!!!!!!!!!

I really really did not know what to name this post. It is more like a complete "polambals" stuff. I know I am very very lucky. I am blessed. I have everything I wish for and more. But.

There are sometimes when you just need somebody to be next to you. Thats all. Thats what I am wishing for now. I am in my lab. It is 7:30 in the evening and I have a long night at hand. But alone. Like 5 more hours of work without a soul to turn to.

I have bee struck by this ennui that is tortuous. I have so much to do. My ANSYS project, my controls assignment, Math assignment. But I just cant get to bring myself to do that extra bit of effort to snap shut out of this ennui. I am sitting in the lab. I just somebody to talk to me. But isnt it strange that when you really need a person to see, to talk to, to turn to or just to keep you mute company. You really dont get one.

But when you would rather be alone and by yourself, the rest of the world is dropped on you and every Tom,Dick and Harry is out eavesdropping on your innermost thoughts!!!!

I have my finals in 2 weeks. That is the last of my coursework and I am absolutely happy. Yes. Definitely.


I am sick of deadlines, homeworks and assignments and tests!! All I want to do is work at a nice research centre, come home to a bit of gardening, three weeks of travel an year and thats it!!!

But right now. I just need a human to sit by me and think out aloud, to talk, disturb me, make fun, laugh, rant nonsense. Anything. Anything. As long as it is a human. I just dont care. Really!!!

Oh God! Express delivery, a human being...live one please!

Sniff sniff

Have you ever wondered about smells? No. Not the right word. Scents would be more appropriate. I was just micro waving some appalams. I got a kinda olfacatory reaction(read as: dont know how to express it) that reminded me of mom. I had appalams all through the week till they ran out.

I guess it was this kitcheny smell back home. I used to be rushing out to college. Just having time for a quick peck on the cheek to mom as she toiled away in the Thiru Madapalli or thaligai panra ull!! That smell came back today in US of A from the microwave.

The same way. I work at a math lab. I was dozing. So thought it would be a good idea to wash my face. I have never used the restroom at this wing of the building before(partly because it is kinda totally eerie). I opened the door and stood stunned. Man! I was struck by this total perfumed air that swept over and rushed outside(Dont even laugh!) It was cuticura. Have you heard of this powder? Cuticura. It was precisely that. And as you guessed right, I love the smell.

Sometimes I feel you would feel the world better if one of your senses is given the break. How would the world smell? How would you recognize people by their perfumes. The scents. Maybe you would feel like a dog. But still.

I remember times back in college where we would be able to tell which guy had stood there(I came from a mechanical dept. No chance for meeting a girl) by the trail of perfume.

The smell of fungi raising from freshly washed soil(Mann vasanai). The smell of food. The smell of a well known neighbourhood. The scent of vethakozhambhu. The scent of Radhika's oiled hair. Pondicherry agarbathi. A freshly baked loaf of bread. The concrete smell.(Hate it!!!)

To top the list, petrol/kerosene. Stealthy expeditions to mama's vehicle to open the fuel tank and have a sniff of the forbidden fruit. Hmm.. sniff. sniff.

When we go to a temple, the heady aroma of flowers, agarbathis, oil lamps, silks, gold and of course the Lord. Therapautic I guess. (Dont know if I got the spelling right!!). There is a sevai called "Vishvaroopa sevai" in most Vaishnavaite temples. It is the first sevai of the morn and the doors are thrown open. When the doors open, the air inside rushes out. A whole nightful of air caressing the Lord. hmmm. A experience beyond compare.!!

Kannal nan unnai kandathillai.

Navaal nam uraiadiyathillai.

Anal un sparisathin mel patta katru en theendum pothu,,,

Nan uraigiran. Paniyai karaigiren.

Brahman nasiyai padaithathey unnai nugarathano
Endru enga veikum un vasanai..

Nee yar endru kathara veikkum un..enna?

Nan than unnai parthathey illaiye?

Kalaiyil malargalai..

Pagalil vannai, mannai, villakaai, nasiyil
mothi ennai thahikum kanalai,..

Iravil marmamai, kadhalai, kanavai..

Unai na nugarkiran..kanamudiyamal ponal enna.

Katru...
very very feeble attempt at expressing my love for nature and her beauty...But I guess I feel that way. People say I have my nose too much in the air. It is true. Literally. I sniff my way around for there are so many sights of the nose we miss by seeing only with the eyes..

