Nurungukal: Nurungukal A shriek and vibrationfrom my mobile...

Nurungukal:  Nurungukal   A shriek and vibrationfrom my mobile...:   Nurungukal    A shriek and vibration from my mobile phone, which is an   inseparable companion, since a few years, disturbed my attempt ...

 

Nurungukal

   A shriek and vibration from my mobile phone, which is an  inseparable companion, since a few years, disturbed my attempt to fix a drop of medicine into my eyes. I reluctantly withdrew from my attempt and reached for the instrument. It was my nephew, reminding me about the importance of the day. It is my Birth day in Christian era. Several other calls came, all wishing me many more happy years to be on this earth with health. Unfortunately nobody was bothered about my wealth ! which over the years was depleting at an alarming rate. An equal number of colourful messages with much more sentiments  bloated the columns of my flat box. As usual I shared each one of the expressions with my wife, who with a silent nod dismissed them, indicating that she had already celebrated the day with a sumptuous meal a few days ago i.e in Malayalam era. That deluged my hope of enjoying a fair Sadhya  once again. After a pause I tried again to drop the medicine. Each attempt was interrupted one by one. After a while my perseverance enabled me to soothe my tired eyes.

     It was noon and after a frugal lunch I slowly slipped into my usual siesta. Gradually an unusual dream seized me.

               “My mother in an attire and hairdo akin to Karalite style, awakened me early in the morning and persuaded me to go to temple as it was my birth day. It was the only day in the year we are made to feel a celebrity status. Most importantly we can enjoy a self declared holiday and, sometimes a set of new cloths depending on the fiscal health of the family. But surely an enjoyable Sadhya with sweet and savory items is a must to my mother. I accompanied by my kid  brother dashed to the temple after a hurried dip in the pond. Our enthusiasm for the trip was to enjoy the Thrimadhuram  which the old poojari prepared to with a unique taste.

          The lunch was serverd in the traditional system. There were no tables and chairs .We had to squat on the grass mat. Today I had the privilege to occupy the first place in the row next to our father. On the top of the row were placed a lighted bronze lamp, water and rice in respective containers and thulasi leaves and incense sticks.. Before the feast, mother with all reverence blessed me with thulasi and rice in the traditional manner by placing a little of them on the knees, shoulders and head. As always it was a wonderful delight to enjoy her preparations.  She served each item to her satisfaction and I, without any reservations enjoyed them.  My tummy was full. ……….”

       Once again the shriek and vibration. It is time for the next drop. The illusion slowly mellowed, awakening me    to the woods…………….……….

Nurungukal: Nurungukal Burmah Shell reminds me about two t...

Nurungukal:   Nurungukal   Burmah Shell reminds me about two t...:   Nurungukal    Burmah Shell reminds me about two things. At first about the escape of my father from the war torn Burma, now known as Myama...

 

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