Thursday, December 24, 2009

My Seasonal Greetings

Tuscany; roughly triangular region is one of the communes located in Central Italy. Situated, between the northern part of the Tyrrhenian Sea and the central Apennines. It is famous for Beautiful landscapes and artistic legacies. Regional capital of Tuscany is Florence. A few historians considered Florence as the Birthplace of Italian Renaissance. In Ancient Rome it served as Bread Basket once…Toscanini Music, It’s Literature, its dialect reveled her depth, richness and intense Life!

Santa Marian Church in Florence is known by its massive quality, its thick walls, round arches, sturdy piers, groin vaults, large towers and decorative arcading!It is an architectural style of Medieval Europe, Often called as Romanesque architecture and later evolved into the Gothic style. Marian church was located at the vale of a hill which changes its skin with the seasons. In the times of renaissance this church became a center of art as well.

In every year, Church is celebrated Christmas with a drama, House of Bread played in the drama house. Since the artists were new in every year, audience didn’t turn off by seeing the same drama for years in the season. Every girl in the church was dreamt to put on the role of St. Mary in the play. Even the presence of St. Mary in the drama was short; but her graceful appearance was enlightening. Rachel, a girl from the village of Florence played the character in that year. It was conversed widely about her at every corners of the commune. Some said character was apt for her by her beauty. Some said she revealed Mary’s true innocence. The following days after the play, she was keen about Mary’s life. Then she started to re-read The Holy book and tried to make out her character and life. She adapted her traits in her life. (Rachel was the lone daughter of a tuscanian farmer. Every morning, she walked with her father to their farm for their livelihood and it was one of the finest pictures of Tuscany life. In the evenings, she weaved long white clothes and embroider it with flowers and leaves. When she wore the fabric, people were doubted whether she was beatified with cloth or in other way!)

In the years of 1629 to 1631, there was a series of plague affected the cities of Tuscany. This epidemic claimed a death of 280,000 people from the region. German and French troops carried the plague to the city in 1629 as a result of troop movements with the thirty years war. Venetian troops infected with this disease retreated in the northern and central Italy and spreading the infection. During those years church was the hospice of the people of Tuscany. Infected tuscs were abandoned their homes and moved to the local churches. In those days Santa Marian church was overcrowded with the patients, Women and children, Old and Young. Church chants were mixed up with the cries. Priest sent a messenger to Rachel’s home to call her to serve these people at the church. She recited the word of God from Luke Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word. She went with him in haste and tried to console the women and children at the church. In every night she shared the stories of Hope and Love from the sides of holy Altar. Every eye was shined and filled with tears as they heard about the life of 'Job' from her. They gave praises to God when she enlightened that God knows about our state. After weeks, cries became prayers and then to praises. After a few months, doors of Santa Maria were opened to a better world. While going back to her home, Rachel sang

My soul doth magnify the Lord,

And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.

For he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaiden: for, behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.

For he that is mighty hath done to me great things; and holy is his name.

And his mercy is on them that fear him from generation to generation.

Your Christmas season; my warm wishes


Monday, November 2, 2009

Help Me;Please- A Victim's Cry

There was a time; Sundhar’s life was often began at the verandas of a nearby veterinary clinic. It was not for as what I was thinking. It was to get the attestation of his bunch of certificates for a Job. Really Doctors got fed up by signing on the certificate copies in every alternate days. So they started to pray for him to get a Job,

In General, fresh Engineers have a real passion to apply their engineering skills in their own field. Sometimes this desire may rise even in such a level to uproot some mountains. But it is common that these junior engineers were discouraged by some experienced old toothless lions! A humble man like him(Sundhar) had such a great interest in the first years of his contract Job. However He got chances to show his skills in those years. One day, Power transformer in his station was flashed over due to (?). Some stories were rumoured by some jealous guys connecting with him and flash over. Don’t believe it! So those days, power engineers like him were really busy with overhauling, testing & commissioning of the transformer.

On one evening, His senior engineer told him “Sundhar, Tomorrow we want to energise theStation. So finish all the pending works atleast by tomorrow morning”.(After two hours Sundhar also left from the yard to home). After he had reached home, he called his Sr. Lion and told “Sir, every pending work is finished,We can charge it in the morning itself”,.
“.Good, Sundhar”
“Thank you, Sir”..
.Good night...Ss sundhar ,
“(Between) You earthed the transformer?....”
“No sir”,“Then how we can charge(Commission) the station tomorrow”...
“Sir, Is earthing needed to charge the Station (?)”...
Sundhar!(A helpless sound)

In the next morning (early),even without taking his breakfast, he ran to uproot the new hill. Mother called him from the back... “Da, Go, but have something in the morning...” Amma, you don’t know how long it will take to earth a Transformer”. He stood infront of the shades of the only highrise building in his town. Street was not busy as usual. He often looked anxiously on his Titan watch and moved his neck to the right ! Bus is not coming....He cursed allBus operators in that beautiful morning.

