Saturday, August 31, 2013

Why Do I

Why, Pencil and paper, Question

Why do I often find myself alone even in a crowd.

Why do I laugh often but don’t really enjoy it.

Why do I sleep often and still feel tired.

Why do I astray often, even without a reason.

Why do I feel often like a shadow,

Of my old self with no life of its own.

Why do I feel often, like those foot prints on sand,

Trailing behind till you get far enough,

Waiting to be washed away in the waves of time.

Don't remember when I lost sight of myself,

But this I know that

I have miles to go and smiles to spread. 

by Algo

Monday, August 26, 2013


Kerala, The gods own country, water bodies and coconut trees
I love to travel, meet people, see new places and fill myself with the freshness and love of Mother Nature. Though how far I go and how wonderful I feel there is always an ach inside me, a pull that disturbs me in my travels, the longing for something that I left behind, my home. Now I am really far from there, it’s not a pleasure trip but one to get a steady foot in life and so I reached the land of the Delmon civilization a year back. Hot and humid days in this sandy land make me wish often that I shouldn't have left home. How can a mild hearted tropical creature like me from the wet green lands of Kerala survive in this dusty island of palm trees. It is the memories at home that fuel me to withstand the blazing sun above and the boiling sand underneath.

Radiating calmness both in body and soul like an elderly abbot the vast sea surrounds me here, calm Sea and bright mornings were not something that I was used to. I was born in a village covered with plenty of coconut tree umbrellas, muddy fields and the sea not far either. Unlike that I see in Bahrain the water there has the mind of a teenager, arrogant yet full of life. It smashes hard on the rocks again and again trying to get freed from the man built boundaries and thus adding a hint of adventure to whomever care to stare.

I miss my land and the smell of the breeze that pats her all day long. The sense of smell is a wonderful sensation that can take you to realm of nostalgia. All you have to do is close your eyes and let it into your lungs through your nose; it pokes the brain and drags out the memories that are buried deep within. It’s often the good ones that are awaked in me, when I smell the air as few drops of water wets the thirsty sand; it take me to my childhood memory were I rest in the coconut tree shades all exhausted, praying at the dark clouds floating far away to sink the summer sun in their depths. Early morning sun heats the air and gives a unique fragrance, which reminds me of my mother’s face waking me up from my bed. It’s the smell that takes me back to my home and brings a smile to my face even when my eyes say I am far away. 

PS: This post is written for a contest in indiblogger 'Smelly to Smiley!' by Ambi Pur.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

The Bloggers Syndrome

A girl thinking, blogger syndrome
Its official now, research team from the IINJ has confirmed the existence of the bloggers syndrome. After three years of intense research and studies on 1000 regular bloggers across the country, the founder of the institute IINJ (Indian Institute of Nut Jobs) and the head of its research team Dr. Nut Job have officially announced the presence of this deadly disorder in 80% of their test subjects.

It is been reported that this senseless discovery has stunned the blogging community as many of the mainstream bloggers self diagnosed this disease after its official release. The leading news channels are showing their concern for the ailing bloggers across the country by broadcasting hourly debates with the full participation of all the available politicians and religious heads. The ruling and opposition political parties have decided to bring a law in the next session of the parliament to ban blogs; twitter and facebook are also on the verge of banishment so that any future syndromes can be prevented. On light of this matter the US president addressed the world early this morning and proclaimed that United States of America is keeping a watchful eye over this matter by means of UAVs and will intervene if necessary in a peaceful way. This move by the US has led to a heavy loss in the site traffic of the Indian blogs as most of the governments around the world blocked Indian sites due to the worry that the disease might be contagious.

