Trains

To sound poetic when the topic you are writing on in is the ‘ Indian railways’, is tough. Especially when the not-so-fond memories of the last time you had to use the ‘loo’ comes rushing into the mind. Or the distinct nauseating odour of Lord knows what that haunts the entire train. We do have the dirtiest trains in the world. But there is something about these trains, a feeling that lacks a proper adjective, that makes you excited each time you make a journey.  Something very uniquely ‘Indian’.

My earliest memory would be that of the ‘passenger’ (shuttle) train ride with my grandparents to the Thrissur district.  A ride that had more to do with the rail moving ‘backwards’ than us moving front.  And I used to sit in the corner of a seat  or sometimes even in the space between the legs of some kind strangers, imagining a ‘flat world’ and the roaring train coming to end at some mysterious place.

Life moved on. Aristotle's deduction , the concept of ‘relative motion’ et al. were stuffed into our systems.  But train rides only got better. The Thiruvananthapuram journeys  to conquer a certain ‘I.T’ quiz with fellow comrades.  And then a series of college fests and the ‘iconic journey’ .

The key to enjoying  the train ride is to be the silent observer and not the participant. Engage yourself in a conversation and you’ll soon find yourself having to listen to some random person’s take on the nuclear bill or the lunar hoax(this is personal experience talking).  Shy away into a corner, perhaps with a book or an ear phone as a precautionary measure, and watch the world through the five iron grills that usually makes up the ‘window’.

I’ve read poems and stories about trains before. About ‘giant centipedes’ crawling through different terrains. Ripping the forests, bringing light to the long dark tunnels and so on. But that to me is just a part of the story.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. A train ride is worth a thousand Pulitzers, if only could frame every second.  The story of that rubber plantation worker tapping the tree who stared at you. The kid missing his milk teeth who waved at you. The station master with his green flag in a remote village. The man whose job is to ensure that ‘those’ long dark tunnels are safe .  The odd man eying the transgender seductively. The hopeful fisherman. Women queuing up to get their buckets filled with water. Storks making life easier for a buffalo. Hundreds singing like possessed beings to the Lord almighty. The ‘ayyappa’ devotee  drying his clothes on the ceiling fan. The gypsy man carrying his wife of his shoulders as they cross the railway line. The people moving in synchronization with the train's sound. The stories are endless..

And the train? It moves on. Leaving all that as just mere memories. At some point its just an inanimate object that symbolizes a human life so beautifully. The dirty, old engine just keeps on running. Never wanting to stop or look back.  What does India strive for ? Communal harmony? What is India? Unity in diversity? And suddenly that image of a train tearing through societies comes into your mind. Muslims or Christians. Biharis or Malayalis.

To call our trains a mere mode of transport would be a serious failure in understanding what it really is. This is life. Brutal, honest and impartial as it can ever be.  And it is also life to many. From people  who survive by selling plastic bottles that travelers throw away to authors who sell their own books. 

“Pazham pori, uzhunnu vada …”. I looked at my hands, smiled to myself and asked for two. EACH.

                                                                          ---- Venad Express. 13/12/11  (signed with an oily hand)

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Paranormal Diaries 2

That night I had dreams. Long, dark, disturbing ones....
Natalie Portman was performing a ballet to what sounded like a strange Samba music played on bass guitars. The tempo kept increasing dramatically and the dance became wilder as it tried in vain to convey some message to me. Gradually the song started sounding more like an intense Tango. And then her eyes turned red., a deep red that looked like oxygen starving blood, as she started mimicking the motions of a snake. Fascinatingly she kept her eyes fixed on mine...
 
I was back home. Something started moving beneath the couch. Rat snakes. But it seemed to be scared of something else. Suddenly there were snakes everywhere. I tried shouting at the mysterious person inside my house to escape but he just stood there. And then a colossal of a snake came out of my bedroom and started chasing me. It was night and nobody seemed to hear my loud cries for help as I ran with the scampering rat snakes. Oddly though, I could see the snake chasing me as I ran. It was as if I was running backwards in full speed.
"Turn your head Nevin..Look where you are running to...Give in. We love you...." , a voice kept repeating, as the snake reached striking distance.
I woke up. The phone was been ringing. It showed 'Revathy calling..'. That was strange. I hadn't talked to her since my 6th grade. What an odd time to call. But it also felt good in a way. I used to be in love with her voice. And right now I could use with someone being sweet to me. What a peculiar dream.
Revathy kept saying something but I couldn't comprehend. She was speaking in English, at a reasonable pace but however I tried, I couldn't make out what she was saying. I kept asking her to repeat but she went on as if she couldn't hear me. Lord what was happening to me? And then the words started becoming clearer.

