The Old Leaky Surkhi has a Way of Stopping Me. . .

The gushing water had no answer from the improbable wall

It kept thinking, I am to be stopped

I would be stopped, I have been ever

The old leaky Surkhi has a way of stopping me. . .

Beginning its misty journey somewhere around the slopes of Sivagiri

Soothing itself in the tranquil cadence

Philosophizing through the caged zoos

The long arduous journey ahead.

Somewhere the surkhi lime has a way of stopping it, couple of hi’s

Eastward ho! Is then the journey

Calmly through the caving tunnels

Till promised sea of Arabia; peace with thine forefathers

So began the journey, exchanging pleasantries with animals or two

Joining hands with its dear was part of the idea

This was no different

So began the journey

The friend below had been a bit upset lately, some mild sneeze and couple of coughs

The friend must take some rest

Turning on its own forever is not a great idea;

The friend below was now taking it easy and the calm was a good excuse for a sleep.

The upsurge in its way is not uncommon, though this was a bit surprising

The sudden fit of the friend has wakened it from a soothing dream

The speed was catching up

The sight was blurring down

The surkhi lime is approaching fast, and it wondered about saying ’hi’

The friend below, it wondered, had got into a bad mood

Nor could it understand why the surkhi is growing down

May be the surkhi is playing its old leaking jokes. . .

The force was untenable, its thoughts blank

The sound was bludgeoning

It desperately tried stopping itself

The forefathers are waiting, as it desperately sought its old leaking pal Surkhi

The gushing water had no answer from the improbable wall

It kept thinking, I am to be stopped

I would be stopped, I have been ever

The old leaky Surkhi has a way of stopping me. . .

Aravindan

cultural voidness

The ‘greeny’ ruddy video faded out to black in the 19 inch screen of the monitor. I tried my level best to not open my mouth to divulge the bafflement inside my mind. The bafflement is not at the quality of the images captured in the tranquility of DSR 400, but on the fact that despite my masters degree in English language and literature its very difficult for me to recapture the true essence of Onam in that language. I might say it’s been celebrated in memory of our great mythical emperor Mahabali, and then I might go straight into Barthes and his thoughts on myth (sorry I don’t even remember that). Oh! Heavens where am I at the end of this five years of familiarizing myself with this Anglo- Saxon tongue. These people have protruded their tongue so wide that it has become difficult for all of us both Mangaloids and Negroids to push a day without cleaning that tongue.

Indeed what is Onam, at least what is Onam for me? Its not a festival that comes regularly on a specific date or a specific month, for sometimes it comes early in august or at other times it comes lazily at September, and since I’m not an expert in astrology and that sort of stuffs I cant predict exactly in which month it comes in a year unless I get a quick glance at the calendar. When I was a student (sad that I’m no more one) Onam was a ten day vacation that is celebrated with lots of TV programs and a grant feast with plenty of dishes. Surely Mahabali is one of the most widely accepted cultural icons that bind the varied and disparate malayale psyches collectively. Indeed his is an image that is buried deep in the collective unconscious of all “Malayalee” folks. In spite of knowing these facts I still feel an incompleteness in my knowledge about my culture, my ethnicity and my folklore. But whom should I blame for this voidness, what all things constitute this void? Is it that difficult to answer these questions?

Hey guys, what's happening? Project/Term paper fever or what? Are you all bidding goodbye to Institute blogging?

Hello Everyone,

   My sister is getting married on 23rd may 2010, Sunday with Reghunath. The venue is Sree Padmam Auditorium, Airport Road, West Fort, Thiruvanathapuram. I invite your esteemed presence to bless her on this auspicious occassion. Please see the invitation letter below:

           

            

Do not miss TD Dasan Std VI B. Pass the message. Do this to keep the taste buds alive.

shashi tharoor: more sinned against than sinned??

Sorry 4 that cliche, bt we 2day c a man's fall being celebrated by our media. This was someone who represented India in the race for UN sec gen post and we see him being victimised for petty political gains and bussiness bigoteries of some.

Tharoor is not only a man with a distinguished diplomatic career but also a distinguished literary person with excellent rhetoric who easily handles n no of languages. He took the hard route of lok sabha election, where many wud have preffered an easy nomination 2 rajya sabha.

the man, i have my gut sayin more emphatically than ever, was victimzd and needs our backing. 2day we understand him nt as an hero or a savior bt as some1 like us let down by our system. i sincerely feel we need to back him in this hour of distress.

what do u guys think.........

A love Story

She was an ordinary girl. Everything she knew of Love is what she read , saw and heard in books, cinema and music. It happened all of a sudden, she fell in love. But then whats love? Is that sharing everything with a person, normally of another sex?

But it so came up that her love was not of another sex, but a girl.She was confused, afraid and perplexed. Her films dint gave her answers to her questions. They all pointed her to be guilty and abnormal. She was frightened to talk about the passionate moments shared with her beloved.


She felt at fault. Love is not a soothing touch for her, but life taking experience. She could not love anymore. The books, the films and the music she read never helped her. The normalcy went to the most abnormal and there ended her life and there ended her love.