Vidyarambham

When I was offering prayers I could hear kids crying and screaming from the other part of the temple.Its Vijaya Dashami today , observed as 'Vidyarambham ' in Kerala , which literally means the starting of learning process.Kids at the age of 3 or 4 start their 'formal' education on this day.Being asked to pronounce strange Sanskrit lines scares the kids.I have vague memories of my Vidyarambham.I could recite "Hari shree Ganapathaye Nama: " even before the priest dictated because of my father's effort on the previous day.I glanced at my father's face every now and then and he nodded smiling.Writing the same in red rice felt like a game. ( I had tried this at home many times after Vidyarambham and had got scolded for spilling rice ).Then the priest wrote the same on my tongue with a golden ring.That was years ago.
I made my way through the crowd to get my book after Saraswathi pooja which had already started on the day of Durgashtami and lasts through MahaNavami.Those two days were the most expected days of school life which simply means off to studies by all means.Always the mathematics books were sent for Pooja.Since we used to say " we should not touch the book" , even touching a piece of paper or reading a flash news from TV seemed sin full. During the 9 days of Navarathri most of my friends used to avoid non vegetarian food but in my case I always stay unaware of Navarathri untill it is Saraswathi Pooja. 'AayudhaPooja ' ( Pooja of implements ) too will take place during these days which means even news paper presses would be on holiday.

Back from temple I opened the book and read a line from it.Wrote down the Malayalam alphabet in a paper stopping at every letter and wondering how it is a part of my life .I listened to my kid cousin pronouncing every letter trying hard to keep it sound clear even though two of her front row teeth are missing. Its the fresh restart of learning .

Colors in darkness.

It was our first week in the training academy .One morning we were intimated that our Business Etiquette lessons 'd start today and the trainer will be in class within 10 minutes.It followed a small introduction of him.Since I had woke up very early ( might not be very early in many other's terms) and the god of sleep was really fond of me ,I couldn't get the whole introduction but some tags like 'IIT Bombay', 'author of a book on...' etc was absorbed by the drooping head.As we waited for him to arrive , a man in formals with a cooling glass on his face entered the class briskly.He positioned himself in front of the training hall.He appeared ridiculous with his cooling glasses in a room which was nearly freezing with a high A/C.But instantly we noticed that he have a folded white stick in his hand.He felt his laptop keys with his hand and an accessibility tool was reading him the screen.
"The trainer is blind!!!", some one exclaimed.We couldn't digest the idea of a man who is visually challenged trains others on corporate grooming which is all about looks and appearance. He introduced himself as Manuj Kumar Tamuli and there started the wonderful days of our training. The blind man gave endless presentations everyday.Manuj uses his laptop and projector with such skills that will excel any normal person.He remember each and every words and diagrams of the slides.Just give him the slide number and he starts his magic.
We had discussions on everything under the sky .I always wonders if he know what it looks like when he talks about colors , art ,TV programs and nature.He can reach his chamber at the end of the corridor or the training rooms that line one side of the corridor or the restroom and cafeteria without any body's help.The academy's website quotes his life as an inspirational thought for the trainees.
He could identify all his acquaintances' voice and he aligns himself to the direction of a conversation so that he appears absolutely normal.His ability to entertain and keep a crowd lively was amazing.One who can't see anything teaches those who can see about body languages and gestures!!!
We always used to think that at the end of the training they will reveal that he could see and he was pretending so to keep a close watch on the trainees, a filmy twist.It didn't happen.His perception of the surrounding was so perfect that we thought he have lost his sight very recently but it was wrong.He was born blind.
Manuj's life is a challenge to the creator who didn't impart the gift of vision in it and is an answer to people who blame their deficiencies.
Salutes Manuj for his attitude towards life.

Whats missing ? , Season II

'Onam is the national festival of Kerala '.The first sentence I used to write in essays on Onam through out my primary school exams.It was a sure as well as welcomed question.The exams 'd get over a few days before
Onam and the mirth starts.Even the word 'Onam' always accompanies a happy smile.Ten days of making Pookkalam* .Starting with a single color of flower on the first day ,two colors on day two and so on till the tenth day.New dresses and sadya* on 'Thiruvonam*' add the glamor.


