Away from Everything..At No Man's Land!

A short break from everything. Not just from work, but from the normal way of life itself. From TV and all kinds of electronic equipment for entertainment, from Facebook, LI, and other myriad ways of staying connected including mobile phones. 

I never imagined living for a few days without mobile phones and electricity, but that’s what I did when Tony and I went for a short break to Gokarna to ring in our first wedding anniversary.

Gokarna is a beach town in northern Karnataka. I have heard a colloquial usage, in Malayalam, of the word Gokarna to imply a no man’s land. Though a popular pilgrimage destination for Hindus, for the tourist without a spiritual objective, it is indeed a no man’s land or rather a land without the modern, commercialized conveniences.

Apart from the holy beach of Gokarna, there are 4 more beaches in Gokarna. Aum, Kudlu, Half Moon and Full Moon aka Paradise beach.  While Aum beach remains the most happening beach resembling the night life of yester year Goa, other beaches are very secluded and non-happening for the ones who like the quiet and solitude. The Half Moon beach and Paradise beaches are not even accessible by road. A long trek up and down a hill awaits the sporty and outdoor loving folks; others have the option to reach there using speed boats.

Our objective was to get to the most secluded beach and hence we started a trek to Paradise beach from Kudlu. After leading the broiler hen life for so long, it was not an easy trek and I almost lost my breath by the time we reached Paradise. The accommodation facilities here are shacks made out of dried coconut leaves and mud polished floors. Just the basics! As much as the beach was secluded, we were surprised to note that there were no available shacks. A group of the new age hippies had come the day before and occupied the entire facilities in the beach. No wonder this beach is known as the hippie’s paradise. Unable to make another trek with the heavy back packs under the hot sun, we hired a speed boat to reach the half-moon beach. May be because of the weaker positioning as a secluded beach compared to Paradise, ironically, Half Moon was the most secluded beach of all, with a handful of shacks thrown in here and there. We talked to the shack operators and gladly occupied a simple shack with a rent of Rs. 100 per day- just a roof on the shoulders.

As much as the idea of doing nothing, except swimming in the sea, sun bathing and lazing around in the shades for a few days, was appealing; the food available there ( rice and dhal, cold beers) was not enough for us. So we decided to take a trek in the evening to Aum Beach to have a dinner of fresh sea food along with a couple of beers. The restaurant in Aum beach, where we ate a continental breakfast before trekking up to Paradise, was beckoning. I still can’t seem to forget the pomfret, grilled prawns and king fish we had from there any time in the coming few decades. To top it off, there was a lovely performance of fire dancing by a group of daring foreigners at Aum Beach.

This was pretty much the schedule for the next couple of days. A trek up and down a hill from Half Moon beach to Aum in the mornings for a continental breakfast, same pilgrimage repeated in the evenings for a mouth- watering dinner of sea food dishes. The time in between filled with swims in the sea and sun bathed naps along with cold beers of course!

A few days of doing nothing, staying away from the rat races, and staying away from the social oxygen. Woah…so much for being a Millennial!!

Feels like Christmas

Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fire-side and his quiet home! ~Charles Dickens, The Pickwick Papers

Remember, if Christmas isn't found in your heart, you won't find it under a tree." -- Charlotte Carpenter

It feels like half a life time ago
That we celebrated Christmas by making a crib and decorating a tree
Now there are no cribs and only plastic Christmas trees,
But it feels like Christmas again

It feels like half a life time ago
That Christmas brought in joy and cheer with family
Now I am far away from home,
But it feels like Christmas again

It feels like half a life time ago
That I made merry with other kids during holidays
Now there is no one left but me who is not grown up
But it feels like Christmas again

It feels like half a life time ago
That we took those mid night walks to the church on Christmas night
This year, it would be just a memory as old days are gone by
But it feels like Christmas again

It feels like Christmas again
Though no Lents or long holidays or family near by
Though the moments of making cribs and trees are just memories
It feels like Christmas again

The star is lit in my mind,
The baby will be born in The Crib of my heart

So, it is gonna be Christmas again

On love- as I know it !

I am fighting a battle. The weird thing is I am not fighting anymore. But the battle is still on.
And I am not able to get out. I don’t have any idea which side is winning or which side is losing.

I am in love with this battle. The battle itself is love. All that remains is love.

Love never dies. Love ends; but never dies. The love that has been shared is never reversed. It remains as it is as long as eternity lasts. Love is eternal.

I have loved- loved with all my heart. And still I do. But the great question answered by silence is –am I in love. Being in love is a state-which can change. I have just an answering silence.