He lifted his eyes from the watch by hearing a crash. A woman was fallen on the other side of the road, near to her; A scooter and two passengers (Seems husband and wife). He looked again at the right, Oh God, My bus is coming...In front of his face there were two
images and it left him in jeopardy; ....An unearthed Transformer and a helpless
woman. A helpless woman and an Unearthed transformer (Like in some old movies)
.He crossed the road and went near to her. Scooter passenger was scolding at
her, “
You don’t have eyes”! and Then they left from the scene in their vehicle. Sundhar looked at her, Her face was revealing her fear. She was frequently touching on her head. She was really looking slim and unhealthy...He asked her “shall we go to the Taluk hospital”... In her shivering voice she told him

No, I am working in these Tower, can you please help me to reach there..”He hold her hands and leaded to the stairs..She was so weak that she can’t even take two steps. He asked about her office... “I’m a peon in the Taluk office”...

Any one is there?”. “ One security is staying there in the night. He will go after i reach there”.. He went to the upstairs and told him the things. They took her down to the hospital...Nurses comforted her by saying.. “Nothing to worry”..Sundhar given his mobile number to him and told “If any help, please call me on this number!..

After a week, he had a new job application, He need to attest his bunch of certificates.. Veterinary doctor was busy in the clinic.. “why should I spend my time with the cows”..He
walked in hurry towards the Taluk Office...

It is not a news for me when a person is died in an accident.. It would be only a news when the death toll is rising to atleast ten in number !.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

My Friend,For you!

The element of spirituality which impressed me most is Compassion; Then the next in the periodic table is .......

I was walking like the jack in old axioms, through the shades of tall concrete trees. It was on a dark Wednesday; Street was a little busy than other days, people were walking with a long steps back to their lovely abodes. All the street lamps opened their eyes. I was stopped at the small corner shop for a hot tea and a bite. After Giving the order, I opened my phone for passing the time .Meanwhile i received an anonymous call; I couldn’t recognize the land from where the call was coming...Ya ,May be from Africa, I thought....Aliyo, What’z up. Ahhh, Aliyo & one what’z up ( I searched in my memory folders)...I got him from the folder ‘Collegemate’; Ashish. Mashe, where are you now... Nigeria,... For what! (I doubted), I have been here for last one month..Onsite. Nghe, What!... How did you get this job, Man....Why? In college days, i know how much you hated this C programming... Ha ha, That was a big story...Like in the college times we untied the stories of past, which were a bit of funny and friendly, other on small but serious concerns on politics,economics and education,even life after college(death!), ends with something about families & friends...I never know how long we conversed over phone on that day. But he surely knew how long!.That warm Call ended with a wish ‘will see you,Man’.

While travelling in the bus and even walking through the corridors of the apartment, Until I slept on that day,... My heart was full of the colorful memories of campus... Still I fond of it since Campus gave me a good number of friends. To whom we could open our deepest fears or thoughts. Sometimes they surprised with beautiful solutions!..It was such a cool feeling that there is a helping hand and a supporting shoulder for sure around us! Some were treasures of stories; Some stories were short, some were long, some were funny, some were fearful. In the middle of such a story, Ashish revealed about a personal guilt in that small hostel room! Da, You know I’m 90% happy and 10% depressed...His unexpected statement gave us a strange feeling. I told him, I know about your 10%...He glanced at me...Oho then tell me...Your 10% is that You are not up to the mark of your Mother’s dream!.Yes, you are rite!(He was stunned).He didn't know that I’ve Gift of vision.. ;) Behind every smiling faces there were crying hearts!(Isn't)...and Nobody is up to the mark of Mother’s(God’s) Dream (rite!).I pondered in that night how Our relations were budded; It was through some mischievous ‘para’kal (troubles) and by keeping similar mind set towards woman ;)

As an unknown author says;

A friend is someone we turn to

when our spirits needs a life

A friend is someone who fills our lives

with beauty, joy and grace

And makes the whole world we live in

a better and happier place

In that breezy December he travelled from Delhi just to see his old friends via Mumbai. We sat back at the shades of marine drive to untie the same old and golden stories of campus...In the middle; just reminded him about his 10% depression....Oh, you still remember it!