Through the years my Onam celebrations have been changing its flavours.When I was a kid I strictly observed making Pookkalam ,collecting flowers from here and there.As time changed I gave a reverse inheritance of my rights to make Pookkalam back to Amma and she did it Only on Thiruvonam.From collecting flowers , my happiness diverted to celebrate Onam at a friend's place , extend a helping hand in Kitchen on the day of Thiruvonam and now to work in office on the day of Onam( I can't call it my happiness and even I hate calling it my fate).
As years go on , I feel like I had better celebrations in previous years. During the last Onam season I had an insight that this year , just like any other past year , will be remembered as a good old time in future.So I tried to enjoy the festival consciously. It was literally a free time.A few weeks after I graduated from college and a few weeks before I joined my present job.
This time I 'm waiting to see how my Onam will be registered in tomorrow's album.I am waiting for an Onam which I 'll long to celebrate for the sake of my happiness and not for it to be remembered. Every one says , as you grow up the enthusiasm vanishes.If it is true then I'm waiting for a day when I become a kid again.I know some thing is missing now.

My last Onam is here Whats missing?

Wish you a happy Onam

Pookkalam - patterns made by flowers
Sadya - the feast
Thiruvonam - the 10th day of Onam celebrations

Badshah Bhai

There were two incidents which make me talk about music.The happiest is that my friend Neethu sang for an album named 'Interval' which is expected to release soon.And the other is ,I talked to a college mate who gave up his engineering career and learning music production now.Their passion for music made me travel pretty back down in my memory lane .
My school had a group of students who sing for all the programs . Me and my friends used to frequent their practice sessions.We gave them chance to bask in the glory of their talent with our admiring eyes.The teacher who used to train them in school knew how badly I wanted to sing.Once he gave a chance for me to sing with his group in a training session and every one who was present there could identify my voice running far beyond the others.The teacher asked me to return to the audience side after a few minutes .He did not bothered to gave me ,not even to my friends, another chance...that much was the impact.A friend consoled me," You can't sing without proper training in classical music .Once we get trained for at least six months we can sing better than these people".We knew all those students were trained in karnatic music from their childhood.
That night I told my parents I wish to learn music.My father asked me " Do you feel you sing good?"."Acha , how can I come to a conclusion without getting proper training .First lemme get trained ". There weren't any music teachers around , so I demanded them to take me to a music school which is pretty far away from home.Being a primary school student I was not used to travel alone , so my parents could easily discard that institute.I came to know about a full time music school which have hostel facility.I was ready to give up my regular school classes and I dreamed of a future devoid of mathematics teachers but blissful music .My mom raised her head from the book she was reading " Bhavya, do you know , In my childhood I wanted to learn drawing .But circumstances didn't allowed me to and I don't regret for it now.Very less people make a living out of art". "I 'll be one of that very less people".
The news of a music school opening near to our place didn't escape my notice.Classes are handled by a famous artist retired from All India Radio.I found myself enrolled in the class on the next Mahanavami.My class mates were in the age range of 5 - 40 .Needless to say , except the few of 5 and 6 year old , most of them already had basic training earlier.And 4 of them were doing degree courses in music and came to the class just to get the Guru's blessings.But the teacher insisted of starting from scratch.Forgot to mention, that was a part time class .(I couldn't drive Mathematics teachers away from my life).
Every day the class had wonders in store for me.I understood how 'swaras' are laid in the back bone of a song and how 'tal' framed the songs.The teacher was an expert ,not even in singing but teaching too.I remember how he moved his hands in air to show the ascending and descending swaras.Still I wonder how perfect he puts each swara in the exact position , how his voice dissolves in the shruthi of 'Thamburu'.
As strongly as I admired the music lessons , I hated that much to sing.The only reason behind that was my voice not being obedient to me.My voice never cared for 'shruthi'.Except mine and two other boys ( they were brothers) ,every body else's voice converged as one and flowed in the tune.I tried to hide my voice in others.But the Guru declared " he can count the number of voices that comes out.Don't try to hide your voice ".Even if he didn't look at me ,I knew I was the target.When it came to individual practice even lip synchronization couldn't save me.There were theory classes on the second Sunday of every month.He used to explain how different Raga's came into existence and talked about the history of music.It was in such classes he used to talk about the similarity between different genres of music. I liked such classes only.
Then came the next Mahanavami and every one was supposed to sing for the pooja. I set my mind up and Guru grouped me with two other best singers .(He was sure I'll do lip synchronization only). To make things even worse , he invited the student's parents and some how one of my neighbour came to know about it.That uncle himself assumed the duty of publicising it.In the evening of that program I could find all my well wishers lined up the first raw .I don't know what happened , nobody criticised after the program.
After some days the two brothers I mentioned earlier, those who too were as pathetic as I was, left the class.Then the teacher said ," There are people who are not gifted in music , they might have some other talents.Even if such people try hard to learn music , they won't succeed .They may come inside the rules of music.But music is not some thing about rules .So if you are not gifted its better to leave and go in search of your piece of cake.I was talking about those two boys...".That words of wisdom opened my eyes.I thought of giving up music and I did after a few weeks.
From that day I haven't ever tried humming a tone even in bathroom.I realized my role is to enjoy music as a listener.I don't regret that I can't sing.I don't regret that I joined that music class.That incident gave me valuable insights.
Later in college hostel a senior girl asked me to sing a song as part of the so called 'ragging' ( I guess , it was me who got ragged least in our batch .This girl was the weakest of the seniors who never got a prey).I warned her as humbly as I could " I sing really bad, nobody ever allows me to sing" ,"Ohh...is it so? then I'm giving you a chance" .I started with "har ghadi badal rahi...." she couldn't control her laughter and told me "I didn't expect when you said...".
My cousin used to say , he can run a remix company with the help of me.If I sing , nobody can find out it was a popular song.A friend used to say , I sing like the priest in their church.In short I never open my mouth in singing.
I met Badshah Bhai very recently.I have a feeling of coherence when I listen to his songs.Eey...I'm talking about the new character in 9Xm family , Badshah Bhai.I got a boost up and I may sing one day...he he...just kidding.

