A Correction Story!

This incident happened when I was in my first standard at school. It was first period of the day.My class teacher Sreelatha miss just distributed the report cards after the third series of tests. I had got first rank for the first test, 3rd rank for the term exam and now awkwardly a 16th rank for my 3rd test. How did this happen? Clearly there was some sluggishness in the studies part. My achan and amma never used to teach me or not even interfere in my studies. Those days the teachers did most part of it and I had always been a studious girl.But something had gone wrong.I couldn’t bear the thought of going to my achan to get the report card signed. I shared my fears with my friend sitting next to me, my eyes welled up with tears. Lincy, my friend handed over a red ink ball pen which we children were not supposed to touch those days. I was shocked. From where did you get this Lincy? She smiled and said, from my mother’s bag. Lincy’s mother was a teacher and hence she had close access to a red ink pen. What am I supposed to do now?I looked baffled. Next, she gave me a blade. She had that too!! By now, I had got it right. The very next minute I did the unthinkable. My rank 16 on the report card is going to vanish. For a jiffy, I thought, should I make it 1 or 6? No, I don’t deserve the first rank this time. Let it be 6. Aghas, number 1 disappeared and my rank was now 6 marked in red same as my teacher.

But there was something wrong in my report card. The blade had done its mischief. The scratched mark was still there. Was my achan going to find out? Did I do the wrong thing?The period had got over and the next period had begun. But my worry only increased with time. By the end of the second period I knew the seriousness of what I had done.I wanted to rectify my mistake. I was going to put the number one again. I asked Lincy for the ren ink pen one more time. I will write 1 on the side of 6 and my rank would be 16 again. I would be relieved and a good girl again. But to my dismay Lincy refused to lend me the pen the second time. No you cannot use that again. She was adamant. I nearly fainted. I spent the whole day in dismay. I couldnt talk to anyone. I was figuring out ways I would solve this puzzle.

Finally the last bell of the day rang. I walked back home with a heavy heart. I decided I am not going to lie anymore. For a minute the story of George Washington blazed through my mind. I went home determined. When I reached home my achan and amma hadnt returned from work. My sisters suspected something but they couldn’t take it out from me.Even I didnt disclose anything to my amoomma (grandma) with whom I shared every story in school. Within sometime I saw our car outside the gate. My heartbeat went up quickly. My unaware of the devil I am, enquired how my day was. I didnt reply. Then after the evening tea. I went to them. Achan and amma was discussing something. I told them what I had done. The story was not as simple as George Washington’s. My achans face reddened with anger. Amma reprimanded. My professor parents could not bear the fact that their daughter had done this. My sisters and amoomma came to know about this. The reactions were mixed. The whole evening had passed by and morning I woke up with the same agony. What would happen to the report card. It was not signed. What would be the next step.

My mother was coming with me to school. She wanted to meet my teacher. As we walked to school, amma lectured on the gravity of the situation. I had realized it. But there was nothing to be done now. I heard every piece of my ammas advice. We reached our class. Sreelatha miss  was surprised to see my amma as she never used to be a frequent visitor to my school. Amma then explained to her what I had done and said sorry. Miss was shocked as this was unexpected from me. She then asked me to say in plain sentence ” I will not do it again Miss”. I said that and went to my seat. Amma then signed my report card and gave it to her.The fact that my amma apologized for me and made me apologize too urged her to take the whole incident in an affirmative way. Sreelatha miss was a great human being who never uttered a word about this incident to me or anyone else again!

A Rainy Morning in Thrissur!

It was June 1985. The school is reopening today after the summer vacations. I was proud to be a first standard student. With everything set for the new year I was impatiently waiting for the reopening day. New uniforms, new school bag, water bottle, the whole new set of books which my achan had neatly covered with calendars and labelled with balarama stickers for us were all in place. This year I had one more reason to be excited! It was a new pair of rain shoes which I had bought from Corona.(a shoe shop in Thrissur ).It was light brown with a net fashion and perfect for a rainy day. The school calendar clearly stated ‘No uniform shoes and socks on rainy days’ and that granted the permission to show off my new shoes at school.

