Thursday, September 27, 2007

My Eco-Friendly Shoes

I had a Pair of 2 year old, rotten Reebok shoes. It is in a wretched condition. Rainy days my Reebok emit rotten smells. I hate to wear soaxes. Normally I put my shoes in the portico when Iam back from work. Every kid who visit our house had an irresistible thirst to kick my shoes to the corners. While Iam fed up with these monsters I decide to put my shoes in the dark, damp corners of the portico. I place it nicely inbetween the old jars and useless utensils. Few weeks back when I rush to put my legs into the Reebok I felt something touching in my toes. With a shrill I take my legs back. A lovely little frog jumped out, few seconds little frog looked at me and then it leap through the leaves. Few days back I found the same frog in my shoes. Last day I found a Cockroach in my Reebock.Today I found a white lizard. Tomorrow???

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

The Man Who Sells Smoke

In a market driven, man made, mad world we have to confront different products for different use in our daily life. Streets were stinking with these stray silly sellers. Recently I had met a man who sells smoke. He simply do the daily fumigation job for the street side shops.He has an interesting instrument in his hand. He put the gum frankincense and other smoke emitting herbal, small grain like powders into this insrument and finally put the burning coal. After a few seconds suddenly the sweet smelling smoke emit from the instrument.Then he simply shake the smoke emitting insrument, with this swinging action he enter into the shop and spread the smoke to the stinking corners. Now a beautiful odour stay in the shop. After this highly professional job he collects his fees and simply enter into another shop with this smoke emitting instrument with a beedi ( a typical leafmade Kerala Cigarette)
in his lips. I adore him for his odour emitting smoke and his guts to live in this globalized globe.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

How to be a Paying Guest

In Indian culture a Guest is considered to be as a God. Athidi Devo Bhava. But the status of the solitary paying guest is different. Instead of a God he is considered to be a Ghost.
Normally aged couple considered him as a solitary sentry or a god fearing guard. At morning they put yesterday’s cold ‘putt’ on his dining table. They compel him to comprehend the home rules. They govern his given timings. They considered him as a broken bachelor. At night he walks pace up the pavements to keep the peace. Otherwise
he had to confront the cruel dog. He walks like a dead man walking towards singing stairway. His jutting dwelling welcomes him like a mouse on a hole. After a shower on the stinking bathroom he changes the lid of the litter (food). At the day break they call the paying guest to fetch the grocery. At the end of the month, they crawl up the moss eaten stairways to collect the strange man’s sum. They laugh; crack a crazy joke with the junior. They bless him! Athidi Devo Bhava

Friday, September 21, 2007

A human interesed story

Last day i had met a middle aged Tamil couple at the periphery of the park. I was on my way to the wayside makeshift teashop which serve milk tea and Bonda( a ball shaped, typical Kerala snack). Usually on my wayback to home I dropped here to eat this Bonda and the over sweeted milk tea.A simple luxury.A Tamil couple pleaded me to write a petition for them to the park police station. I hesitated for a few moment after a few seconds my hand take the momemtum. Tamil woman explained me the whole story. The man is a headload worker near NGO quarters.He used to be play cards on his idle hours with idle auto-richshaw drivers like any other headload worker.This time he palyed with his Chengalchoola pal. After few rounds poor headload worker got kicks and ill words from his pal. I had wrote the words. They marched towards the park police with scrampled petion paper.I overheard the woman who says " Look, its your 133333th petion on the same matter"
Yea we are humans. I think!

Words and Images

Symbol of love
symbol of death
she got a bunch of roses from him
He got a bunch of roses from her
They nicely put a buch of roses on my coffin
They scattered withered roses on my tomb
Submerged with love and hatred I resuurrected
They pluck the rose bud from my green
( Will Continue....)

