A Punctuated Story !

2 பின்னூட்டங்கள்

An Indian gentleman named Karthick Santhanamoorthy landed in John F Kennedy airport on an uneventfully snowing February afternoon. When many men from India fly to the land of opportunities to pursue their highbrowish motives like
earn money,
earn an education ,
earn freedom – all types : social , economical and sexual( America being hotchpotch of all nations offers a wider variety of women(should I say slash men to sound unprejudiced ? ) for men to ladle from),
earn a lady-love,
earn a house in India- yes yes ,a house in India requires a lifetime of sweating in American soil ; God’s curse to men in general on geneis 3:17 is little harsh on Indian men.May be they have a tendency to listen to their wives more than others,
earn enlightenment – some indians find America to be their Bodhi,

Karthick Santhanamoorthy’s motive is altogether different.Even I can say unprecedented in the history of Indian diaspora to US. He has come to seek his brother. Biological , to be precise.That might strike as odd as a Bolly/Kolly/Tolly wood actor seeking a career in Military services instead of Politics, to serve the nation.With all their six packs and iron pumped muscles ,I think they will make good Soldiers. Dont you think so ? Well, I digressed. I am very much prone to this disease. So readers feel free to hoot whenever I go wayward.

The Immigration officer , a women in 40’s , eyeballed his papers in an earnest abandon. He reciprocated the same abandon in eye-balling her. It seemed to him that her eyebrows were dancing to every gesticulation of her face forming mathematical shapes – Can you believe it , this whimp is looking at her eyebrow – collinear , hemispherical , parabolic , skewed lines and at last it came an inch closer to forming a continuous sine wave touching each other. But she cleared and looked up.

“You are from India ? Right ! Are you actually an Indian”

I know this might sound foppish , readers. But this is not said without any significance. Every damn thing in the world is significant and happens for a purpose. Courtesy : Chaos Theory. A geographically sensitive eye would have catched the oddity.He is 6.2 ft tall tanned white skin with golden hair and azure eyes. His aquiline nose and the thin skinny lips will be at right angles whenever he grin .Yes he has an American appearance and an Indian name.To end it all, he was born and brought up in a small town of Tamilnadu and never have ventured out. This is his first trip abroad.

Now the clever lot among you will be seriously guessing what the story behind this Indian boy trapped in an American body.I tell you guys you got it. It is no different from any sentimental-sick stories churned out by Bolly/Kolly/Tolly wood at a rate of 100 per year.An american girl in a student transfer program or in red cross mission or as a tourist …….falls for a local guy….. they couldn’t get married due to inter-national differences….girl becomes pregnant .gives birth to twins …..leaves one child in an ashram…takes the other to America…..children grow up….the ashram head spill the beans in his dying bed about his mother and brother..mother is already dead…embarks on a journey to meet his brother ….blah blah blah.If you find this unconvincing , chart your own story.

Many could have noticed that I have no knack of handling a nostalgic subject. Yes , nostalgia nauseates me. I don’t like looking back.See I again digressed.Let us get back to our hero. Damn, I missed him. Where is this tall american guy with Indianness written all over him? There he is.! He has been captured by an awaiting taxi driver near the exit.I could never understand how these taxi drivers always get the right guys and the fresh-landing-Indians always get the wrong ones. I am sure our hero would lose a good amount of dollars.

The driver walked him to a blue mini-van. They stowed the luggage in the rear seat . Karthick Santhanamoorthy handed over a nicely folded printout. May be, address. The van farted , reversed and fled.Inside the van he was fumbling with the seat belt. Noticing his fiasco , the driver buckled the belt in one hand for him.His other hand carefully steered the wheel. Without taking his eyes off the road,he asked “Where are you from ?”

This might be the 10th time Karthick Santhanamoorthy is facing this question.Still untired ,he recounted his sobbing story again to the 10th listener more avidly.After a 30 minute of feet drenching story-telling ,the perceptibly swollen driver – may be sorrow made him turgid- avowed to take him to his brother as soon as possible. But the falling snow and the bumper to bumper traffic in US Route 1 South played the villain to this unusual reunion.Instead of flying they crawled.The driver noticing his hand bands (actually sacred threads) asked him what they are. You know Indian men are heavily threaded than any body else in the world.They have threads in their wrist , arm , neck , waist and across the torso , but still the feminists in India ask these men to wear the ‘Mangal Sutra’ to be in par with women. God save them.Wait a minute , I see a blue mini-van pulling into my driveway. Excue me guys ! Let me check who the hell is that.


Playing Dice

3 பின்னூட்டங்கள்

He looked happy. A pleasant smile was sitting insistently on his face.He accepted the Hi s and Hello s of the passers by with a slight nod. He was slowly pedaling his bike. His heart was bumping with joy . His life seemed to be in perfect pace and in total control . He sensed joy and happiness all around him and in every small thing – in the flight of the birds , in the setting sun , in the bearded man stroking the guitar to an old country song, in the giggling teens running around the park, in the unspoken love between the couples walking by. All these trifles mattered more today. Beautiful world . Beautiful Life . Blissful Existence.
He kept pedaling.


He walked fast with hands inside his frayed jacket. His bespectacled eyes were in constant search. He was having a fiery conversation with himself. Sometimes words spurted out of his mouth breaking the confines of the mind. The bystanders heard him say “Fucked up” , “Insane” , “God” ,“False”,”Flawed ” etc. He uttered all these words thrice. He felt revulsion at the way men and women live , the way people try to impress each other to look good , better and best , the extent to which they crawl down to seem tall. Image. Bloody Image. All worshipping the flimsy , formless , false apparitions of one another. Total absurdity. Madness to a new high.
“This world is fucked up big time and there is no meaning for Life , whatsoever ” , he thought.