:)) Smell good. Do good. :))

Aah..

Isainthal nam iruvarin Swaramum

namathagum.

Thisai veranalum aazhiser aarugal
mughilai mazhaiyai pozhivathu pol

isai

nam isai...

Mile sur mera tumhara..tho sur bane hamara..

Bharatham

Given to searching for zany things in google, I was searching for Mecca. Moved on to Avantika one of the seven cities for Moksha but was sadly unable to find a mention. I found out that I could write and append it to wiki. Then fell in the vainglorious option of writing an entry about myself. Laughed myself out of it.

But was kinda unable to throw away the idea. How superb it would be if somebody searched for me online and found a biography.Probable that they would laugh at it but still.. Googled for my name on google instead.

Of course. Nothing turned up. I havent done anything important or worth thinking about for my name to appear among the exalted. But turned up a very interesting page though. It was of one Gayathri Srinivasan. She was a Bharatanatyam dancer from Kalakshetra and is currently running a dance school in Massachusetts, USA.

Her photos, her achievements, laurels and reviews.

I was impressed.

Turned me on to a track that I have seldom thought about after it faded out from my mind in college. Turning to professional dance.

Dance has been a part of me. If you started learning an art at six, you can be sure that it stays with you till death. It is more like a breath.

I started proper dance classeswhen I was six to be precise. Play all the way to the dance class. Turn serious for an hour and play all the way back home again. Dance mingled with every step I took. My anna used to make fun of me saying "Gumbaloda Govinda". Man! I use to get furious then.

Then came the time when I would dance my way to the mirror, dinner table.Every step I took, I used to make sure some dance form appeared in it. While doing homework, my feet used to tap to the ringing of the nattuvangam in my ears, in my minds as it wafted through dance class and got fossiled in my mind.

Tham Thakitta tham. Thakitta thai..tap tappa tapap..

When I heard a song, I would be making up expressions and gestures that went on to explain the mood. I became the heroine/hero of the novel I was reading and explained my feelings through the abhinaya.

I really wanted to become a good dancer. A dancer who danced for herselves. Not mere pandering of art. Quietly in the halls of Kalakshetra, buried away in time never to change among the hustling neighbourhoods of Besant nagar. Long contemplations, expressions propounded in mystic language. Mano dharma bhavas and expressions.

Dance beyond music, beyond words, beyond expressions, beyond a human experience. There have been times when I really wanted to see Lord Nataraja dancing away in wrath, in happiness, in a state beyond all human instincts to realize.

I wanted to attain samadhi in dance. Even today, I can feel sharp tears stinging the back of my eyes when I think about a passion, an omen, a plea rejected without feeling.

Any art consummates when the artisan has a very good audience. But for an artist to evolve he/she needs an excellent guide. More than apply the stringent terms of a teacher to this holy vocation, I would say a friend. A guide who firmly points, encourages, nurtures, appreciates true art. When someone is a teacher, the first thing they must forgo is ego. There will be students who become brilliant in their own right without the teacher receiving any appreciation.

But teachers are built that way. They are ladders. They accept on being ladders when they accept to be guides. They are great in all sense of the vocation as even God cannot be reached without a guru. Matha, Pitha, Guru, Theivam.

I got a great guru in Chitra akka. She taught me and nurtured me through the prelims of dance before her marriage. But after that, I moved on to the direct supervision of the numero uno of the Saraswati Gana Nilayam in Chennai. It was hell. There were times I wanted to just get out.

The stinging words that went to the heart. The public humiliation for no fault done, Favoritism, partiality ruled the roost. Not to mention the incessant hunger for money. It was always there. Always. My own class mates from Chitra akka's batch dropped out one by one. Some reason or the other. I was there for 4 years after Chitra akka got married. One of the longest.

When one day, I got abused for what I thought would get me instant recognition, I finally quit. That was the day I threw in the towel. Amma was behind me asking me to renounce ego and go for the art.

Middle class status did not quite suit the halls of Kalakshetra. Amma was'nt able to cope with the growing costs that the art brought as an accompaniment. Finally after an year after I stopped dance classes, I stopped dancing.

It was a decision written in blood. Even today when I see a recital, a performance review, a photo, I cry. For there might have been reviews like this for me. I feel like the foetus that was torn from its mother's womb and left to die before it had been given a chance.

Adum Chidambarame. Iyyan Adum chidambarame..

