My Experiments with Time

As a kid, I beamed with pride when friends who visited our home called it Little Kerala, thanks to the mango trees, coconut trees, plaintains, guava and lemon trees. Today one of the large mango trees was uprooted by the cyclone in Chennai, and its twin had to be cut as a precautionary measure. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the picture of the enormous fallen tree that once stood as tall as a two-storey building. This tree and her twin, a few years younger than myself, have been a major part of our growing years (my sister's and mine), and that of our next generation too. During the hot dry summer days and power cuts, we sought solace under them. We had our first swing tied onto her branches. She has witnessed our group studies, gossips,laughters and bitter fights. My little daughter and her cousins would spend hours watching the cat family play around the twin mango trees. We will miss the harvest, and the aroma of the mangoes, both ripe and sour. The harvesting

The morning sun is shining bright, the little sparrows are chirping merrily. My little soul, the vagabond that it has always been has set foot in new shores. I can't call it new though, this place had been home for about five years not too long ago. When I left Muscat five years back, I never dreamt I would be back here, but life has its way of throwing surprises. I wonder if its purely coincidental or there is a purpose that the universe and stars understand better. I am made to revisit my previous abodes, equipped with learnings and experiences that come with age, and ofcourse an inquisitive little eight year old and a travel-freak partner. When I had the chance to revisit and relive in Chennai, it was pure bliss. I met the same people and went to the same places, and couldn't help noticing the changes. When I took a step back and looked at life through a window, I was surprised by the changes in certain elements and the lack of changes in certain others. The bli

I was home alone after a very long time. I did what I loved doing during such times; listening to music while painting. Solitude and music have a certain chemistry that can boost our energy; where we have a space that is devoid of distractions and immerse in our inner self, doing what we love the most. I believe we all need such short breaks in our life, where we disconnect from everyone and everything and connect with ourselves.  I have a playlist on my mobile that I love to listen to during my hours of solitude (spare me for the lack of disconnection from device, I didn't have an alternative to play music). I have often wondered why I love listening to this playlist when I am alone. It consists of songs that carry memories; of childhood, of motherhood, of road journeys and of certain people in my life.  It's beautiful how a song can take you back to your school days or a particular trip or remind you of someone who is no longer around. That explains why I have goosebumps when

Roll of the Dice - Book review Anand Neelakantan's 'Ajaya Book l- Roll of the Dice' was indeed unputdownable. The book is a tribute to the Prince of Kauravas and villain of Mahabharatha, Duryodhana and his aides. In his own words, Neelakandan had been drawn towards the anti-heroes in our epics, and this book is an attempt to give life to the silent heroes who have been overlooked in our uncritical acceptance of conventional renderings of our epics.  Last month, when my nephew suggested this book as a good read, I was not quite sure I would complete it, as I have never really been enticed by the epics. Nevertheless I borrowed his book as a keepsake, a spare for a rainy gloomy day. I found the author's note compelling, as I could relate to his words when he said he was drawn to the anti-heroes. This book is Duryodana's Mahabharata, and also Karna's, and Ekalavya's, and Aswathama's, and Balarama's and Bhishma's, and the little known Jara's and V

Today we are having the last jackfruit of the season, the aroma of the over-ripe jackfruit permeated the air. This officially marks the end of summer, the end of chakka-kaalam and maambazha-kaalam (jackfruit season and mango season). For Keralaites, and specifically non-resident Keralaites- NRKs (a coin termed by my friend for Mallus who live elsewhere), jackfruits and mangoes are a nostalgia. It reminds us of our grandparents and cousins, summer vacations and monsoon weddings.   After having spent fifteen months in Kerala, my longest time here, I can definitely say the summer that culminates in the monsoon (April-July) is the best season to live here. The mangoes and jackfruits are the only solace during the scorching summers. They silently tell us that by the time you consume all of us, the monsoon will be here. So dutifully we devour all the jackfruits and mangoes not just in their raw and ripe forms, but in their multiple avatars of chakka kandal, chakka varatti, chakka appam, cha

If there were no Phones! Mama would have noticed the spark in my eyes when I first tasted the cake she baked Papa would have noticed when I balanced myself letting go both hands while I was cycling Grandma would have sung the Gayathri Mantra for me rather than playing it on Amazon Music Grandpa would have narrated how India lifted the World Cup, rather than showing it to me on Youtube We need phones I know,  but we need people a little more than phones.... 

April has always been a month to relish and cherish, for numerous reasons. Today we are in the first week of the seemingly hottest April. Travelling to Chennai by Mangalore - Chennai Express brings back memories of my own vacation and train journey, the difference being that we are travelling in opposite direction; and the vacation is no longer mine; I'm the parent now.  Back in the 90s, planning for vacations began almost two months earlier. Getting the concession forms from school, booking train tickets, writing to my cousins about the D day of our arrival in Kerala were all part of the preparations. Those days our vacations were not about stay in resorts or chilling by the beachside. April brought along the long-awaited train journey, the chugging and rumbling sounds of the train wheels, the smell of rusted iron, hot air that blows through the non-AC sleeper compartments are all memories. Sitting in the AC compartment today, I miss the familar smell of train journey that seems t