In an exclusive interview to an exclusive news channel Dr. Nut has detailed his fist encounter with this peculiar disorder. ‘It was in the last quarter of the year 2008 that I detected an irregularity in the behaviors of few of my students, told Dr. Nut Job. I observed these personals closely for one month and found out that each person showed similar pattern of weirdness in their behavior which deviated from their former boring selves. So I widened my study and observed that, sudden rise in curiosity, concern about earth and humanity, increase in reading habits, involvement in political and social matters, extreme obsession towards writing are the most common symptoms of this disease. I dedicated my life and work for the past three years in the research of this disorder and found it to be an acute disorder which can lead to deadly outcomes, that is creating passionate humans and reformed societies so in order to control it, it is highly recommend that the infected individuals be isolated from societies to save the rest. I personally request the government to put a ban on the freedom of expression through words, especially those which uses reason and logic’. 

Saturday, August 3, 2013

A Lonely Bud

A little girl standing alone in an alley
It was a Friday evening and the school fell into an odd silence, as all the children left as soon as the bell rang. Its weekend and the school won’t open till next Monday; the joy of the holidays filled the faces of the children and the teachers alike as they left the school grounds. A lean young man in a khaki shirt and dhoti’s was rushing through the corridors with a bundle of keys dangling in his hand, closing the windows and locking the doors of each classroom, his name was Appu and he was the school peon. It’s past 5 pm and he was in a hurry not because of the principle waiting in her office for the keys but of the thought of the heavy queue in front of the liquor shop at the late hours.  

Mrs. Sushama Raj was the principle of the school, a pleasant woman in her forties. She was on her desk doing some paper works when she heard few loud calling for her from Appu, she went out and found Appu standing in front of a far corner classroom gesturing with his hands and talking through the door as if to someone.  As she walked towards him, he saw her and ran to her. “Kids are rotten these days, they don’t even have respect for their elders, I am telling her to get out of the classroom and what she says, that she won’t leave” he spilled out the words in a rush and anger, he glazed at his watch dials then back at the women, continued cursing children, his job and vaguely about some queue. Mrs. Raj wasn't entirely sure about what happened with Appu but understood that some on was in the ‘7th A’ class room and that Appu wasn't in a mood to wait any longer. She told him that she will manage the rest of the classes; though he would have loved it he couldn't accept such a thing from the schools principle, so he marched towards the rest of the classrooms in a hurry.

Mrs. Raj reached the classroom and found a girl sitting on the last row bench. She was lying with her hands crossed on the plane and head above it facing downwards, Mrs. Raj could say she was crying as her body was jerking of sobbing. She walked towards the girl and sat, opposite to her. Mrs. Raj in her soft voice asked her why she was crying, without raising her head the girl mumbled through her sob that she won’t leave and she kept on repeating it. Patting the young girls head she said gently “Nobody is asking you to leave dear, I just want to know why you are crying”, the girl didn't reply, “Are you studying in this class”, between the intervals of her snuff the girl replied “Yes”.

“Look at me dear, you know young girls shouldn't cry, especially the pretty ones like you, whatever the matter is you can talk to me” the women continued, “What happened, your mother scolded you or did she hit you”. The young girl raised her head slightly to look at the teacher, “My mother…My mother…” she fell back on her arms and wept hard. Mrs. Raj saw the girl’s face and realized it was ‘Gauri’, she knew her well, in fact the entire school knew her. The girl met with two great losses in such a young age, two years back her mother died of cancer and the previous year her elder sister, her only sibling committed suicide. Her name was ‘Gaythre’; she was a high school student in the same school, a brilliant one too, after their mother’s death, she took care of Gauri but it only short lived.

Mrs. Raj got really worried now, she through her hands around the girl and hugged her, “Tell me child, what is the matter, tell to me whatever it is, I am like your mother” she said. Gauri raised her eyes and looked into Mrs. Raj’s, the little face looked feeble and the dark eyes bleak and full with tear, she stared at the teacher for few moment and finally found some strength to speak “My…my…father….and my uncle……they…they….b…because of them…my sister died… they are……” the young girl collapsed on Mrs. Raj’s hands and burst out, muttering “ I …don’t ….want….go….”

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