My hours are slumberless,
Dearest the shadows
I live with are numberless
Little white flowers will
never awaken you
Not where the black coach
of sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought of
ever returning you
Would they be angry
if I thought of joining you....

Revathy! Why on Earth are you singing 'Gloomy Sunday'? , I asked.
Silence. Nobody replied. Revathy? The silence seemed very different. Not the sense of emptiness or calmness. It was as if somebody was playing a recorded tape of 'silence' on the other side of the phone.
And suddenly , a voice broke the harmony.
Nevin, this is Peter Roebuck. The world is coming to an end.

The next day Peter Roebuck committed suicide. Revathy called.                                 [ to be contd.... ]

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Yet Another Mullaperiyar Story

It occurred to me one cold night [ the 'fine morning' part was starting to sound boring ] that having a 'swimming utilities' shop would mean quick money. Tectonic plates were moving in Idukki and there was panic everywhere I looked. People, who in their entire lives hadn't put more than Rs 50/- worth petrol inside their bike's fuel tank were now filling it upto the brim. Suddenly there was money to be spent. I even called up my friend who works in the insurance sector and inquired if it would be possible to rename any of their existing accidental policies as "mullaperiyar policy". Would sell like hot egg bajjis at Payyappilly's that!
And that was it. I had finally devised a plan to piss my friend ('a save Mullaperiyar through FB warrior') off. Surprisingly though, she liked the idea. According to her research, there would be 20 feet of water at Edappally if the unfortunate event happens. And that strangely implied goggles + insurance. Infact she urged me to find out more about it and inform her so that she could pass it on to her fellow FB warriors.
Depressed by the fact that I couldn't antagonize my friend I decided to switch on the TV for entertainment. Fascinatingly after 5 minutes of persistent channel swapping, I found myself comparing the Mullaperiyar saga with the previous cricket world cup. Such was the intensity. Special programs about the 999 pact. Interviews with Sohan Roy who got terribly lucky with the timing of his movie's release. Predictions by scientists and seismologists. And the media coming up with their own conclusions, which at times were completely contradictory to what their expert panel had found.
There is no disagreeing the fact that Mullaperiyar requires serious attention. Millions of lives at stake, both in Kerala and Tamil Nadu. The dam might not break tomorrow but it will someday. So it is a good thing to milk the sudden outrage and get a dam built, than sit quiet and die someday. As most Keralites know, the Mullaperiyar has a been time bomb for quite a while now. So the protests are more than justified.
What irritates me is the exploitation of the issue by certain organizations and individuals for their own benefits. Not many have been outrageous enough to suggest goggles and insurances but everyone seems keen on making the most out of the 'fear factor' that has completely devoured the people of Kerala. Politicians and media going to intolerable levels is not a new thing. That is how it has been since time immemorial.

Though I never voluntarily joined any Mullaperiyar group, I am a member of atleast 6 different groups in Facebook with the very same objective in mind. Like everybody else in Kerala, I wanted to know more so I decided to stay and for the first time paid attention to every single post  that popped up. Initially it was intriguing. Nobody knew what would happen but everyone realized the need to be insurgent and loud. Then it became a necessity. Everyone you cared about were in it. So you had to be in too. And then it became spam. Not because I suddenly started believing in Jayalalithaa's obtuse attitude or Idukki dam's new found strength. When I look inside these 'groups' what I see is 'chaos'. I've read at least 3 completely different versions of 'what to do' when the dam breaks. Seen immensely disturbing photos and videos of submerged  buildings and people dying in the Tsunami attack morphed into its 'Kerala' equivalent by talented artists. I understand their sentiments. Nobody wants another catastrophe. But December 26, 2004 is a scar we are still fighting hard to remove. Please don't alter these pictures or UNICEF's poster against water pollution, put your name or your facebook page's link on it and post in the Mullaperiyar forum. Its distressing and unfair. This act of  exploiting the public sentiment is unethical, outrageous and at times disgusting.