The school reopening can never be thought about without the heavy mansoon in background. The communication between the rains and the reopening was always intact. Both would never miss each other even a single year. This year was no exception. The showers had started early morning. I quickly finished my bath and went to temple with achan and amma which was the routine on any reopening day.It was 8 am and the heavy rains hadn’t stopped which confirmed my wearing of rain shoes to school on the very first day itself! What more do I need!

I finished my breakfast and took the school bag i had packed days before. It was time to leave now. My school was a 5 min walk from my home.I lived in a pocket road just next to my school. My cheriamma (mothers sister) who had come down from Abudhabi for a vacation and staying with us was dropping me to school that day.My sisters who were studying in the same school had already gone. Cheriamma and I walked in the lashing rain holding our umbrellas tightly. As we reached the main road, we noticed that the canals on both sides of the road were over flowing. My cheriamma clasped my hand as we couldn’t clearly distinguish where the road ended and where the canal started.The whole place was swamped.As we walked our clothes soaked in the rain,my cheriamma coaxed me that we go back home. But the thought of meeting my friends after the long summer vacation and my new shoes boosted me to go ahead. We took a few more steps and i felt something being swept away from under my feet by a gush of canal water. Alas!! in a trice, the shoe on my right foot was gone. I loosened my cheriamma’s hand quickly to go in search of my lost shoe. But there was no sign of it. Had it gone along the canal water? or got itself plunged in the mud? I couldnt believe this!!! We went on past the school in search of my shoes but it was destined to go!! Imagine my state on that rainy morning in June 1985 🙂

As I walked back home, cheriamma assured me that I would find it back the next day when the rains stop and the canals dry up. With that hope I found some peace. Not just the next day but every day for at least a month I have searched the canal on my way to school and back hoping that my shoe would one day just appear before me. The lone pair was diligently saved for months but the partner never came back.To this day, I wonder where would my shoes would have gone ! My amma tried to buy me the same shoes but the irony is that i never got the exact same shoes again.

Writing my heart out!

Today I was thinking, why haven’t i written in my blog since long. There are so many bits and pieces I have scribbled here and there. Sometimes I decide what I am going to post. But today is different, I am doing impromptu. I am writing my heart out. I was thinking seriously, why am i writing a blog and I came up with some surprising reasons. People tell me that I have an amazing memory. Yes, I do have vivid memories of my childhood, my teenage and my youth. Penning down my memories when I have a good memory might one day help me relive those more than anyone else. Tomorrow when I can’t remember anything, I can just turn over each and every page of my life and laugh or cry at my own idiosyncrasies. My kids can read and realise what a life I have lived. My better half will get a better understanding of me. Moreover, I can tell my parents , my sisters, my friends from childhood whatever is left unsaid. Isn’t this incredible!!! But only one condition I have put for myself, be honest and be yourself. After all, this blog is for those who understand me and those who believe in me. There is no space for hypocrisies. Its all about love, hate, happiness and sorrows of life. After all, aren’t we all human beings!





Matha Pitha Guru Daivam!

I grew up in a God centric family and my childhood memories are always centered on daily visits to temples. In fact as children we used to squabble about the fact that amma and achan never took us for exotic vacation but by the time I entered high school I had seen all the famous temples of South India. What an irony it would seem to the next generation! But today when I look back I understand that they were trying to instill the spiritual blood in us and give us the comfort of the eternal security of God.

Most of us have heard and learnt the popular adage “Matha, Pitha, Guru, Daivam”. As a child I too have learnt it but never realized the true meaning of it until recently. It solely means that it’s your parents who should be worshipped first, and they take you to your Guru who in turn points you to God. We owe our life to our parents. My mother brought me to this world. My father works hard for a life time to give a good life to us. No wonder, among all the relationships in this world the relationship with your mother is the strongest because its 9 months ahead of everyone else! How true!