My Love to you


Saturday, October 10, 2009

Mathai's preach

Once an old man came to our town from the south and gave an unusual speech form the bus stand corner. Not like the contemporary street preachers.Very soft spoken and funny; all about Christ and Life. Our School manager invited him to our school on one afternoon to tell the same speech to us..The Only line in the speech i can remember is ‘when someone dies...Don’t say his air has gone(കാറ്റ് പോയി), Life is something more than air’

Pedagogue Mathai; There was (is) a man whose mind is full of thoughts, Like waves in the sea. Earlier times he got enough stages to express his thoughts of different wavelengths. But Now a days it was a little scarce. His fate can compare with some politicians who are looking for a space and time to tell their political moralities. Everyone knows it is an unlikely thing. (But Mathai is clever.)Now, Mathai depends on bathroom to do his ritual. A Colgate toothpaste and a mirror is sufficient for him to open wide his mouth. My beloved country men,.. Truly telling, His speeches are almost like him; both are unbearable.(Truth are all times sour!).

There was a rumour that Mathai delivered a speech in recent times at that bus stand corner on the topic Christian leadership in this changing world. I got an extract of the speech....

There is a saying that Change is the only thing that doesn’t change. But I’m amending the saying; Change is not the only thing that doesn’t change; but the word of God also!

Dear fellow travellers..I’m trying to share my thoughts on a deep and wide topic; Christian leadership in this changing world!.I’m put forth Three observations related to the topic for your thoughts.

Changing world is not a new thing! It is obvious and a continuous thing happening in the universe. It is very clear as from the beginning of the creation to Now; Now at the time of finding out water contents in the soils of moon!.What is the real mayhem in this time...

Real quandary in this changing world is the unevolved Man. One of the good books which gave a light on the attitudes of man in the BC is the Holy Bible. By the acts of first parents, First murder happened near the altar, Sodom’s deadly sins, Slavery in Egypt, Selfishness even in the middle of desert, Innocent blood at the Mount Calvary...Everything written in the Holy book is repeating in these times as it was; but in new names and new forms...Like Terrorisms or abortions. So Man doesn’t change that much in this changing world..

What Crisis is he creating to the Church....Now a days Man is stumbling the pillars of Faith of Holy church..As you know, In these recent years Man is preaching a different stuff of spirituality; Prosperity spirituality..This will dilute the essence of Christian spirituality!..

Secondly He is trying to change the virtues of the church which was casted on the Law of God! Most recent example is the verdict of Delhi high court!

How Church can deal with the unchanged man in this changing world! One solution!

The Church should hold on the Word, which doesn’t change, The word which gives the comfort, The word which leads to repentance, The word which gives light to our paths, The word of God! And to the Man who became flesh from the same word!


On the Next day morning, Mathai’s roommate Sarin koottala told in disgusting, I saw a lot of people snoring in their sleep, and even seen a few people who were speaking in their sleep...But First time in my lifeI'm seeing a man who is delivering speech in sleep. I heard ‘changing world’ ....a few times and one Thanks.

You would have to see the padagouge’s face at that time!.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Songs of joyappachan


I was vexed;

Of my wide roads which I always travelled by; Of my narrow one foot ways which I never walked by...

Dear Friend,

At the corridors of that school; it is written on a wooden board about the philosophies of Life. It didn’t make a sense to me in those times. But those are short; beautiful too. Years after; In recent times, when i saw it again in the shelves of a Gift house in our small town, I pondered its connotations. In a gesture of philosopher’s thick content full, my 10 years old cousin girl told me in bold underline. ‘Achaacha, Jeevitham oru Yathrayaanu’ (Life is a Journey).I know, she heard it from the Sunday sermons. I got doubted, whether it is the same priest for the last 15 years.

I derived a statement (equation) from the two old and popular axioms of life. Journey is beautiful. Though there were some unseen restrictions, those four years in college gave me a little more freedom to travel. Two beautiful destinations of those journeys were, one was nature and other was Man. In the evenings of Saturdays and Sundays, mostly we were out of the hostel rooms. There was always an inspiration for our journeys. Sometimes to know, sometimes to serve, sometimes to experience. Always it was rich and renovating ourselves...