To idolize Bono is not a wrong thing. Most singers do at some point or the other. But the totally unrelated ' Oru Meeshakaryam' by one of Kochi's most promising band is yet another classic example of people trying to make the most out of the situation. Initially they brought out the song as a protest against the poor quality of Kerala roads. It didn't really click. So they are back again with the same old song. I suppose Elton John pulled it off with Monroe and Lady Diana. No reason they can't.

And then colleges and their 'eco' clubs come up with painting competitions. I do understand the apprehension and I appreciate the fact that  people are doing something about it. But why put the name of the college in it?  Stop making the most out of the issue for heaven sake!
If at all the dam breaks Tamil Nadu is going to suffer as well. Today we are playing the game precisely the way they want us to. In the rush, we would sign a dumb treaty for the next 400 years and then what? What if Kerala becomes dry next year and suddenly there is a need for the Mullaperiayar water?
I usually like to leave the readers confused but at the moment even I am confused. And the same goes for the entire Kerala. Nobody is sure. Nobody knows. At this point of time, its important that we forget our differences, preferences and stick together under one name- Kerala. What we require is ONE loud voice. Not umpteen small ones funded by corporates and organizations. And there are things we students can do that does not require spamming. Why not start a database and collect the name and addresses of the all the families volunteering to lend their multi-storied homes. Why not think of new ways to communicate like the Ham radio?  But then I seriously hope none of this is required.

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Paranormal diaries 1

No I don't believe in ghosts. Which probably explains why I ended up at the Edappally church's cemetery at 1 in the night. I wanted a sensational story for my blog and the greenish lights they had at the place would do brilliantly on a frame. Or so I had thought. Nothing happened. Ghosts did not rise up from the dead and dance to Iron Maiden. Nor did my ancestors pop up and advise me on what I should do [ now that would've been scary]. Yet I managed to sit there for two hours. Tried everything I could think off with the camera. And finally came back home depressed.
The next night I did think about the cemetery though, as I struggled hard to find sleep, which was odd considering the minimal sleep I had had. And when I turned to the other side I saw a strange figure in my brother's bed. I jumped, almost broke the headboard and hit the sharp edges of a rusted door knob as I struggled to turn on the lights. Clothes! A pile of them. Laziness had convinced me earlier to leave them on the other bed instead of folding and now I was paying the price. The wound was deep too. In the shape of a lightning. "Well done Harry Potter :-/ ", I thought, as I made my way to the toilet to get the after-shave. This had never happened to me before ...
That was when I noticed my reflection. I did look as if I had seen a ghost- pale and panic stricken. The image terrified me. Was I really that scared? Of what? I could still go the cemetery if I wanted to do. Wait. Did I really go there? Was I dreaming? Why is the world so still and silent?
As if to answer my question the German Shepard next door started whining. My thoughts flew to an incident that I've always tried to forget.
Early sixth grade. The police inspector next door had brought home a new dog. Every night he would whine and howl, probably upset about his new home. And mom used to get terribly upset about it. My brother and I tried reasoning with her but she kept saying something was wrong. There is a belief. Dogs howl when they hear souls cry. A soul knows about 'death' or any 'physical damage' much before the actual incident. And it cries. Probably in a frequency that we men can't detect but dogs can, my father had reasoned. which resulted in a roar of laughter and a change of topic that night. The very next day our neighbour who had been doing his engineering final year was killed in a tragic road accident. Nobody talked about that night ever again. And the dog never whined...
By now I was completely disturbed. I was not sure whether I had closed the balcony door and thought I'd go check. I didn't turn on the lights though. I somehow didn't want to. As I ascended the stairs an odour hit my nose. Long forgotten yet very refreshing. Infact quite a 'nostalgic' smell. One I used to love a long time back. One I had fond memories of. Two more steps and it finally clicked. Mom's old 'Jasmin Eua de Parfum'.  But from where in the world was it coming to me now?  I hadn't seen a bottle since..hmmm I don't know, sixth grade? I looked at the open door, brilliantly lit by the tube light in the street and found myself a little scared again. The November wind was consistently disturbing the curtain beside the open door  and it reminded me of another fear I had locked away in my brains for quite a long while. When I was young I used to imagine every night that an invisible force would be waiting for me behind the balcony door.
Somehow I found myself drunk in anxiety as I approached the door. Nothing dramatic happened though. The neighborhood stood still as I waited for the imperceptible force to grab me. The scene was very odd. It reminded me of the umpteen instances when you walk into a non welcoming group and get the silent 'stare' from everyone. It seemed as if the world was urging me to close the damn door so that they can get back their normal selves.