Yeah, I'm confused.

I have seen such sacks carrying rice and wheat with a warning "Do not use hooks".But this time its full of red roses.A sack full of red roses and I was asked to pluck the petals and place in trays.I filled trays after trays with rose petals.It reminded me of beauty soap ads and film songs.The white floor of the hall have been covered with the rose trays with me sitting in the middle.Some guests who arrived early joined me in the task. I was invited to attend a pooja .Down in my memory lane there was a Ganapathy Homam on the morning of our house warming and I was drooping down by the time it ended.The only pooja I attended as far.

Spending a sunday all alone watching TV or sleeping through out the day didn't appeal me much , so I happily accepted the invitation to pooja. I got a reminder at the previous night itself "Be on time , early in the morning".Next morning, a knock on the door woke me up at 10' o clock (Don't take it your way ,it was a second sleep , after the break fast ) to see the 7 year old live reminder with her one month old Cocker Spanial ."Akka , ennum kulikkaliya? late aydchu" and she asked me to wear some thing grand.

Within fifteen minutes from then I was welcomed by the host family "vanka ,vanka".All wrapped in fine Silk cloths ,wearing gold in many forms of ornaments all over their body.I had ignored the kid's words about dress code and there was no signs of Pooja .I got enough time to go back to my place and at the end of my search I found out my friend's ear ring abandoned in a dark corner of a shelf.I some how wore it and hurried back. Since I was the first guest and every one else in the home had enough in their 'to do' list , I was assigned to attend roses.Hostess explained me how she ran out of time and couldn't invite all friends but a handful only.She stopped at me whenever she passed by to explain how they arranged pooja's every year.Her 15 year old girl , was trying to lock the puppy inside her bedroom.Even at the slightest of her movements her bangles giggled and silk cloths murmured secrets.

Once all the decorations were done with Marigold garlands , it was time to prepare the 'thank you kits'.A carry bag , on which it was printed 'Thank you for your presence ' and the host family's name ,filled with sandal ,turmeric ,kumkum ,camphor and some thing I couldn't identify and small golden coloured metal cases to hold each of them.

The priest arrived on time and the family welcomed him .He turned out to be a Keralite who couldn't understand Tamil . He had some books from which he recited something and his actions where all strange and alien to me.There seemed to be a competition among the people to join the bhajan in the top most of their voice.I didn't understand the meaning of anything.Still I too followed everything and even a namaskaram to the priest.I was really praying at that moment ("god,let me keep my balance while doing the namaskaram.Otherwise give me strength to bear a fall in front of this much people") I can't really make out why they all did a 'sashtanga namaskaram'( prostrate ) at the Brahmin's feet. All my fancies about the decorations and flowers had ran away.I felt I was totally unfit to that place. The family presented the priest a tray full of fruits ,flowers , folded five hundred rupees currency bundle and dhothi's with golden brocaded being the attraction .The pooja was followed by a feast .Delicious food served with warm hospitality. Thank you kits were handed over.

Back at my place I wonderd if the God has pleased over all those show offs. Does God really exists? If you had such a doubt , then why did you go to the Pooja.To please the host.Then why do you go to temple some times? To pray , of course. Then why do you take part in atheist debates.I doubt the existence of god.You pray to god and you doubt the existence ...!!! See, we can't ignore science ,right? .Then what is your stand? .I'm ...I'm confused.I'm an agnostist.Oooh...so you can go to temple and pray when you really need favours and you can pretend to be an atheist at other times.Such a coward you are!!!Yeah...thats right.