WOW!!!

I think I am really something else!! Probably the greatest thing since toasted bread!!

Hey sorry. Sorry. I can just see you rolling ur eyes and grimacing Hmpph!! Nenapu than pozhapa..niruthunga!!

Neenga ninaikarthu ellam appuram comments section la sollunga. Matter enna na :

I had been thinking a lot about the universe!! (No rolling eyes!!! please). I was as usual engaged in the endeavours of discovering truth and God by pondering over a empty brain. Lot of facial expressions and interesting sounds later, everyone around me totally convinced I was onto solving the Ultimate Question to the ultimate answer to all the truth 42.

(If you havent read the HhGTTG, Go ahead and grab a copy)

Then this hit me! The ultimate law that governs the entire universe was : The law of the minimum energy or minimum resistance. Simply put it states that every process proceeds such that the final state would be achieved with minimum work or takes minimum resistance route to get to the final state among its other ramifications

I was also discussing it with VV who concured with it. I tried to pass it on to everyone who would listen but my audience remained a grand total of one!! (Sigh! The ignorance of mankind!!)

NOW. IN MY MATHS BOOK. I am awed. By myself(ok ok. sorry!!!)

It seems in 1774, the french scientist Pierre Louis Moreau de Maupertius put forth a great principle called the "metaphysical principle". Now this principle was universally lauded and applauded and uploaded into most books. It caught my attention today.

It states that God put nature on a shoestring budget. :))) It states that nature always try to do something with the greatest possible economy. "In short, physical laws are a consequence of a principle of economy of means." QT.

An example would be that of the planets assuming a spherical shape as the sphere is the given solid of minimum vsurface area for a given volume.

In this way, many many physical and mathematical laws can be explained and enveloped under one ultimate truth.

Man!!

Sometimes. I do surprise myself.(Pat on the back, spotlights, awards and !@#@$$4 wake up!!)

Tittering and tottering over respect - An issue of debate

I happened to hear about the incident with Sharad Pawar and the Aussies. I am not a sports buff. I was once an avid cricket enthusiast but with all the instances of match fixing and some of my favorites removed from the team turned me away from the scenes up front.

I also watched in on You Tube to make certain for myself what happened. I became interested in the issue and what the journals and journalists all over the world especially in Australia and India would say. It was an eye opener. Definitely.

The issue being very simple. The Aussies behaving in a typically uncivilized fashion and Sharad Pawar playing it quiet on stage but brooding over it in private. It was actually quite decent of Mr.Pawar not to create a scene onstage.

Mate : GET THIS MESSAGE STRAIGHT. Winning or No winning. Minister or No minister. I shall not stand upto any manhandling of my person. I know when to get offstage. If you are f****** impatient, get off the stage to be photographed. DONT TOUCH ME.

The arguments were on one hand : righteous anger. The traditions of the host country. The manhandling of an minister and the highest official of cricket in India.

The other side : Typical Indian Journalism. " Oh!! We are so stuck up!! We should allow anybody the run of the country.!! What tradition! What culture!! Man!! Are we dumb!! Why cant we be more like..."

The issue here for a student of journalism is NOT the actual incident but the reaction and the justification. Most Indians do the mistake of being overly obsequious to visitors from other countries : Mere cricket players they may be. Red Carpet treatment, As though the Gods have descended on the earth.

When the Hockey team returns after a victorious haul there will be no media to even welcome them into their own country.

I found this review the funniest of all :

http://www.dnaindia.com/report.asp?NewsID=1063679

It is by Anil Dharker.

He describes the event. Criticises local traditions(""Man!! Why do we need them for??"""" Call your dad, Hey Bhola come here fella"). Goes on to equate Indian and Aussie sporting aggresiveness to the respectfullness in their attitudes and finally stumps the Indian team as never-be-able-to-win-dressing-room-fellas.

I really really really dont get his point here. What does he mean by equating boorish qualities to excelling in sports? YOU ARE A FREAKING BULLY. That really does NOT qualify you to be a topper in sports. This is what Dharker does.

He says, "It is the competitiveness that runs through their blood. Their boorish uncivilized way they deal with that pushes them onto top of things. They will do this to their own minister. No question. They win becos they are like that".

Sorry Mr.Dharker. That was a good try though.

First of all. Why cant Indians win anything? Because they are respectful? OK. Do this thing at the Lords. You will get canned mightily and there will be D singing on the top of the roofs with everybody else that Aussies are ......

