Nurungukal

   Burmah Shell reminds me about two things. At first about the escape of my father from the war torn Burma, now known as Myamar, in disguise in a Shell sponsored ship. Secondly about Balettan….. to us , Bala to many, Balan to a few and Balagangadharan to yet another few. Perhaps his father, a freedom fighter might have wished his eldest son to be remembered in the name of the world renounced nationalist.

        Not many from our family have scaled such adorable heights in their professional career. He acquired the silver spoon, not by birth, but through hard work and perseverance. He was a worthy model to all of us to be emulated, although he remained as a distant beacon unattainable.

      Not many a time we have met after our school days, except on a few family gatherings and once at his villa on the tranquil banks of Periyar. But whenever it happened, I always felt a transfer of energy in his presence and mellowed chat.

      It is still fresh in me, the silhouette of the old couple, climbing the winding steps of the manicured lawns of his brother’s villa in Wayanad , supporting each other, on a salubrious morning. Let me preserve that scene in the fathoms of my heart among many other such clips.

Pranamam