Once we travelled to Johns Hospital, A hospice for mentally challenged people. I still remember the Men’s Thrivathira performed by us to make them happy. All were really doubted at the end of that Journey; who are really sick? We or They! Even there were some journeys to do a little tough labour. Who will forget that two heaps of crushed rocks at the roadside! One in the group put a comment by seeing the heaps. Oh, Ithre ullo. But later he suffered! Oh It was just like the dewatering of sea! While travelling back, we got the long back seat of the bus. Like an untuned FM radio, we started to sing the stories of Christ. It was spontaneous outpour of mind; Out of unknown Joy. Later it became a ritual of singing gospels in the journeys; until the Bus conductor commented it like; Song is good but Sound is unsahikable...

“We are not human beings on a spiritual journey
we are spiritual beings on a human journey”

                                                  Stephen Covey

My Love to you,


Father’s elder brother, One Mr. Joy appachan.. If we ask him to sing a song for a prayer, he will sing (!) his old and golden song... ‘Akkarakku yathra cheyyum zion sanchari’... Once, I stayed with him for two days...Both days he was singing the same song before the prayer...I know, throughout the year, he sings his one and only favourite..Once I asked him to change the song...Hmm,(Sighing)...Zion Sanchaari njaan...He started in a familiar ‘Ox’ raga.

Singing may be a heritable talent; But Is singing same song is so!

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Mother Francia

Example is not the main thing in influencing others. It is the only thing.”

Albert Schweitzer

Dear Friend,

I was brought up in a town where each and everyone have their own independent life. Even they don’t want to move to other families for a help. Sometimes they felt it would affect their prestiges. From such a times, I was moving from my town to North to pursue my graduation. That four years of learning gave me an opportunity to understand myself as a ‘Frog in Well’ as well as World outside of me is different and needy. The Guide towards this different world was a beautiful woman in my life; Mother Francia.

Mother(Sr.) Francia is a member in a community of sisters; Dharmagiri(?).Dharmagiri sisters are running a charitable trust under the name; Vikas. In the last years of my graduation I was a usual visitor of Vikas. They are bringing up a few tribal children there. Children were so shy that they always ran and hided under the bushes while seeing us! Those days when we first met her; Mother was actively involved in community services like giving awareness of cultivation, earnings, education and supporting families in a small colony financially!.we expressed our interest to work with her.

On the next Saturday, she called us to help an old lady .She didn’t tell much about her situation. In that morning when we came to the town, a jeep was waiting for us in the front of the MBMM hospital. Behind the Jeep,'Mother’ was sitting near to her new patient. On the way she told her story; It was tough to digest. Old woman was mentally and physically weak. Nobody was there to care her in her home. Someone in her neighbourhoods told the situation to Francia. She took the charge to nurse her!

So Mother, where are we going?”.Someone asked. “There is a Hospital turned Home at a place called njayapalli; near Thattekadu. she can get a good treatment there”. After an hour’s journey, jeep stopped at the front of that Big House. While alighting from the vehicle, old woman was struggled with pain. She sat on a wheel chair and sisters took her to the nursing room. We went with her to each room of that hospital to see the inmates. Behind each faces; There were stories. We listened to their experiences and life. It was a new world for me. I never expect too. Some were paralytic, some were mentally disturbed, Some were bed ridden, some were lonely. Mother was silently telling us “There is a World outside your campus and your family which is in Need”.

Mother was always happy by our presence and she started to dream big things. It was her initiative to arrange a seminar to empower a group of women in a colony!. Now I know; I missed her a lot!.But memories are rich. Whenever I visited kothamangalam, i tried always to see her. But not happened...She was always busy at Service.

My Love to you


 Once, Mother Francia was admitted in a hospital due to Back pain. Crazy boys like me and Emi used to visit her in Saturdays and Sundays to eat oranges. Where ever i go, I have a habit of showing off myself; I don’t know it is good or bad. On that day I took her (Loha) Holy dress from the table and tried to fold it. She told to some other sisters, “Nobody is here to get him out of this room”. I thanked God for her back pain; Otherwise!


Saturday, August 29, 2009

One day

Mother gave me birth to these dusty Earth;

My first cry raised the cries of these lands,

Opened my windows to a mysterious world;

Saw a few happy people around me!

But, I never cared these people in my life.


Waited some seasons to change;

From brown to green; and to yellow..

On that autumn, I walked out from my home;

To stay alone at the top of the dead woods in peace..

But still could hear the cries of these land;

But still could see the tears of the faces.