When you are in a foreign country, go ahead and give respect to the traditions they observe there. In America, you maybe be royally British. But if you stick up ur nose too high, it will be bitten off. Germany : Have you forgotten the episode with the Chancellor and Bush?

So behave like ambassadors and good one at that. You are representing a country. A continent. Carry more of your pleasanter( though difficult to get) expressions and make an impression. A positive one.

Know who you are dealing with. What is disrespect and what is not. Playing cricker is your only job. Do some background research when you are not at it. When touring a country, make sure you read up everything about it.

Males walking shoulder to shoulder is very common in Asia. Call them gay and you will be a freaking ------- for life.

Culture and tradition are to be respected by the citizens of a country first. "Look at this little fella. He is calling his dad a overgrown pig" is not amusing. You would not want that. Respect is inbuilt into every action in India. Respect that. For Heaven's sake :BE PROUD OF IT!!!

Anyways. The incident was to be regretted. Lets hope that in the TRUE spirit of the game, we forget it and move along. After all, arent these the eccentricities that make the game truly watchable?

Good show Mr.Pawar and Aussies.

As for Indian journalists, What else is there to say then they are Indians. Forgive them!!!

Sorry Mates!!!

I wonder

I often wonder on the existence of man. No. Of life. What ties this decaying body of flesh and blood to the ethereal world of kindness, humanity, and more importantly life, God, spiritual planes?

What is different in man that is not found in worms and does it make the worm as less. Where does this mind come from? The thoughts that it excites.

What is the connection between the mind, the soul and the body?

The soul: Capable of being anywhere.(My soul lives in India forever in the arms of amma). The body: the veritable temple of perverse pleasures and diametrically opposite instrument of spiritualistic pursuits. The mind: the all knowing, non revealing enigma.

What are these three? Are they connected to one another or perform independently? Who is the super computer controlling each one? Why don’t souls communicate? Or do they?

Yes. Obviously they must. For I can hear souls calling out to one another as they pass. Only they go unheard most of the times. Is the soul really the purest substance in the world? Is it a substance? If not what is it?

The mind? If it knows everything why does not tell us? What is karma? Why can’t it be pre empted? What is truth? Why should we go in search of it?

If beauty is truth and truth is beauty, why can’t we appreciate the beauty in everything? Why is appreciating beauty in the human form deprecated? Why does it lead to downfall? Is it because it is perishable? What is perishable? Why should it be?

Why can I feel that my body, mind and soul are three different entities: each in search of something else? My soul: Not in search of anything but caught in the turbulence of the mind. My Mind: in pursuits of what is good for me or what it thinks is good for me in this world. My body: Caught between the two and not knowing what it does most of the time.

Is there another world? Other worlds? What happens after death? What is death? Where do people go after dying? Where do monkeys go to die? Why do crows die and where? Why the elephant with its huge body die? Why should a whale die too? Why do turtles that live longest cannot speak? They would make good historians. Why can’t we feed the world by just thinking about it like the fish? They can feed their oung by just thinking about it?

What is the sea? What does it hide under it? What is the sun? What is His other side? What is on the other side of the moon? What is the wind, the rain, the air and the breath. What is life?

What is the world for? Is it an illusion like the one that was created for Zaphod Beeblebrox: The total vortex space? Why should the universe be so large and so small together?

What is space? What is time? Why can’t we move time? Why can’t we travel in time?

Why do we speak and why can’t we synthesize the voice box? Why can’t we imitate the heart? Why not the brain? Why can’t we create thoughts? Or can we? Why can’t we read people’s minds? Why?

Why can’t we look into our souls? Filled with the crystal clear truth and beauty? Filled with God? God!!!

Who is He? Or is He a She? What is God? Who is that who created the world and who created Him? Why can’t we see Him? Or is it that we do?

Where are the answers? Where can I find them? Where is peace?

Raama. Raama. Raama.

Raama Bhakti Samrajyam..

I do believe things happen in a certain way to make you act in a particular one too. Like everything is already said and done with. Maktub!!

So when I was listening to "Manjal Veyyil Maalaiile.." from Vettaiyadu vilayadu, why should I be prompted to search for sudha raghunathan(whom i incidentally Hate).. I was reading a clip about her and then suddenly thought of O.S.Arun. and there I was suddenly browzing through MIO's collection of OSA. Nothing very interesting caught my until.."Raama Bhakti." Could this be the song that I grew up listening too?