But my love for you is always there. With you, all I know is to love. All I am capable of is love.
We have lost a lot of things- hopes, passion, understanding, happiness.. but love still remains. All this has begun and all this will end in love.

Love is just not an end in itself. It is a journey that we chose to take.

We don’t know where the journey ends or the bend in our road.

We know the pain of separation for we have separated and come together again. That separation was not the end of our lives albeit being undesirable for me.

But now we know, separation cannot kill us or the love that we shared.

I am perfectly confident on you - you don’t need me the way I used to imagine when I was a perfectly naïve female.

And I don’t need you in my life any more as I used to imagine. I don’t need any body for that matter. But if I need any body at all at any point o f time, I’d rather be it you.

Well, is that what is love? Or is it just an open declaration of my comfort with you? Or can that be the acknowledgment of my fear for the unknown?

Unsure about many things, but I can assure of this- years and years hence, I will be saying this with a sigh and a wandering eye that I have loved- a love that is lasting. That remains as long as eternity lasts.

And I am happy for the moments of togetherness, moments of separation, for hopes and the lost hopes, for the flush of excitement and flood of disappointment, for the lightheartedness and the heavy heartedness that this love has given me.

For the reason that without this love for you, I would never have known what loving like this meant.

Home Coming

Though it was after a lot of months -that flew away just like a few-that I retreaded the all too familiar path leading home, I saw nothing has changed. Well, a lot has changed actually-mindsets, relationships, times.. Even the topography. I walked down the familiar path in midst of chaos- through a debris of shattered hopes and dreams that were leading into a void. May be that is the reason why it took me so long to walk this path once again. But finally I had to and so I did!
The rubber trees in the estate along the road are getting replanted. Instead of the huge shade providing trees, I could see a lot more tiny saplings. The jackfruit tree at the river bank is also gone-with nothing to replace. But now, there is a clear vision-of the other bank and also a long way up of where the river is coming from. Now I can clearly see the wooden bridge a little upstream. Or is it a new one? Could be! But I can see that right now it is not functional. Though it looks straight and sturdy from the river bank, it is slightly faltering. One of the supporting pillars is gone with the flood. The only purpose of the new bridge now is to give an old world charm to the whole scene. Ironical!
The week passed very quickly.One of the days, it rained. Don’t know if a rain in the beginning of November is a surprise or a routine. Don’t remember any more. The rain continued for more than 2 hours. And it looked just like routine with little rise in the river water.
In the middle of the week, the phone rang way past mid night. In an instant, I knew it was the death bell. Another of those familiar and most beloved faces vanishes from the face of the earth, yet will be remembered with fond memories.
Soon, it is time for the return journey. I know the feeling of regret of leaving home is mutual. After all, it is here that I was loved and I learned to love. This is where I dragged myself on my belly, I tottered and fell, and I rose and learned to walk. It was here that I started to dream, to believe; to judge- this is where I grew up. This is where I started on every journey that I embarked on. This is where I returned after every such journey. The hostels were great, Sai Teja is delightful; but this place is Home.

Gone Are Those Days...Live In Memory Always..

Gone are those days…But live in memory always…
When Jan came with the school anniversaries and the church festival..
I bought spring bangles from the festival stalls in the church for my anniversary dances…
When Feb came with revisions in school, one chapter a day..
I have to answer or I am caned.. Oh!!! How frightened I used to be…
When March came, with the sun soaring high, water level diminutive..
And I.. I write my annual exams and sigh many a sighs of relief ..
Gone are those days…But live in memory always…
Along comes April.. with the Palms Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and the Easter..
Busy days indeed with prayers, way of the cross, gathering at ancestral home and late night Holy mass
I go, I pray, I walk, I eat, I talk and I listen…Jesus crucified and resurrected…
May comes and goes with tours a, games ,getting new books and school uniforms..
It is very hot indeed and the stream is dry… green and ripe-mangoes in all forms…
When June comes..The school reopens and so does the sky..
It is pouring cat and dogs on the Monday morning, I am wearing my new uniform!!!
Gone are those days…But live in memory always…

Comes around the corner-July.. So does my birthday, another set of mid-terms and sometimes, a fever..
August is the month of Independence, a little outdoor activity in the form of clearing school ground..
Probably a speech competition on Patriotism, an essay or recitation competition of the Panchayat..
And with small tricolored flags stuck to the cycle handle, I am on road the whole day..
When September comes with Onam.. and brings along Maveli and exams..
I don’t remember the exams, but after exams..we go flower hunting…
Flower carpeting of DCL, YMCA, Chittady Library.. From one place to another..
With loads of flowers, chirathu, accessories and of course trophies too:-P
October came with Pooja vacation, tours, art festivals..
When November came with a lot more friendships, fun, happiness and smiles…
Gone are those days…But live in memory always…
When came December with Christmas, cribs, x-mas trees..
the promise of a new year, holidays and temple festivals…
Gone are those days…But live in memory always…

Home Is Where the Heart Is...