It is said that a girl will realize the value of a mother when she becomes a mother herself. When you are a child, you fight with your mom, when you are a teenager you make statements like “amma, you don’t know anything”. When you are married, the graph of love starts going up. When you become a mother yourself, the graph is at its peak. The reverse thinking process starts then and you understand the exact meaning of every word and every action of your parents.

There are two particular incidents in my life which I would never forget. One happened when I was about 7 years old. My amma was making chikida (a popular savoury in Kerala). It requires small dough balls to be fried in oil. My amma kept the oil to heat on the burner and I was playing around in the kitchen and was standing next to her. As soon as she started putting the dough balls to the hot oil, it started bursting and one by one all the boiling hot oil and balls were coming to us like bullets. We could have run away from there. But we were so panicked that we couldn’t move an inch from there. And in her terror, my amma did something which only a mother alone could do in this world. She covered me completely with her saree while exposing herself totally to the bullets. I was too small then to realize what was happening. The next day I was as usual at school and home playing and roaming around, but my amma was fully down with second degree bullet shaped burns all over her body! I am sure it took several months for the scars to completely disappear!

The next incident happened when I was in my predgree. It was the time I thought I knew everything better than my parents. Towards the end of our classes, we had our farewell and I decided that I was going to wear a gagra choli. I found out a good design from a magazine and my amma got it stitched for me. Unfortunately the cloth was not sufficient and the dress was not looking as beautiful as I imagined. The tailor consoled me by saying that if I brought some more of the same cloth she could get it altered. I was so disappointed but my amma reassured me that we would get it altered. A day or two passed. I didn’t see any sign of my amma getting the cloth for alteration. I was so desperate and decided that amma was not going to do it for me. So one evening when my amma was away at work, I went out all by myself in an auto to the textile shop to buy the cloth. Still remember, it was a maroon colored gagra choli and I wanted some more of the maroon coloured cloth. The lady in the shop showed me so many variations of maroon colour. Alas, then I realized that I hadn’t brought the dress with me to buy the exact maroon cloth required. But it didn’t matter, I was a teenager and I knew everything and I had the exact maroon in my mind!! So I didn’t wait for anything, just bought the required material and came back home in another auto. When I reached home, my amma had returned from work and she was waiting to question me. Furious, I told her that I went and bought the cloth all alone since I knew she wouldn’t do it for me. Then amma asked me if she could see the cloth and the dress to confirm that the colour was the same. I proudly took out the cloth I bought and the dress. God, the colours didn’t match!!! What am I to do next!! I felt sorry. But what happened next was even more painful! My amma took out a cover and handed over it to me. When I opened it I was almost in tears because it had the exact colored cloth in it which I needed for my dress. She had gone to buy it on her way back from work. How naïve I was and how thoughtful my amma was!

I end up on the note, Lets Worship the Gods in front of us first before we embark on our quest to realize the unseen Gods!

My Passion, My Dream!

A few months back, my valliamma called me on phone and asked “makkalkokke sukhamalle” meaning how are your kids doing. It took me a while to digest the fact that she’s referring to me and my two kids. Often we portray ourselves as small children and we don’t realize who we are until actually someone does it. In my imagination, I am always the little girl who’s ready for fun and fights. My valliamma’s question made me realize that time and tide wait for none and its time now to act. I was a baby once, a child, a teenager, a young married woman, a new mother and now the mother of two little ones! Writing has always been a dream and a passion for me. Time flew and so was the craving in me.I am giving my dream a little life. Come, join me in this incredible journey of life. Lets rediscover life. After all, life is all about love, relationships, truth and God!


A simple beginning …

Yes, I’m onto a new venture today, blogging or rather writing! A passion turned to a long cherished dream is coming true. Millions have walked ahead of me and millions will follow me too. Yet I want to make a simple beginning today, a quiet one too 🙂 I hope you travel aside me in the days to come. Welcome to my blog!