15 days

Yet Another March comes to an end in another few hours. For me, the Systems Analyst, its just another weekend, may be an exteded one. If I was living 5+ Years before, it would have been the end of an academic year.

Yes, March, the month which schools and colleges goes into summer vacation. The month where sun blazes, but still the child in me goes out to my ancestral houses, wanders around my household with my friends, playing cricket in that idavazhi where if you hit on the sides you are out. The month which colleges close, hostels become empty, A & B Mess's of GECT closes. The month where that huge ground will be almost empty, except for the athletic Vimala-ites and early morning footballers.

She will be lonely at this time, my college my alma-mater, with students leaving for the vacation and study leaves. The room no 226 where we were taught the ABC's of Fortran, which have that small platform from which Data Structures and operating Systems came out of our teachers. I will be there to call a proxy for my best friends. No 14.
To the left was the computer lab, where I by-hearted a few codes, to get through the Compiler Design and Artificial Engineering practicals. I walk down the steps to the canteen, to sip a chaya. Further down across the Chemical Block, I see the new CompSci block, which was made in the form of a Naalukettu. I remember its birth, we sat there for a few hours of our attendance. Took pictures during our last year.

Across the ground, I see the C Hostel standing tall in its pride. The ground where I played N number of cricket and football games. The center pitch where I on-drived JimChak for a six over the midwicket. The small volleyball court where Dileep's Smash came straight to my face and split my specs into two, one for left eye and another for right. The hostel where 13 of us, the CSE would be engineers, played, quarrelled, chatted and less studied. If C 11 was the PJ center C18 was our party office, where we brought out skits, programs and Tryst. C49 was my humble abode , at the top floor with an "anonymous" room mate, who gave an impression that he is not studying for exams, but always had 70+ percentage. Across that room was Shimmy Thomas and Sandeep, to the right there was Mammali. To the left there was an RT, whom once I gave therrivilleess for taking my bucket.

Fifteen days from now, I am going to relive these moments.

She will be waiting for us.

he was unique

Kunjunni Mash passed away, while I was busy losing the rummy games. Who was he to me? No one. But he was a master to the child in me. Not to me, but to a lots of children around the world. The one who came in as Kuttetan in Mathrubhumi Weekily and edited and corrected their small poems and stories. The one who sat around with children and sang poems along with them. The one who can be compared with VKN in short stories, he was the one who bought in new trend of KuttiKavithas and his own "prayogam"s to Malayalam literature.
"Pokkamilaymayaanente pokkam" speaks about his uniqueness. His poems had 2 or 4 lines, may be one. But they conveyed the message.

A few tributes here:

Aana Pokunna Poomarathinte Keezhe Pokunnatharedo Aaranumalla Kooranumalla Kunjunni Mashum Kuttiollum

Janikkum Nimisham Thottenmakaninglish Padikkanam Athinaal Bhaarya Than Per-ang-Englandil Thanneyakki Njan

The Malayali will miss him.

some pizza thoughts

I was at the Pizza Hut the other day, with my colleagues to have a Pizza Lunch – an inherited property from the Western World. There is nothing unusual in it. Corporates and common men like me are having Pizzas these days. We were cracking jokes, sipping our ice teas, eating the Garlic Breads and those medium and large, veg and non-veg Pan Pizzas.

After sometime a group of students, who were in their school uniforms, came in and sat in a table near to us. They too ordered ice teas, garlic breads and pizzas, just like us. They too were having lunch. Only difference was that they were school going children,( may be in 8^th, 9^th or 10^th) and we were employed adults.

I was thinking of the amount of pocket money that they might be having. Sure they might be from well off families, pocket rich with Rs 500 notes. Their uniforms said so.

Years before, near to my high school in Vadakara, there were 2 small shops, may be u can call ThattuKadas. One run by Chandriyechi and another by Moliyechi. We used to go there during our intervals- the short and long ones. I remember eating those sip-ups, those achchars that come in small packets (they used to cost 5 or 10 paise), those endless number of Kadala’s (Kappalandi), and those Bathakkavellams (Watermelon Juice in Kozhikoddan Slang). I even remember getting caught in Appunni Master’s class while eating Kadala’s – I thought I could fool everyone by keeping my hand over my mouth and nobody will see my munching. But Appunni Sir was just too good for me :-). And almost all these things I ate were on debt. Come Vishu and Onam, I will get richer and pay my debts. I thought that was life to the fullest.

And to eat my first Pizza it took more years. In that Pizza Hut of Powai, Mumbai. That was in 2003 Jun-July. My ITP days at MBT, Mumbai.

All the while I was eating; I was just comparing my childhood with those students. I know it is another generation with another set of thoughts, probably living in a bigger and wider world than mine in that sleepy Vadakara.

Just after that 2 young girls (6^th or 7^th std) in a modest set of uniforms, a blue pinafore, check shirt and pink ribbons, came in. They just browsed the catalogs, waited for a few minutes. I was eager to know what they were doing and was keeping an eye on them. Just when we finished and got up, I didn’t see them. I thought they might have left.

While going to the parking lot, across the road, I saw those two girls. They had that small cone ice cream in their hands. The Gang of Four Students was still finishing off their Chicken Hawaiin Medium Pan Pizza

PS: I wish I could go to those shops next time. I am sure Moliyechi will yell at me "mmala dhanushshalle yathu"

the golden 'rani'

I am a hardcore Cricket fan. Keeping an eye on all the cricket matches happening internationally is in my blood. Also those Ranji/Duleep/Irani Trophies too. But today I pay tribute to a person who won a Commonwealth Gold for India.
Its Kunjarani Devi. The 38 year old lady from Manipur who lifted 166 Kg in snatch and clean n jerk events in Weightlifting.
I salute the spirit of this lady whom we all do not know, who doesn't yearn accolades like an Anju Bobby George or a Beenamol, who is still craving to see an Indian gold at this age.
I salute the way these guys work to bring our country on the World Map and make us proud. They don't have any endorsement or sponsors, they don't create a Sania Mania or Dhoni Dhamaka and they fight all kinds of difficulties all the way from the officials to the coaches.
They just perform

Hats Off To You Ma'am