Tea Break

I smiled at my hostess.She stopped on her way to kitchen and said ,"No.make it clear.What do you like to have .Tea or coffee ?". I decided to go for a Coffee and I said "MMnnn....Tea".This is where I become so helpless , my mind says one and my tounge utters another.She brought a cup of steaming tea and a couple of cookies in a plate.I sipped the thick sweetened liquid and tried hard not to smell the milk in that.At the rim of the cup, tea converged with its brown colour.I kept on smiling so that my dislike for the milk tea wouldn't be expressed.I swallowed each sip as I framed my answers to her queries in Tamil.I remembered my mom's words." Today onwards make your tea yourself".She 'd be taking back the cup of tea I rejected for it was stirred by a spoon that formerly served to stir my mom's milk tea.

As a kid I used to be a fan of the children's science magazine "Eureka" in Malayalam.It was an article in Eureka that made me aware of the presence of Caffeine in coffee and Thein in tea.I gave up coffee and tea completely afraid of a possible cancer.My mom congratulated me for being so deterministic ( She din't had any clue how she was going to be embarrassed because of my determination).

I was in 3rd std then.Once a couple of our relatives payed us a visit.After the usual chit chats , my mom served them tea. I warned my mom "Don't give them tea.They will die of cancer". She ignored me with a smile.No time to waste.I ran to the visitors and told them not to drink the tea ( Yeah...some directors are like this ...they 'll brutually copy things even from a kid's biography...I'm not talking about Fasil or Manichithrarhazhu...generally..).The visitors, afraid of a possible interchange of salt and sugar left the cup .My mom came and told them 'the naughty kid was kidding'.I couldn't understand why my mom want to put those lovely people's life at stake.I cried in front of them and explained about Caffeine and showed them Eureka for proof.They all laughed at me and continued with the tea.When the visitors left our home , mom advised me not to panic on others health.She said "just mind yours".

A couple of days latter we were visiting my dad's friends place.When they served tea , I became conscious of my health(Only my health).I declared " I don't take Tea"."Coffee?" , I said "No" as if she had asked me to be a suicide bomber.I ended up having grape juice (Now I can imagine my parents embarrassed faces).My dad waited till we got outta that house.I got enough firing.Mom tried to make me understand the difficulties of hosts.This time she advised me to ignore the tea if I don't want and not to ask for alternatives.

From then I used to leave the glasses untouched and latter when I myself was aware of the obligation to the host , pretended to take a sip and left it as such.Some one advised me not to waste tea ,once.

With time I started liking black coffee , then black tea.But I genuinely hated the smell of milk.Except at a friend's home I ne'er got my perfect tea.So Its me who make my favourite tea at home.If it is mom , it will go through a round of rejections as applications in Govt.offices. Lately I found out making best black tea in coffee machines(he he...machine serve hot water only).Some times I feel like our kitchen has become a small Brazil ,exporting that much of coffee.Now a days a cup of hot black tea is the perfect decor for my cubicle in office.But I cherish those times sipping from a cup of steaming black tea watching the rain , that too at home.

A sunday, well spent.

I asked the conductor twice and he assured the bus goes through Triplicane.I took the back seat with a girl who looked at me as if I was in the news for stealing some question papers.

I was on the way to attend an exam and the center of exam was at the other end of the city.Neethu, the culprit ,who forced me to attend the exam had got a nearby center and another friend to accompany her.Once again I felt my bag to make sure the pencil,pen,sharpener and eraser I bought few minutes ago are in place.I held the Rs.5 ticket in my hand and kept glancing at the conductors face every now and then.When most of the boards showed off 'triplicane' on them I started looking for the school name.Then the girl who was sitting next to me asked, "where do you want to go?".I told her the street name and school name.She nodded in helplessness.Bus drove past the Marina beach and entered a busy lane.At last the conductor turned his head and said Triplicane.I wondered that I travelled this long with Rs.5.It was easy to spot the old building of the school and find out my seat in the last row.