Thursday, September 20, 2007

How to be a Model

Yester evening we had a model shoot. Not a big deal. A small scale photoshoot for a jewellery job. At 3.30pm a novice model and her south-indian amma came in an auto-rickshaw.
A lolitha like figure. They had a particular walking and talking style. Lolitha smiles a lot. Her ruby red lipstick licked lips parted at every individual. Amma was exhibiting her tenderness to her baby on a nauseating way.Crew took her care and take her to the shooting spot. Oh god...Achu your hair...Amma yelled at her back. Lolitha got irritated, she muttered some words. Reflectors, Camera, Make up everything ready. She came to the spot like a model on a ramp.
Eager eyes watching. Our cap crazy art director try to teach her some arresting postures. Lolitha laughs a lot to hime. Like a typical art director cap crazy patted her back and said babe you can...just do it. All ends within a half an hour. They marched towards the parked auto-richshaw with waving hands and whitewashed mouths. After our tea-session I asked my boss
Boss how experiened is she? With a puff and whiff he told. Its her first assignment. Dear Lolitha good luck.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

How to be a Baby Sitter

Iam not an experienced babysitter but a few weeks ago I had started this idle duty to my son. Normally i do read three or four trash magazines when i sit besides him. In West you can avail the service of professional babysitters. I had try to contact my service agencies to connect with a professional babysitter. No chance. So i armored with feeding bottle and brand new Snuggies and marched to the room like a solitary sentry to a cursed solitary post. The new born is sleeping like a Maharaja of Travancore attending with bunch of bountiful service men and women.I envied him for his naive sleep.At the middle of night he starts his daily routines ,blinking to the tubelights , regular exercise and starting nightlong crying. I try to pacify him by singing horrible lullabies. Rararo...Rararo...After these horrible nights i went to the office with black circled eyes. These the colleque guys told me that they usually heard Rararo...Rararo...from my cabin. Now I became a professional babysitter. Rararo....Rararo..Rararo.......................

Being a husband

Honda Activa Diaries

Dairy 1
I think you had seen Motorcycle Diaries, the great movie which visualise the great journey of Che and his friend through L.America. Like you I also admire the movie but my Honda Activa Diary is different from their marvellous journey. After daily abolution i start my petty jorney to my petty office on a pretty Honda Activa. Normally i have to stop three signal rounds to reach my office. Office? no a dark room with two computers and three good for nothing guys. Oh great you got it is a highly creative ad agency ha ha ha. Sorry for the delay the black beauty is a gift from my F.Law. I call it a voyeristic vehicle, because normally i peep into the saree fleets of my fellow travellers beautiful wives, daughters, cousins, aunties whatever it is. I adore that beautiful white ( Honey red) underbellies. We should salute them. While i was engaging in this pleasure my voyerstic vehicle twice try to kill me. First a near death accident with KSRTC Bus. Second a chance to fell a PWD well. But I love my journeys.
( will Continue)


Once Augustine Strinberg, the great sweedish playwright wrote Fatherhood is an Illusion. I believe so. When i received my new born in my trembling hand i shudder with wonder. After some moments i regain my senses and heard whispering of Mother. 'He seems to like me'. Oh God the fucking father is out.


Imagine a solitary bench in a park. You are sitting there surrounded with rotten elders. Doing nothing. Simply watching kids and lovers. Occasionally a bird will fly over your head. Adoring the beauties of the nature. Your bench is also a rotten one, moss inflicted it damp sides, a fly rests its ugly wings to the corners. Maybe the opposite bench elder sitter would be munching some peanuts. Doing nothing. Nowhere to go and noone to come. Suddenly you will feel your bushy hair became white. Peanunts in your hand. Whispering wind. With a deep sigh you linger into the bench like a rotten leaf


Daily routine of the Reader begins with try to read his yester night’s ugly dreams.
Like a book written in an alien language most of his dreams decipher nothing to him.
He closes his Book of Dreams without a book mark. With a cup of milky tea Reader swallows the day’s first word intake. Murder, theft and other crimes is his favorite brew. He read the editorial. It is always complex to comprehend. But he still read it, like an obedient student he still remembers his English Teacher’s remedy upon his bad English. After his daily ablution, Reader ready to embark on his Black Honda Activa, it is a gift from his Father in Law. Reader is on his way to his favorite libraries, situated at the three corners of the city. On the road he tries to reread his favorite bill boards.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Now Running Booklist

The Serpent and the Rope - Raja Rao
Visitors- Anita Brookner
Essays of Elia- Charles Lamb
Buddenbrooks- Thomas Mann
Steppenwolf- Herman Hesse