That night I had dreams.....                                                                                         [To be contd..]

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The Female paradox

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them -  Genesis 1:27 [ No wonder people struggle to understand God. How can they if the 'female' kind is an image of Himself ]

Just as there are finger prints, there are women in this world. Unique and incredibly complex.  A casual trip to Veegaland [ a.k.a Wonder La ] is what has inspired me to write this note. An year ago I was in love.  Yes ,Yes. submerged in the sea of love. And I still remember pushing my 2 month old punto to the very same amusement park and the subsequent romantic evening, as if it happened yesterday.  For an average Indian desperate male, even the role of a driver can be a very stimulating experience.
Here I am now, sitting 'single' in the balcony of my house, struggling through Dr.John Gray's "  Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus. "  [ Trust me.  One must be VERY disturbed to read that sort of crap ]
Men may prove that E= Mc^2 is wrong. Might travel backwards to see the big bang. Create a restaurant at the end of the universe.  But when it comes to women, men will always remain clueless. 
Do NOT 'assume' a girl to be like your guy friend. It never works. A sentence, a phrase, a word, for that matter even the colour of your T-shirt can be interpreted in infinitely different ways by her. 
For example : SMS Scenario # 1


Girl : Hey whaddup? [ Apparently there is no such thing as grammar and spelling when girls text. Don't try replying in the same manner though. ]
Guy : *writing an assignment * What else is UP on a hot sunday afternoon :-/
No reply
No reply
Guy : Err ..you alive ?
No reply
Guy: Hei!

Guy goes to the 'sent items' . Retrospection beings.
Guy: *to himself*  Damn. Shouldn't have used the bloody emoticon.  Oh shoot. was 'UP' in caps. She must've assumed I was terribly corny. The sentence does look terrible and not cute. Lord!

Next day morning 


Girl: Never EVER talk to me like that. 
Guy: Hei I'm sorry, I did not mean to be corny.
Girl: What corny you moron! When someone asks you something ALWAYS reply positively like " Hei I am doing good," and then ask " how are you? " , understand? I was feeling terribly low yesterday. And you? Always cruel !!!


Unpredictability runs in their blood. Tell a girl ' I love you 'and you are being mushy and boring; don't and a message will come someday, saying " if only you had said how much you loved me BACK THEN." With women, even expecting the unexpected won't work.
Pamper them- you are being possessive; give them the space and freedom- you don't have enough time for them. Be stubborn and frank - you are the chauvinist;  adjust - you have no backbone.

Which reminds me of a story my granny once told me. After death one goes to this purgatory [ or hades or Limbo or whatever it is called ]. Below is Hell, Heaven above.  There would be a rope connecting you to heaven. Thickness of rope directly proportional to your good deeds. Initial thickness is equal to the width of your hair[ so shampoo your hair regularly].  If the rope breaks while you are climbing , you fall down into hell [ and hence working out wouldn't be a bad idea].
Lets assume that heaven in the story means a happy,satisfied girl. Chances of you 'reaching' there are as slim as that rope. So only make an attempt when you are sure that your hair is strong and that 'heaven' is worth the trouble. Hell as we all know is quite simply hell.
There are examples wherever you look. Take Sorjini Naidu's " Queen's rival ", the story of the unsatisfied queen Gulnaar.  Her husband does everything possible but she still says "O King, my heart is unsatisfied." Until one fine morning her kid snatches the mirror from her. Talk about making the King, a complete ass! Women are complicated.
Think Cleopatra of Egypt, Helen of Troy[Sparta]. All mean self-centered women who made men go crazy. But somehow my mind keeps jumping to that utterly insignificant scene in Nicolas Cage's ' It could happen to you' when Muriel's Indian architect says " Women! You can't live with them. OR without them! " And that will always be the case. Perplexing She might well be, but Men will always be fascinated.

A woman can say more in a sigh than a man can say in a sermon.  ~Arnold Haultain

PS: This is a very personal blog .Attempts at "being funny", as i like to call them.  Do NOT take the contents seriously. In fact I do think guys are worse. [ which should be quite evident from the post :P ]

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