He was driving his new Bugatti , gifted by his dad, in a mad rush. The red-looking devil obeyed him loyally. With little acceleration he sped past hundreds of lesser-looking cars. He didn’t care for the speed limit. He didn’t care to get pulled over by cops. He wanted to enjoy the moment. He was driving one of the costliest car and felt like the King of the world.


He crossed the street with his bike – trusting the signal and the world


He crossed the street -forgetting the signal and the world.


He crossed the street in his car -ignoring the signal and the world.


BANG !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Unbiased dice of Life were thrown ….

The man with the bike died. The man walking survived . The man driving the car lost his memories. The Bugatti was up for resale.

Get a Life

2 பின்னூட்டங்கள்

The forest is plunged in darkness except for the reluctant half moon beaming its borrowed light scantily above the western horizon. The rustle of leaves- alive and dead -predominates the sound-play in the forest , often punctuated by howling owls ,chirping crickets and the heavy steps of a man.We can see him coming at a distance near the peepul tree,clad in royal attires with a drawn out sword in his right hand and his left hand freely making way among the thick weeds.But what is he carrying on his back? That impish creature with lemon sized eyes ,deformed nasal pits and a wide open jaw filled with long outgrown canines. It hold fast to the neck of the man with hand-like limbs and its slimy tail curling around his waist.In a deep guttural voice the creature started to speak.
“O Mighty king of Ujjain ! Ideal of men , passion of women, shall we start our story for tonight?”
“No Vetala ,not again , I am exhausted and spent.”
“But King ,what is Life without the amusement of stories. Everyone has a story and everything is a story.”
“I know your tantrums , unless you change our terms, I will not hear your story”
“Change. Change my King “. The vetala made a weird laughing noise.”You humans always want it don’t you ? You can never stick on to one thing. Alright, how do you want to change our terms?”
“ If I answer correctly you become my slave , if I don’t you are free to go”
Again the weird noise. “My proud king, learner of all Vedas. I accept your change whole heartedly. Shall I start now? “
The King nodded.The vetala stared at the dark sky above and started its bizarre story.

In a distant yet close alien land , creatures not like humans yet alike live in huge colonies. They are a strict class based society. Each with its own form and function. The prominent and singularly important class is Invaders – they are the actual sons of the land , everybody else serve them in loyalty and faith. Ironically , invaders are impregnated with the thought that their destiny lies in another land , the promised one and their current inhabitation is only transient preparing them for the more fertile land of milk and honey where they will get a new life. The job of the servants is to prepare them, nurse them and arm them for their destiny.No one ever questions.They live in total harmony.The land also has a white sea believed to be the abode of Gods. In some unpredictable hour,known only to the Gods, the sea will start to churn by itself. At that moment the invaders braving the billowing sea jump in to it. After a while , the sea will shoot a geyser carrying all the invaders into the emptiness above. That is the moment of joy and celebration for the servants. Their mission accomplished. They know not the fate of those invaders but they just believe and relish they have got a new life. The hero of our story is one such invader. Let us call him X or Y for identification sake.One day he heard the conch sound indicating the churning. All the invaders who were ready for the ritual , armed with their traditional clothes ran in to the awaiting sea eagerly.The sea roared like a wild animal. The swells of wave plummeted them .The temperature rose foretelling the geyser moment. In a split second a geyser shooted with great velocity carrying all the invaders including X.

When X woke up , he found himself in engulfing darkness. He couldn’t conceive where he was. But the smell. A unique smell seemed to attract him. He slowly moved towards the direction of the smell. With all other senses blunted, his only hope was the smell. To his surprise his co-invaders were also moving in the same direction. Slowly a competitive urge sets in. He started to move faster and faster and wanted to be the first to reach the smell. What began as a crawl slowly became a sprint. Everyone was running at high speed in darkness following the smell. And they saw a light in the dark, on moving closer it seemed like a round casket floating in the air radiating a white glow. The urge in everyone doubled. X was leading the race along with few others .But in one swift jump, X lunged forward ahead of others and hit the white casket first. The casket willingly dragged him inside. His limb got cut and dropped out. But he felt no pain. He found himself immersed in a liquid full of the smell that attracted him. His mutilated body slowly floated in the liquid .He felt his body is being pulled apart. Suddenly he realised this is his destiny. He smiled and said “ I get a new Life” before disintegrating completely. And for your information King, other invaders couldn’t get in to the casket after X’s entry. They just died in the darkness.

Now what is this story about ? and why did X say I get a new life ?

The King looked totally awed and perplexed by the story. He couldn’t understand head and tail of it.He started fidgeting , trying to focus all his mental faculties on the story.He has never heard of any such land nor any such people. He felt ashamed at the very thought of an imp outwitting him. Atlast in a heavy saddened tone he spoke:
“ O wise Vetala, I accept my defeat and give you your freedom but reveal the answer to this bemusing story before taking leave”
Vetala unclutched its hands around his neck and soared into the air. Hovering around, it looked down at the King and shouted,

“O poor mortal King of Human
Answer to this story lies
Part in man , Part in woman
In whose union we get a Life.

If you still don’t know
May be thousands of years later
Your sons will know.”