My previous experiences made me go through the instructions once again.Yes, I have a ball point pen and HB pencil , I relaxed.(Once during the CUSAT entrance exam I had darkened the bubbles in OMR sheets with a pen and when I realised it was to be done by a pencil, I tried my best to keep my lips curved in a smile.The invigilator exclaimed ," This careless, how are you going to be an engineer!!!").I kept the pencil and pen on the desk .A glance and I ,with a whirl in my stomach ,realised its not an HB pencil.I checked the pen, it was clearly written as Gel on it.I felt .....( I don't know a word to describe what I felt) .I turned my head .A girl whose face revealed her tensions was doing the final minute sharpening of her HB pencil.She said she don't have an additional pen.I asked the guy who sat in front of me.He threw a weired look and felt from his legs to feet and found a ball pen from one of the countless pockets of his cargoes.I decided to carry on with the non -HB ,extra dark pencil.I used the pencil in a very light manner so that it makes the effect of an HB pencil.I sat alone in my bench.Invigilator cross checked the hall tickets.I was not wearing spectacles in the photo.He stared for one more second and mapped the signature and confirmed my identity.

As the bells rang to open the question booklet seals , some one shouted an 'excuse me' from the door.A guy who definitely was a fan of Rajnikanth (his attire and shaving pattern...thats the only clue) came and sat beside me. Behind him entered a girl who was dressed as she was attending a party.All the candidates eyes including mine followed her even after she settled in her place.Invigilator asked the guy with a geometry box to leave his calculator away.He stood from his place and walked out , careful to avoid any wrinkles to his Peter England trousers.He came back and had a sip of water from the fruity bottle he was carrying.

After going through some pages of the booklet I was wondering , what are they going to do with all these circuit diagrams and mathematical equations. I was aware of the time distribution , so I started slowly . Once during the IIT JEE ( No,I din't over estimate me...another friend needed company ...thats why ...I got a result card after some months stating " Regret to inform you that you are not eligible...Your rank is One Lakh Twentyfive...") , I finished all the questions in half an hour and some how passed the three hours.The general knowledge section was the only relief.

None of the questions in the other sections made any sense to me.I could identify the zigzag figures as symbol for resistors, two parallel vertical lines as capacitors, a coil as inductor.But nothing more than that.

I glanced at Mr.Peter England.He adjusted his soda glasses and was busy doing some thing in the space for rough work.He had kept his geometry box open and the fruity bottle close to him.There were two fans in the room.A dusty Usha and another old Crompton Greeves.They worked hard to keep the Chennai heat away.

I began to brain storm on the terms ....where did I hear all these? Transducer, Self induction,Gap,dielectrics,impedance,characteristic plots,planes,omegas,waves, angles,diodes...........When diodes appeared in the paper , I thought there was some diode starting with Z.Ohh..yeah next question is about Zenor diode.Mnn...not that a week memory( there are some occasions, I get impressed by myself).Then came the coefficients with all the scientists names as prefix. I replaced all those names with Bhavya in my mind.Bhavya coefficient of dielectric, Bhavya constant, Bhavya wave length, Bhavya's Theorem,Bhavya temperature of boiling......not a rhyming set of words.Good , that there is no constants or coeff named after me.

Miss.Party had already closed her questionnaire.She tried to adjust her loose hair locks and started admiring her own nail polish.I looked at my nails and wondered , what colour will look good on them! Mr.Rajnikanth rested his head on the desk.The orange colour of the old building reflected on his face( Once one of my cousin had told me , if you take photos facing a bright orange wall ,the pics will be warm).

When it was past half the time , a press photographer entered the room .The invigilator adjusted his shirt collar and wiped his face with a kerchief.Photographer suggested some posses and the invigilator was so keen in following his instructions.He clicked some ten snaps. In all the photos invigilator stood exactly in front of me and my hope of appearing in a Tamil news paper faded then itself.

I started a game of rolling pen and pencil on the desk.The one which reaches the farthest on the desk wins.Always pencil won, pen was not a perfect figure to roll.Once the pencil fell off the desk and invigilator noticed and Miss.Tension smiled at me with a yawn.I gave up the game.

When it was half an hour left I had 5 questions to finish.I formulated another game.Do one question and take a break of 3 minutes.But I finished marking it in next two minutes.I dint even looked at the answers.Just darkened the circles in OMR sheet.When Invigilator started collecting the answer sheets , Mr.Peter England hasn't finished.His rough work space might had got over. I have to return the pen to Mr.Cargos.The pen had 'Infosys' embossed on it.I returned the pen with an unintonated 'thank you'.

Just after the exam I got Neethu's SMS saying she enjoyed the 3 hours.Travelling back was easy . Back at home while having my lunch ,I got a call from my friends ,"Hurry up,we are planning to go to Besant Nagar Beach".Some how I answered "Now? I can't join you." and within five minutes I was sleeping like a pig( I don't know what I look like when I sleep, may not be a pig , I hope).