Now piqued and full of interest I clicked the link to be appointed and disappointed but transported to my childhood.

As a kid of 7, I used to go to my thatha's house at 17 North Tank square street, Triplicane to spend my vacations at. My house being 3 streets away. The setting would be awesome. Backdrop of Parthasarathy Perumal Kovil, Beach and in front of the house Theppa Kolam!!!

I used to love sitting on the doorstep with my chithis(both incidentally unmarried at that time) and listening to their talks. Mornings used to be typically at 5:00 AM. Thatha would have got up and started to sing.

He had this voice that could stun his listeners to tears. "Raama Bhakti Samrajyam.." He used to melt in the lines and decorate it with so many embellishments that used to spell bind everyone listening.

As for me. Being a kid of 7 qualifies you to be petulant to be rudely shaken out of your sleep by his stentorian voice. I used to roll and toss and turn till I finally could not sleep and run upstairs and sit quietly.

After half an hour and coffee, I would run home without telling anybody and complain to mom of the torture!! Amma used to scold me and drop me off.

But as I grew up, Bharatanatyam and patti's singing showed me the magic of the bhakti and devotion in Thyagaiar's songs. As time passed, I found myself spending less and less time at my thatha's place and he moved to korattur. Chithi married off. He wanted some peace away from the heat of the city. Patti mortally sick sometimes to make miraculous sojourns into the land of the dead and be back again smiling and caring.

At one point of time, I decided to do justice to my childhood intolerance. I wound my steps back to my maternal home. As I stood at the courtyard, a gangling teenager of 15, I was doubtful of my welcome there.

All I remembered of my thatha was the fact that he drew a knife through the carrom board when we dared to play at 10:00 PM. I had been pretty foul mouthed(for a 10 year old). After five years...

Patti literally ran out. "Hamsa, va va va va...".

Next day dawn. I was up by 4:30 am. Waiting for Thatha to start. But he did not get up till 6:00 and did not sing till I expressly asked him to. Smiled and said," Unga amma solli eruka. Nee epdi athukku poi kathuvennu"..

Blushed and bent down. He cleared his throat ans started, "Raama Bhakti Samrajyam.." Aha! The next 15 minutes were mesmerical. I was singing with him at times. At others wondering.

This went over an hour with he singing his favorite Thyagarajar krithis. One after the other.

Mama, Mami, Chinna mama, Sriman and patti all gathered around us and stood listening to thatha. It had been so long since he sang for so long. We were in tears by the time he ended.

"Throat not allright. shall continue in the evening."..

Evening 4:00... We resumed. Me just shaking my head. Thatha in his elemental music.

This ritual continued for the seven days. It was like living under the same roof under Thyagarajar, AKV, MSD, and Swati Thirunal.

I was lucky to revisit this atleast once in a trimester. I can only speak about it now for he no longer sings. Since patti's passing away, his voice and morale went down drastically. He clears his throat to sing but no longer the life in his music, his voice falters and dies down to a feeble remonstration about the cold these days.

I close my eyes and cry. I remember those golden days I had listening to him clearing his throat and wondering which raaga it was.

Once my mama thatha, his brother, a good singer himself, told of the expedition these two had made. They lived in karaikudi and took the bus to where SSI was living to ask him if he would teach music to them. SSI surprised (and a bit shocked at their guts) at their interest had referred them to another musician and advised them to start off with him and join him in Madras after their initial training was over.

Family poverty and duty again stood in the way of progress and their dreams were shunted. Their sister, my father's mother was around 6 at that time. When she started singing, people used to think that it was MSS singing.

I am NOT being proud or speaking in overly terms. If they had been my next door neighbours, I would have stood in awe before them.

Today I stand with my head bowed down. For I did not inherit the musical legacy of my thatha and patti. I can only listen. I dont sing for the fear of abusing the feeling and pathos in the song.

As I go to a kutcheri in madras or elsewhere, listen to some awesome bit of music, I cry. Languages or meanings mean nothing to me. It is the underlying devotion and the bhakti, the love, the feeling in the voice that gets to me.

Not the popularity of the singer, the perfectness of the swaras and handling : But the bhavam the depth that is exhibited. I listen for God. Whom I dont discern elsewhere.

Raama.. Needayaradha? Will not deign to be merciful to me? You who saved the elephant and granted him moksha..

