Nurungukal….

    I am not able to still understand the delicate mechanism of our mind or that invisible organ which helps us to rewind memories how old they may be. Many vivid pictures of old incidents appear in your mind’s screen as fresh as it was when it happened. To quote a few…….How I enjoyed the way I was carried by a family friend on his shoulder to enrol me in a near by primary school, fondly named as Kunhan  college……….how my teacher in 3^rd or 4^th standard made me to stand on the bench when I was caught for copying the answer of an  arithmetic mental riddle………the minute details of the marriage of my sister,  and the delivery of her first child, which had happened when I was still in school…….the thrill I enjoyed while accompanying my father on foot to a distant place to purchase a cow……….many many naughty  advances made in the pretext of heroism during my college days to draw the attention of the other sex ……the finest details of me packing the luggage to go to Trichy for joining the Railway Training Institute, while my father was relaxing on an armed chair and mother chewing her pan leaves sitting on the wooden plank in the Poomukham…..how I missed to collect the telegram  conveying the serious position of my father’s health from the post man, which denied me to be with him during his last moments on this earth…..and the many episodes while I was in service..

        I had in the last few years put my efforts to dig many such unforgettable events, from the fathoms of my memory. I am not sure whether the depiction was complete or effective, yet it was only an attempt to reveal the past. In the past and in recent time as I traversed through the literary works of many famous authors viz; Bhasheer, Vyshakhan, M.T.V etc, most of the heart rendering works were based on their past encounters, experiences in life. Bhargavi Nilayam, Manassinde Rasathandram  and Nalukettu are all a few to mention.

       During this lock down impasse, I love to lock my heart and soul  in the nostalgic pavilions of my past , under an Ashoka tree, while the birds in different colours and agility chirp, prompting me in my solitary sojourn ……