I flee from there to the mountain tops,

Hided in the dark caves for the peace.

But still could hear the cries of these land;

But still could see the tears of the faces.


I flied from there to the endless skies.

White clouds fashioned beauty to my eyes,

Stars at night, called on my sky abodes,

They enlightened my gloomy face

There were no cries to hear; no tears to see either.

Loved my new citizenships!


One day, shadows of death fell on my heart.

 I fell down from the skies of pride to this modest land.



Walked through the busy streets of my town

Was seeing thousands of alien faces;

Anxious and gloomy; curious and sad

But they never bothered each other!


There was an abbey at the corner of the street;

 Among the old men; I just stood in the front,

Chanted with them, the heavenly praises,

“Holy”, Holy”, “Holy”; from my heart.

I never worshiped like before.


My Childhood school was at its premises,

Walked through its long verandas

Sound of my boots, Stopped their learning

They peeped at me through the wooden windows

I heard a familiar call from the classroom, in delight.

My dear child, ”Where are you now”

Years after, I felt like a school boy again


My Home was not so far from the school.

Took the same old ways, which we used long years ago,

To reach at my lovable home...

From the far, I knew my cottage; Since time didn’t alter its beauty!

As I knocked its wooden door, My eyes was filled with tears of love.

So couldn’t see their cute faces!

Took their old wrinkled hands in my palm; my brought up hands.

I kissed it like never before.


One day, I fell down from the skies of my pride;

When the shadows of death fell on my heart!


My love to you









Monday, August 24, 2009

Where I am...



Where I am...

But I know, from where I was

I walked a far to come here..

Even I crossed the mighty mountains;

Swim across the roaring sea

Beat the thorny bushes on the way

Just to stand face to face..


I stood aside of a pillar which carved with murals..

There was a deep silence around me;

But only the humming of doves..

Rays from the east fell inside through the painted glass,

It drew images on the floors

Vivid dancing images..


Where I am...There

Where I hear the sounds of creation

Where I hear the grace of blessing

Where I hear the joy of healing

Where I hear the divine melodies

Melodies of broken hearts..


Where I am....There

Where I feel our fine looking Nature

Where I wet by the monsoon rains

Where I shine by the Yellow sunlight

Where I even warm by the snowfalls

Where I see the glowing stars

Which arises at the nights of life!


Where I am...There

Where I see my ugly reflections..

Where I always decide to walk straight

Where I leave my tears in drops

Where I change my color to white

Where I learn to put a Step

A dance step of my life!


Where I am...There,

Where the Fragrance of the smoke fills the air

Where my life began and will end

Where I can hear the lullabies of Bethlehem

 Where I can hear the cries of Calvary..

Where I always arise to Life


There I’m,.....Inside The Holy Temple

Temple of God!


My Love to You



Where I am...

But I know, from where I was

I walked a far to come here..

Even I crossed the mighty mountains;

Swim across the roaring sea

Beat the thorny bushes on the way

Just to stand face to face..



Friday, August 21, 2009

Naranathu Madman

Sometimes in my life,I need a man in my neighbourhoods to warn me that I’m Wrong!

Dear Friend,

Jean  Dominique bauby, The central character in the French movie, “The diving bell and the butterfly”  acted by Mathieu Amalric .Movie is directed by a notable painter/movie maker; Julian Schnabel in the year 2007. It is adapted from French memoir Le scaphandre et le papillon written by a journalist .Though it is communicated with the audience in French, Movie drew much attention from the public and carries away a good number of awards including Golden Globes, Nominated to  four academy awards and at Cannes as well. Movie is drenched in deep sorrows; but the message is one of hope

(Oh, I forget to tell, For the last few months i have been viewing and reviewing the world cinemas,J (but in a few number) to make out the way in which the world is trying to tell a subject. I wondered by the skills of different people who are going to the deep beauty of the matter with their camera. They are doing in a dextrous manner so that people are stick to their chairs with widely opened eyes. One good reason which i deserted from my regional movies is its extreme other perspective of showing the subject; unnatural and light version of the truths.)

