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

Sunday, July 19, 2009

My Love,To my Bobyachan

 For him; but like this, the ways and the words......

Like falling manna; straight to heart. Experiencing the warmth of snow and cool of fire with the words, Short and simple form of God

Dear Friend,

Fr.Boby Jose Kattikadu----First time I heard this man in my college days. On that autumn, he ended his inspiring sermon like this... “Your Words shall be Blessings, Your Touch shall be Healing, and Your See shall be vision.” I’m still feeling the warmth and richness of the words. He modulated his voice in such a way that it was harmonising with the rhythm of the Nature. In the later years i got some audio files of his speeches from my friend. After the radio became obsolete; we came together in front of it only to hear his sweet sermons. I never thought before that, my regional language is having such a quiet nature.

The words which he keeps in his heart are gems of class. You might wonder how he is resonating with the frequencies of words and emotions. Of that reason he is much differ from the contemporary speakers (They may swallow the microphone in front of them).He wraps his words in melodious music and renders a fabulous treat to the listeners. His language is universal and soothing, truthful as well. I always thought that why our generation is fond of him. My inference is his sermons are full of silent revolutions. I damn certain, you never heard before such a different interpretations of the happenings in the Bible. Hear his version of John the Baptist’s Speech; Luke chap.3 verse 5.....5Every valley shall be filled(Drop Our Ego), and every mountain and hill shall be brought low(Go; Go back to our innocence); and the crooked shall be made straight (Be Truthful), and the rough ways shall be made smooth(Live by heart (love))

Or listen to the story of the crippled man sitting near to the pond of Bethsaida... Christ was asking, do you really have a real desire of healing? I felt His question was not relevant to a man who badly lost his 34 years; until I heard from him

I strongly believe that his sermons are not strike to shape from the monastery smithy. It is from the hot realities of the world. He is telling from what he is seeing from the streets of life. Then he is much common with Francis of Assisi. I cannot find any prejudices, any judgements, any indifferences, any wounding, any lies in his language; but only compassions. Even he is afraid to use the word ‘Sin’ Instead he is telling ‘Falling’. But he is annoyed by the uncompassionate & fanatic Christians who are shortened the faith & belief of other communities. His eyes are widely opened so he can see the beauty of rituals and customs. He is romantic with Christ; but he likes Buddha and Krishna. He is prophesying the religion of this century as Zen catholism (Knowledge + Love).He might have a good lateral reading that it fills with folk stories, scientific facts, immortal truths, Social figures and so on. In some extend it helped him to fabricate his Opinions in the light of Christ. Sometimes these opinions are not in line with the thoughts of church too. I saw this recently at the time of rift between church and the Government. But he expressed his views without any hesitation showing how far his words and deeds.

This priest is having a mouthful of words on Christ and Church. Christ as a conscious and church as a culture which nurture this consciousness. These years I have been reading his literary works; Sanchariyude daivam, Hridayavayal and Nilathezhuthu. His books are like ‘the fields’ mentioned in the bible. In the deep, treasures are hiding..

He had brilliantly drawn his mind throughout the pages. The way which the words are used is like a drizzling rain which would moisten our dried heart. It can stretch your folded wings and let you fly like a butterfly under the blue skies...or It would awaken your childhood virtues. Or reminding your boundless possibilities..Or Feels spirituality as nostalgic emotions... It would burn you like fire..Sometimes as a way food for your hungered mind .As V.G Thampi told it may quench your spiritual thirst. The Thirst to know yourself, The Thirst to enjoy in our insecure freedom and The Thirst to stand in front of the eternity. While reading, you can reflect your images as i saw the reflection of kingfisher in that pond. It makes you cry and laugh just like a kid..Vivid and nude! Or even It may haunt you for days...Like the hound of the heaven...You can contented with the thoughts of Water, Earth, Light & Life....

Open your ears, when he is saying A Traveller has his spirituality. Later I knew the traveller is he himself. Feel the comfort when he is saying that Crippled sheep and dove with broken wings having space in God’s heart., Later I am deciding to respect everyone when he is advising there is a ‘Guru’ behind all faces. I heard, Hey, Mister Look at the birds in the skies; I felt ashamed of my greed. My air has gone when i read that my egos are just air bubbles. There are tears in spirituality; when we are getting the undeserving gifts. I don’t know why it makes me crying! .He is complaining Men are hiding their love under some masks... I removed my masks and laughed at it...He taught me how to look at a woman by the story of a monk who lived at the mountain top... He asked me to do what you know, that is the most beautiful prayer. Then I start Writing. He is portraying the beauty of Death by telling about his friend, Anto. I am aware that every moment, I’m living as well as dying. He is saying in loud about the meaning of Sex and it holistic nature. Look your children with wonders; That is his lullaby. He explains when is your companion becomes your psychic need. Always Mariyam reminds him as the Rain in the twilight. I kneeled before her with reverence. Then he is throwing a pebble of question, who can forget a man who gives a Supper to remember him. He silently compels me to say ‘Manase’ to the unforgiving ones. My eyebrows stretched when he is asking to keep a fire in your words too. Silence doesn’t mean approval; but it means I’m dead... He is reciting a psalm for the rains..I am echoing the psalm from the far...because it fills my heart with memories..At the end he is concluding Love your life, with all its sour and sweet; Life is beautiful; It is divine, if somebody there to love you...He is praising My soul mate, you are God’s Fingers. From the deepest heart he is yelling...I love a man uncertain of his ends, like a fruit tree in April- About his fellow priests. There are endless thoughts to live by... He leads me to the streams of Grace...

No, I didn’t see him yet..I like to meet him in the coming winter.............Just to hug him and to whisper at his ear “My Christ in my Times”

Guru Dhevo Bhava!