My first memory of home is a small house of bricks painted blue. There was a small living cum dining room which had a big window covered with a grill. The grill had the figure of a peacock in it. The peacock was painted blue and green, and looked very much alive. We used to call that room the peacock room.

The house was surrounded with trees of all varieties. There was a big guava tree falling on to the roof top of the verandah. Since it was slanted, it was easy to climb on top of that tree, on to the roof. And once on the roof, one could see the huge mango tree to the other side of the house, in all its glory and majesty. If looked at it from the ground, one could see the huge trunk only. It was so big that one used to wonder if at all it had any branches and leaves on top of it. But looking at it from the top, one realizes, yes, it is a full-fledged tree with lots of branches and leaves and still eager to grow higher up into the sky. 

These were not the sole inhabitants of the plot of land around my home. All sort of fruit bearing trees, that one could imagine, lived there amiably and peacefully. Just like a perfect, big family. There was mulberry, champakka, panineer champakka, cherry, muttapazham, passion fruit, Ololikka, a number of coconut trees, yet another guava tree, and a couple more of mango trees. Now the readers would think that we were prejudiced towards fruit bearing trees. That was not the case. Though not many in number, there was some flower bearing trees and plants as well. There was a big pink rose, jasmine, ashokam, elanji and the flower that blooms in the night- nishagandhi.

In the popular (among us) stories of my mom about my family and home, there is a story about these trees too. It is said that when my dad bought this plot, there was only a couple of coconut trees there. Once he built the house, he himself planted all these trees though it was doubtful for many, if so many trees in such a small plot of land will bear fruits. Just as soon as the trees started to place their roots firmly in the soil and started thinking about growing and expanding, the great draught, of the year I was born, stuck. 

The brook (about which a great many stories follow and will be told some other time) that ran just behind my house went all dry. The Well, just beside my home, followed suit. It was so hot, dusty and dry that the trees started feeling thirsty. They grew week, dry and all weary. That was the time utmost care was needed to make sure that they don’t die or grow retarded. So my dad went up the brook, fetched water from the temporary small wells made all over the brook, carried the water on his shoulders, and watered the trees throughout the evenings. Thus he made sure that the trees survived in-spite of the fire-spitting summer dragon.

In front of the house, was the long, winding KK road connecting Kottayam and Kumily. This was and still is an important road of trade and commerce in Kerala. This was the road travelled by Britishers when they set up huge tea estates in the High Ranges of the Western Ghats in Kerala. The same road that the Irish father of Plantations, J J Murphy , took when he went to establish the first successful Rubber plantation of India. Later on many a ’son of the soil’ took this road with ambition and zest in mind, to make their own kingdom of spice and rubber plantations, which marked the richness of this land for decades. Of all the characters that have been described so far, this was the only character with some sort of prominence to people outside this locality. On the other side of the road is the huge, thick and lush green rubber plantation of Chittady Estate.

Another important character of this geography has already been introduced earlier- The brook. This was the entertainment spot for all the children in the surrounding area. The ways of entertainment varied from fishing to two hour long swims in the afternoon to patented water games which would be unheard of in the outside world. This included kallittankuzhi, vellathil chattam, ‘swimming with changadam’ and scores of others. This brook bordered the backyard of my home. Across the brook was again a huge, thick, and lush green rubber plantation.Thus, this house of blue bricks surrounded by all the above described topography served as a home for me, my brother, my mother and my dad for the first 10 years of my life.

All things, good and bad or great and small, will come to an end. Most of the times, they give way to better things. Now, we were moving away from this house to a portion of another house in the same neighbourhood, so that this house could be destroyed, demolished and erased out of memory, and a new, concrete house with two floors could be built instead at that place. 

The evening we were to leave from there, there was a frenzy of activity all around. Packing, moving things, disposing of the hens and it went on and on. That was when I tried to retrieve something precious from the bedroom me and my brother shared. There was a poster of two monkeys-mother and kid, I got from Balarama, which I had pasted on the wall. Carefully, I tried to take it off the wall. It wouldn't come off. Soon, it was time to leave, impatience overtook carefulness and I tried a little hard. It tore off from the wall. Then I cried, I cried bitterly all the way of the small walk from my home to the temporary abode where I was to live for the next one year or so. I cried for the first time in my life for leaving home.

P.S: There would be many a times in the chronicles of my life (some past and some yet to come) where I would be crying bitterly, at least in my heart, for leaving home.