The Diving bell and the butterfly is a story of a man(Bauby) who suffered a Stroke and lapsed in to coma.  Medical science tells it is a Locked in Syndrome. Twenty days after the stroke, He awoke to conscious mind. But he was completely paralysed expect some movements to head and left eye. Before, Bauby was an editor of Elle fashion magazine. Professionally he was a brilliant stuff. Director starts his movie by shooting his movements of the eyelids and the time to recover from his unconscious mind. Then our character understood that he is in a hospital care unit. Medical team is curiously looking at his paralytic face. He is responding positively to the doctor’s query that helps them to understand that he is not a Dead being. Later shots revealed his helplessness and dependence.( Like without his permission, once a doctor switched off the television). As the days passed by, there is no physical change to this man. But the atmosphere in that hospital room is changed. He knows everything, he feels everything, But Others don’t know what his feeling is!

Director introduced a new character in the movie as a Speech therapist in the later shots. It makes the movie powerful and universal. She taught him to communicate with the world by blinking his left eye. She arranged the French alphabets in a particular order such that frequently using alphabet comes at first and would recited for him(E, S, A, R, I, N, T, U, L, etc.). If that alphabet is correct, he will blink his left eye. She wrote each alphabet and makes a word and then a sentence. He started to communicate with each one at the hospital. As the movie moved front, it showed bauby’s personal life and achievements, fall backs & affairs. It was very touching when he portrays bauby’s relationship with father. Tears rolled down through my eyes when father’s phone call came to the hospital room. He spoke with him with the help of speech therapist .

Though appalled by his condition, Bauby came to realise that he had been left with an incredible gift. He still had the means to escape the "diving bell" of his stricken body by letting the "butterfly" of his memory and imagination take flight. Bauby desired to write an autobiography .Eventhough it is a strainful work, his girlfriend helped him to fulfil his dream. He told his all story with his blinking eyelid. It was a journey which ended in a Book. She recited each alphabets in the order of its frequency of usage.He blinked his eye at the right alphabet. She made a word from the alphabets...From words to sentences ..Sentences to paragraphs...paragraphs to pages..pages to chapter...From chapter to chapters. With Chapters she compiled a book....Book’s Title is The Diving bell and the butterfly... The book took about 200,000 blinks to write and an average word took approximately two minutes ... The book also chronicles everyday events for a person with locked-in syndrome. These events include playing at the beach with his family, getting a bath, and meeting visitors.As Julian Schnabel told, Bauby solved the problem: He turned a disaster in to something extraordinary

 He died two days after his book is published in French...I thought it was only a fictionalized movie; But .....

Jean Dominique bauby (Real Man)

Cover Page

Sometimes, Some people would tell bed ridden people are useless. So they are fabricating laws in order to kill them under the darkness of the closed room. They have given a cute name for it ‘Mercy Killing’. But Nobody knows what is their potential. Or Who will measure the value of their Presence!

My Love to you.


Once, But Recently our Naranathu 'Madman' was rolling a huge rock up through the streets. Diogenes’ met him at the middle of the street.

Diogenes’ hold his lamp at his face and asked, “ Oh, Mr.Naranathu?”

“Do You hear the latest joke”


“Babu weds Sabu ”

Naranathu roared "Boanerges, where did you hide your Thunder!"

Last month , our honourable Delhi high court reviewed the article 377 of our constitution. All of us may know about the facts and stories behind the amendments of the article. In short, now onwards the Law will protect people having ‘special’ sexual orientation. With all my respects to the judiciary body of my country, Loudly telling.....This amendment is against the Nature.. All the time Man interprets the things in his own interest. Man is constantly creating challenges to his existence and the nature..All the time i felt that our system is facing towards the West, where our culture, lifestyle even spirituality having a good difference. . .My belief is most of the citizens are sharing my view .

My request...

Those who can influence our Parliament, Judiciary and Beurocracy; Please do it in order to save our Mankind!

Blessed are those Men who love their women so passionately J






Saturday, August 1, 2009

victims of circumstances

My son is standing outside, drenched in rain. I still have no answer to the question of whether or not I feel vengeance. But I leave a question to the world: why are you making my innocent child stand in the rain even after his death? I don’t close the door. Let the rain lash inside and drench me. Let at least my invisible son know that his father never shut the door.