My Love to You


 My greatest tragedy will be if I feel His absence, when i close my eyes


Thursday, July 9, 2009

Gentle Spirit




It was on one splendid dawn; Birds were flying towards the horizons.

The mist in the morning left droplets on the green bushes.

It was on that morning, I was walking through the long village roads;

Whose edges were covered with bushes all along?

As I fondled it; the drops of water from the tip fallen on my feet ;

Which washed away the dust of my journey!

I was only a little child then, so all the way I clamoured; I clamoured!

Just to wake up my quiet and drizzly Universe.

A Gentle breeze who was kissing the Earth whispered in my ears,

“Sshh................Keep Silence”.

But I was only a little crazy child then, So I went on!


It gently pleaded,

Beloved, I’m carrying the desires of pleasing people to Heaven

Of those who are meditating under the trees...

Of those who are hanging downwards on the branches,

Of those who are at the riversides and in the caves of rocky mountains,

Of those who are reciting the psalms from the monasteries?

Of those who are kneeling at the minster?


Beloved, I’m carrying the desires of pleasing people to Heaven

Of those who bowed their heads with pain,

Of those who touched their foreheads at the soil.

Of Whose eyes filled with tears,

Of Whose hearts had broken by,

Of those who covered their heads with scarf,

Of those who are crying under the roofs,

Of those who are holding the lighted candles!

Of those who drew the crosses with their fingers,

Of those who pressed their faces on the hospital pillows,

Of those who are standing beside the holy woods at the altar  

"OH My dear child, Oh My dear child.....

Shhhh.............. Keep Quite;

World is in Prayer”

Gentle Spirit smiled “Whisper your Prayers”

“My Prayer is My Self”

My dear universe, I’m flying to Heaven

I’m flying to heaven, Gentle Spirit carrying me to there...































Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Nombarathi Poovu


The purpose of life is to listen - to yourself, to your neighbour, to your world and to God and, when the time comes, to respond in as helpful a way as you can find... from within and without.

Fred Rogers

Dear Friend,

In the Year 1997.......

                   There was a portrait of 'Sacred Heart' which was framed in wood hung down just above the entrance of that Hospital. A few were standing below  with closed eyes and had lighted candles in their hands. The Entrance leads to a hall, where most of the visitors were sitting on the chairs; arranged in Lines. As my friend once said, You can’t see any happy faces at the Hospital premises. They were having a shaded face and waiting for their call from the Outpatient ward. Some were queued up near to the Pharmacy as well as enquiry box. Right of the Enquiry Box, There is a long corridor illuminated throughout with yellow lights, having white brackets.

                  There (at the Corridor) a Mother (Grace) and Son (Paul) waiting to see the Specialist Doctor(Oncology).Mother’s Face was weighing with pain and that made Paul uncomfortable. He knew her Mother very well so while leaving from the home, he told her not to come. Paul was looking at the Anatomy chart which was fixed near to the door. He saw a Spider weaving its web on the Anatomy Chart. He looked at its effort with a childlike curiosity. After a while nurse called his name from behind the half closed door. Both went inside and seated infront of the Doctor. After examined through the test reports; He asked straight to him..Have you seen any time before..He cleared The throat and continued..." blood came from root of the Teeth"....Paul smiled at him.. “Yes Doctor, When I brushed the teeth in the Morning.” “Ok, Any other time..”. “No”..Anxious Grace asked him, “Doctor, Symptoms of Cancer.” Paul and Doctor looked at her. Anyone can read the fear from her Face..(Paul knew that Fear is the Smile of Devil). “Nothing to worry, A small Count variations in the Blood. I will give a letter to Medical College. No Fear, Only to Clear my doubts” She came out with cries which no one can wipe off. ‘Poor’ Spider was still on the anatomy chart and weaving its web without knowing anything happened to Paul!!

     That Afternoon, She sat infront of the opened Bible and read out lamentation in the psalms. She shared the story with the praying communities. Later the Experts confirmed that it was just a mild Pneumonia. You should see her comforted face at the time of hearing the good news. Grace cries were heard by the Good God. Paul believes that Spider has stopped weaving its web on the Anatomy Chart.!!

But.........In the Year 1997

Flower of Sorrows (An internet Story-True)

 Alexandra Scott,a cute flower  was bloom on January 18, 1996 to parents Jay and Liz. Two days before her first birthday, she was diagnosed with neuroblastoma, an aggressive childhood cancer. When Alex was four, she was inspired to have a lemonade stand with the goal of raising money to help "her hospital" and in July of 2000, Alex donated over $2,000 to Connecticut Children's Medical Center.

When they moved to Philadelphia in early 2001 to pursue new treatment options. She continued her lemonade stand and her third year she raised $20,000 for Children's Hospital of Philadelphia in honor of her friend.

In 2004, Alex set a goal of raising $1 million for her lemonade fund. With the help of friends, family and strangers who hosted lemonade stands in all 50 states and a few other countries, Alex's goal was met. Sadly, on August 1, 2004, Alex withered away. However, before Alex passed away, she set another goal: to raise $5 million for pediatric cancer research in 2005.

Alex's Lemonade Stand will continue as a living testament to the inspiration one young girl provided.


My Love to You



"You're gonna be brave, right?" "Right." Diana, age 5, and her father share a moment before she receives her weekly dose of chemotherapy through a port in her chest, January 10, 2007


Diana is seen being stitched back up, post-surgery, on July 27, 2007


 "Seven months after her initial emergency room visit which led to the discovery of a tumor in her kidney, a surgery to remove the diseased organ, radiation and six months of chemotherapy, Diana sits in her father's pickup truck in the hospital parking deck ready to leave the children's hospital as a disease-free 5-year-old."