;</li>
<li style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">From selfishness to complacency;</li>
<li style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">From complacency to apathy;</li>
<li style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">From apathy to dependence;</li>
<li class="last" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">From dependence back into bondage.</li>
</ul>
</blockquote>
</div>
Madhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07462059528207003967noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-71567813858049878102012-12-29T08:25:00.001-08:002013-01-04T11:58:13.632-08:00Blood on our hands<p dir="ltr">I did not know her and yet she could be any one of my four sisters, or my wife, or my daughter. While on some corner of my heart I am relieved that she did not have to suffer from her wounds, I realize how wrong it is to think so. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Over 650 cases of rape in Delhi alone and the statistic that 1 in every 4 cases in the nation happens there. </p>
<p dir="ltr">So, if the person had not been brutalized and left for dead, would we even have noticed this? Wouldn't it have been just another tiny news besides some political buffoonery? Haven't we become so apathetic that nothing shocks us anymore? </p>
<p dir="ltr">Look down at our hands. Yes, the blood is on our hands. Of hers and a hundred others.</p>
Madhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07462059528207003967noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-650463169299006792012-12-28T12:58:00.002-08:002013-01-04T11:58:13.629-08:00Growing up with Tendulkar<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hundreds of people have written about Sachin's retirement, and <a href="http://www.espncricinfo.com/magazine/content/current/story/598402.html">this</a> is the one I liked the most, at least of all that I have read till now. Maybe because it directly resonates with the age group that I belong to.<br /><div>
He probably is the first player I can remember whom we can easily address by his first and last names, almost as if he is a member of the family, or a dear friend. I know that my father is probably a much more avid fan of Sachin than I am, but I can say that I grew up with Sachin.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
To remember, very vividly, the period when cricket in India literally was synonymous with Sachin, and that people would switch the TV off in despair when he got out.</div>
<div>
To write "MRF" on a bat that the local carpenter made (which in hindsight looked more like an ice cream stick).</div>
<div>
To have had utter belief in him (and a few others) when match fixing rocked the scene.</div>
<div>
To defend him to those few infidels who bayed for his retirement during those lean patches.</div>
<div>
At the Youtube age, to watch his various innings and get goosebumps. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There are many greats in cricket, but there will always be only one Sachin.*</div>
<div>
Adieu Maestro!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(*Yes, I DID stop short of calling him the God; Not because I wouldn't love to, but because it has been cliched)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
Madhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07462059528207003967noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-65461510880105044002012-12-18T21:04:00.001-08:002013-01-04T11:58:13.631-08:00A heinous crime<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The rape of a paramedical student in New Delhi is a shocking slap on the face of the nation's conscience. It may happen, that in our constant quest for up-to-the-minute headlines, this may disappear in a few weeks, or even in a matter of a few days.<br />
<br />
There shouldn't be any question that the culprits should be given the maximum possible sentence, but isn't this also a time to reflect on ourselves? Where we stand as a nation? What out collective conscience as a society is?<br />
<br />
Much is made out of India as getting to a "developed country" status. Yes, our economy is growing. People have better living conditions. But then, aren't our values as a civilized culture on a conflict course with most of the things that even a generation before us held as sacred?<br />
<br />
Isn't it time that we stopped viewing women as a "commodity"? Somehow a weaker, inferior, lesser human being? Isn't how we treat women and children, and their safety and freedom, an important indication of a developed mindset? For, finally, isn't it the mindset of the people that determines how developed we are as a country? </div>
Madhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07462059528207003967noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-89601729332696638452012-12-14T14:22:00.000-08:002013-01-04T11:58:13.634-08:00Heart Breaking<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When a shooter goes on a rampage, shooting innocent people at random, it is indeed a very scary thing. But then, when the victims happen to be innocent children, it is heart breaking indeed.<br />
<br />
The Connecticut school shooting is an example of how deranged and dangerous some of the people have become. And the people who vehemently support the Second amendment, the right to carry a fire-arm, should realize that their fire-arm could not protect their little ones.<br />
<br />
But that, I guess, is besides the point. The children who died had their whole lives in front of them, cut short by a lunatic in a moment.<br />
<br />
I have never been more scared for my child than this. I know I will hug her tighter this evening, and whisper a prayer for all those parents and children.</div>
Madhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07462059528207003967noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3834130556681611930.post-72956842273835255922012-12-10T17:00:00.001-08:002013-01-04T11:58:32.944-08:00Getting back up..<p dir="ltr">A lot of time and money was spent on getting a site up. And a bit of love too. All of it washed away in a hacker's whimsy. I erred too. Not protecting the site properly, making some novice mistakes. But it's time to get back up and build something even better. A bit simpler than the last time to start off, but which I hope we can make up in content. Something where we can all play a better part, and contribute much more.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Welcome back and cheers!!</p>
Madhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07462059528207003967noreply@blogger.com1