Memories of a father,
T.V.Eachara Varier

(Father of Rajan)

Dear Friend,
I’m Adam John, Just here to tell a story of me, "How others define me w.r.t my circumstances,i have fallen"...
I was joined in an Engineering college in the year 2000.Since my house is so far from my college, i decided to stay in a nearby hostel. Though I was in a Hostel, My brought up and memories helped me to stay back from the ‘bad’ habits. But unfortunately the fate was different. I was stamped as a drunkard by my Hostel warden, Fr. Markose. I cannot blame him since he had an circumstantial evidence for his conclusion. He caught some bottles of alcohol from my room on one Friday night. At that time i was not in the room. Then late that night, He dialled to my home and told to my mother about the incidents. "But Acha, He is in Home now; Then how does he drink there".. "Oh He came home, Anyway Teacher, have an eye on your child, Sometimes, his voice and accents was resembled of a drunkard .” J
One year after, there was a music program conducted at the Open air auditorium of my college. A good number of beautiful songs waved across the campus. My batch mates were putting steps for the music. I was one among them to act like ‘Jayan’ for the song, 'Kasthuri man mizhi.... After that program a rumour was flying across the corners of the campus, “For Sure, Adam John is a Drunkard”,” He is not a rat snake, But a Viper”. I still don’t understand, why they are thinking, People can dance only when their head was kicked out.

Years after, I was passed out from my campus. I joined in a firm where the official drinks itself is ‘Hot beverages’. Even they washed their face with the ‘Hot water’. I got a good number of friends from my introduction itself. They thought that I was sponsored by Beverages corporation of Kerala. One of the good intuition for their conclusion was ‘I am a Christian’!

Here in my new company, there is no difference. In the first sight itself, colleagues made up their mind as ‘For sure Adam John, a one and a half Drunkard’. They concluded it from the shape of my body, Fatty and a big round belly.At the corridors, they delightfully conversed each other in the break times...Don’t know, One ‘Achayan’ has come. Ha ha ...So one more member in our club..Still they couldn’t believe that ‘ I am not a...’My roommate was happy when he got me to share his room. The reason was obvious. My styles and gestures deceived him! You know, Our secatary has a conviction that drunkards are highly intelligent. Once she asked me, whether you drink alcohol. I replied, Your husband is highly intelligent. Rite!.

During my short vacation in the last autumn, Mother asked me, ”You have started drinking beer, haven’t”. I got shocked. My heart was broken in to pieces. We have been together for the last twenty six years, still she is doubted; even without knowing that she is my one of the reason of not doing it.
Why should I keep all this ‘virgin’ stuffs. To whom i want to please..So I decided to.........;

Now I’m sitting at one of the dark corners of my city; Diar Al Mina Hotel. When I came here, i looked around for the familiar faces, like ‘Thalathil Dineshan’ of vadakkunokki yanthram.

I was happy since nobody was here who knows me. I sat at the corner where the table is tidily arranged with flowers. And feeble illuminations drooped from the ceilings; its light resembles my heart. I partially hide my face with hands. A man in black suit came near to my table to take the order. My forehead was filled with the drops of sweats.

"Sir, May I help You! "

"A Beer please."

"Ok, which one."

(My face exhibited my ignorance), "Hawards"

"You mean, Haywards"

"Yes, One ‘Large’ Haywards,"

'Large' ! No, sir

"Then ‘Small', please"

‘Small’ beer! , You Mean, One

" Ah, ahhh , yes....yes .One ‘Mug ‘full of ....."

"One ‘Mug !"

"Why don’t you serve one mug or Jug full of beer here,man. Then How people are ordering here! " (I got annoyed)

" Sir,you are trying for the first time ?"He left with the order....

Really I understood the difficulties faced by ‘Thalathil Dineshan’.

'Please forgive me ,.I don’t know what to do', My mobile was ringing. I took the phone from my pocket. (An unknown number). I answered the call.

"Adam John Speaking...."

"Adam, Where are you, Man". A cool and firm voice (call has ended)

A close verse from the Genesis came up to my mind...."Who told you that You are naked (Drunkard). ?"

I stood up from the chair....

(I’m afraid, if i fall in the laws of the land. They will uproot me. It is not because the law is ugly. But...)

My Love to You


You may remember the life story of Fr. Benedict Onamkulam. - A Catholic priest of Chenganacherry archdiocese in southern Kerala state who has lived with the reputation of being a "murderer" for 34 years had his innocence made public .Father Benedict Onamkulam was sentenced to death in 1966 for the murder of Mariakutty-- a widow-- on the basis of "circumstantial evidence." However, on hearing the appeal made by the Church, the Kerala high court acquitted the priest for lack of evidence. All the same, the priest had to serve in a remote mission due to the "murderer" label, while even movies were made based on the role of the priest in the murder of the woman. However, the happiest moment in the life of the now-retired 73-year-old priest came recently when the 93-year-old widow of the actual murderer approached him recently pleading forgiveness and mercy. ; Aware of our rights and civil liberties

Saturday, July 25, 2009


Home is not a Structure; but a situation

Dear Friend,

Someone said like this....Home, The spot of the Earth, Supremely blest ,sweeter and dearer than rest of all . I have been loving and living in my home even before I heard the rhyme-- My Home, Sweet Home. Our 69 model tiled house was bought from an old woman who was was a nurse by profession... That old house with enough space was our kingdom on the Earth. When I’m trying to say that it is my best destination in the world, don’t think it was renovated with new technologies or with high end facilities. But it is still beautiful.