Raama. Raama..Raama..

Ethhai chonnal pitham theliyum

I warn forehand : This is going to be a rambly rambly post. For I am not thinking but letting my fingers flow with my thoughts..

You know there are times when you suddenly realise something that you have forgotten for a long long time. Likesay a classmate's name who was at "friends" with you at pre school. You never forget somebody who hates you for you come across them again and again and yet again!!. Life does not give you a chance does not??

You are kinda on a different plane going "hmmm..yeah. that was bad. I wish I had remained..pre school...kalpana. rajamani..rasi.." HEY!!! RAJAMANI!!! How often had I wished to remember his name. This curly haired fellow..now after 12 years. Bang!!!

I often go on sprees like this. Yesterday I was listening to Lalitha Sahasranamam on MIO. Suddenly I heard the name " SoDasaKShi" .HEYYY...That was the name of the Thayar in Thennagur's Madam!!!

Man! If you ever get a chance visit Thennagur near Chennai. It is on the way to Kanchi(I guess). There is a saivaite madam there. The presiding Goddess flanked by all accompanying Gods and Goddesses..Her name is SoDasaKShi. Aha!! Her beauty. Man. She was one Goddess I never never fail to remember : except for Her name. I have racked my memory a thousand times for Her name and it turns up here in US of A after 3 years of being packed away into the tiny tiny little brain cell and stored away for posterity!! or so it thought. (Namba yaar nu kanchutom la!!!)

You know :It is kinda goeoey goeoey feeling inside you. A red eyed horn(:))) praising you suddenly though there is a white robed somethingamajig reminding you ought not to have forgotten it in the first place!!!.

I just melt in happiness when I do stuff like this. When patti and I used to sit together and rack our brains for a particular hero in a early 60's movies. Appa arrives and hey Presto!! That was Ranjan!!!.

Appa never forgets stuff from the movies..He was a person who used to cut college and roam about the day before the exams. But only on the day before the exams as he painfully reminded me later!!!

It took me back to those lovely days. Back from school early. Discussing Movies,songs,playwrights and the other spectrum of Tamil literature(yes you guessed it!! Patti was a teacher!!) Aaathichoodi, Naladiyar, Purananooru, Kapiyas..

Me cross legged wide eyed! Patti enlightening me on the life in TN in the pre british period. Of Dhanushkodi that was sunk. Of Thirupullanai which used to the most ferocious of the seas of India. Of the poets who had to face hunger and humiliations before they finally won laurels.

Close my eyes..See the picture of the poet who sang "Naarai Naarai sengaal narai..kandanam enume"..in the knotted cold with no roof above his head.

About the context. There was this king(no idea whom. Hidden in a brain cell. Probably surface in a millenia from now) who had the doubt of expressing the beak of a Naarai(a species of Cranes). "How do they talk or explain about the beak of the crane" was the million dollar question he put forth to his country. Now being jobless and not at war!! You can very well sympathise with him.

Today we would have broken off one from its proper place and showed it to him(if the species still exists). But the poets of the land :having no other business themselves: set about this task with vigour.

But there was a poor one from Sithimuthiyur travelling to meet this very vetti king. He did not know of the question and was despairing on finding lodgings for the night.(Now this is what I call important). His quest went in vain as all the poets all over the land in search of 1000 pon varahans had gathered around and furiously scribing away.

He repented having come at all. Forced to spend the night in a bough with no upper cloth to even protect from the cold, he is reminded of the happy existence in his own humble house. He cries..

"Naarai Naarai sengal Naarai,
Pazhampadu panaiyin kizhangu pillanthenna
Pavazha koor vai sengal naarai,

Neyum nin manaiyum thenthisai kumari aadi,
vada thisai eeiguveer aayin,
emmoor sithimutharangam sendru,
...
...(brain cell's fault : nirmal will correct in comment :)) )
kandanam enume.

Now the king was travelling incognito and heard this. He got the answer to his question immediately. "Pazham padu panaiyin kizhangu pillanthenna".. one whose beak is as red as the split open "Panan kizhangu". So he calls him to court and rewards him..

All's well that ends well.

Now I better end this now for otherwise I might end up becoming a memory. (I see your red eyes and angry grimaces at so long a post!!!)

But why did I start writing this story?? Forgot. Will try to remember later and blog again..

Have a safe weekend.!!!