“Home is where you can say anything you please, because nobody pays any attention to you anyway”

In my childhoods, If I had a pencil in my hands; I would check whether it was ‘HB or 2H’ by drawing pictures on the house walls. As I grew up I drew sketches on the paper; but I pasted them on the same walls. After, I was asking to mamma, “how is it...” “Good work, keep it up”. Some other times we sang some old Christian songs so loudly under the roofs. Amma said a lie to me “You are singing good”..Later i was curious to hear my voice. So I recorded my voice in one rare ‘Kadamanitta kavithakal’ Cassette. I played the song on our Philips radio...I was proud of my voice until my father came for the next vacation. In those days my sister was a Margam kali artist in our school. She used to rehearse its steps in our home. When the ‘Thoma charitham’ was playing in the background, We also joined with her in the rehearsals. All these mischievous things which I was doing and am doing were learnt and supported from my Home. A man can feel his freedom or express his emotions at that edge of the world, The Home, Even if nobody listens you!!

There were frequent load sheddings in our town during that time. Those nights, our courageous sister used to cry like a cat.... "Mummyeeeeeeeeeeeeeee......pediyavunnu.."Why you are worrying, You are at Home, Aren’t!..But I was not feared; not because I was bold; but I would have already slept at that time. However our house is having false ceiling of wood throughout. So thieves needed a long time to storm in to our aged abode. But some other outsiders migrated over there. We gave work visa for the cats. But a terror animal migrated and stay over there for a long time,’ Tree-Dog’. In the nights it was moving on the false wooden ceilings. That created another occasion to cry like a cat for my sister. "Mummyeeeeeeeeeee.. pediyavunnu." So One day I hold an ‘Ulakka’ and vowed that one lion is enough in this Jungle. Yes, we felt Our Home as an extended form of womb; It protects!

Home was my kindergarten of faiths and beliefs. I always woke up in the morning by hearing her prayers. Most of our night prayers were sink in laughter. We laughed at each other on their mistakes in reading The Bible. Once they suffered to end their laugh while i was reading, they heard ‘Bharthave’ instead of ‘Karthave’ .All the times our mother got annoyed and angered, you are praying or playing? All family prayers were ended with bible stories, or light spiritual chats. My Home was my first Church.

At the times of my illness, Home served as a trusted hospice to me. I used to come to the comfort of my home, whenever I got sick. Half of my sickness would go, if I reached there. My home hugged a lot of people at their ailing times, since our house was near to the Town; relatives from the villages were came and stayed with us until they got well. My home has a power to cure!!

Sometimes it was an inn, other times it was a school of science and arts, or it was a food stall, or a playground, or a stage of performance, or my weeping corner!! Though there were differences in opinions, Home keeps us together! I could tell I was blessed (?) by having a Home.

As per Housing and habitat policy-’07, Home is a fundamental right .Kerala is known for its unique settlement pattern with independent houses on individual plots scattered and across the habitable areas, though it is a land scarce economy. Because of its distinctive social, geographic and climatic conditions, the centre of life of an average Malayalee for many centuries at least has been the house and not the village, with people favouring houses built on small garden lands. Once Marthoma Metropolitian wrote on his pages about a Japanese who came to visit him. He shared with Bishop that Like in Kerala, He can never think of Japanese having their own houses on individual plots. It may be a luxury for them. There is a tremendous pressure on land in the world.

Home is a Unique and common dream of every Keralite. Most of them even doing their job just to full fill that genuine dream...But recently I came across a fact that 500 thousand people in Kerala are homeless. Then I wondered what will be the count under nationwide or under worldwide... The contemporary crisis on this basic need of a man is the domination of market forces and they make it as a distant dream for common people. I believe everyone have the right to have his own shelter and was offered by God!

My Love to You


It is still in my ears what Sr. Felicia asked me; can you support us for One Home?

..................Dharavi,Dharavi ennu kettittille

From the land of Congo