A Farmer

By the Youngest son

Desires ……

The helium balloon seller at the Rose Festival drove my mind back to some 20 years. My memories drifted to an area in Doha known as Mughalina where a child was playing with a helium balloon in the courtyard of the residential compound. He had been dreaming of the multicolored heart shaped balloons with the picture of his favorite cartoon character Mickey mouse ever since it was shown in the advertisements of the carnival. This was different from any other balloon. It just rises to the sky and flies away once you leave it and creates the  impression  that you are in command holding the power to release it. His only pbjective  of going to the carnival was to buy the balloon. But his father was initially hesitant as he didn’t find the desire of his child so convincing . But the child used the most  efficacious  weapon in a child’s armory which no parent can combat. He started crying at a high pitch and it took just a matter of minutes for his father to change his mind. He got his much awaited gift. He raised it to the sky holding the string . "No, I won’t let you fly. You can only fly as much as I allow you". He never took his eyes off it. Such was its beauty that the glamour and glitters of the carnival just dissipated in front of it. He tied it to his right hand and was afraid even to change hands lest it might escape. Even after returning home when his family was dining, he was outside playing with it and raising it to the sky. Gazing at it with the stars and the moon in the background was so alluring. The mood had never been so jovial and the stars so charming .

But just like a needle popping a soap bubble, his dream crumbled to dust all on sudden . The string tied to his hand snapped and the balloon flew away to the never ending horizon. He just stood there motionless like a statue for about 5 minutes. He could not understand what had happened. He pinched himself to ensure that he was not dreaming. He felt as if his world had turned upside down. He had lost his hard fought gift just like that. Slowly the fear of facing others crept to his mind . He couldn’t face his father, mother, siblings and the neighbors as a loser. His little mind thought of ways to escape the agony. He decided to run away and went towards the compound gate, but the security guard was there. Therefore he decided to hide in the car porch and wait for the security guard to sleep. In the meantime his parents had sensed his long time absence and had begun to look for him . The whole colony woke up and started searching for him. Children joined elders calling him by his name and earnestly requesting him to come out. His mind became filled with guilt and shame. Tears started wetting his tender cheeks. His weak heart could withstand it no more. He decided to run towards the gate. But by that time his father found him at his hiding place, ran towards him , took him in his arms and kissed him on his cheeks in front of the much relieved residents of the compound. His mother was waiting at home in tears. She could not stop  weeping even after finding his missing child unhurt. It took a few minutes for her to believe her eyes . She took him to his bed and he soon fell asleep.

I just told you of my first attempt to abscond. When I ponder over it now I feel how silly I was to think of abandoning everything so dear to me , just to escape the agony of losing something as simple as a balloon. But this is the way that human mind works. Every one of us has this feeling in the heart of our hearts. We never like to part with our likes. The feeling of losing something we like is so strong in human mind that he would sacrifice everything, even his life to hold on to it. On July 18, 2006 the former football player V P Satyan committed suicide writing a note that he was vexed in his life as he had lost his wealth and was also addicted to drinking and gambling. This is just an example of the vast number of such incidents .Husband does not turn up to take his wife to the theatre on the wedding anniversary day as promised, wife commits suicide; salty dish preparation annoys mother in law, daughter in law commits suicide; father forgets to purchase new clothes for birthday, son commits suicide; mother does not permit her daughter to go for picnic, daughter commits suicide ; so on and so forth.

Human desires keep on growing one after the other. I cannot remember how many times I have prayed, Oh God, fulfill this need of mine, I would be the happiest person in the world. Once it is fulfilled another one pops in . I think I use this excuse almost every day. My  higher studies , examinations, competitions, ambitions, marriage and the list never ends. Rightly said by Aristotle that, “It is the nature of desire not to be satisfied, and most men live only to gratify it”. Despite being proclaimed as the most powerful and determined creature on earth due to his Giga mind, it is his mind that renders him the weakest of all creatures . His desire for the material pleasures makes him vulnerable. “How helpless we are, like netted birds , when we are caught by desire” , Belva Plain.

But man devoid of desires is nothing . I tried to cleanse my mind of desires. But then I realized that it is these desires that have sustained so far. I wake up every day to fulfill my desires. People without desires are like a cut loose kite, flying but lifeless. I had tried to sleep without any longing for the next day. But then I understood why I should wake up at all. Like an Arab saying goes, “Dwell not upon thy weariness, thy strength shall be according to the measure thy desires”. It is only when your desire overpowers yourself and you fails to attain them, that most of the people are thrown into chaos. Controlling ones desires is easier said than done as Aristotle once said, “ I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who overcomes his enemies”.

By the eldest son

Life with cats

In my whole life I have seen many cats .i not only saw them. I have some memories about them. Back in 2004 , I found a kitten ,well actually it found me . Wherever I go it followed me and went through my legs. I wanted to show it to my neighbors but I had no idea how to get it there. First I put him in a plastic bag and tried take him there. But it broke the cover .then I tried another way. I moved to a place and it came to me and started going through my legs. I moved a little more front and it followed .i kept moving to reach the house with cat following me. But after a few steps it stopped. Well, that’s all I remember about that incident .when I grew up there was a mother cat living in the store of our house. It gave birth to some babies in there. As the years passed I grew up and became eight. I saw a cat in the cupboard.

But it was not alone .beside it were some cute little kittens. That room wasn’t used so none of us noticed the cats and I believe they found it comfortable with no using in to be disturbance.

After on e year I came to Qatar. We were living in a villa. I did not see any cats there. Then we moved to another flat. There I found a green and black striped cat. I used to give it some leftover fish sometimes. A few months later it was seen no more. Then a small kitten of the same color came. once when I came back from prayer it standing right in front of my door. Well it was the first time I saw it. Well this kitten was different compared to the kitten I found in India. The kitten in India used to go through my feet and make me tickle, but this one was trying to bite my slippers. Then we moved to an another house. Everyday day while I wait for school bus a white cat comes and rubs its back on my pants. Well that was the last cat I had touched in my life. I wonder which one would be next.

A dream come true

Since my very childhood, I have heard a lot about a place called Veega Land which is an amusement park, Some of my friends had gone there . One day one of my friends had brought to school some photos taken when he went to there . The photos were looking very neat nice. I wondered how they took such a perfect photo of him in while riding in a very fast roller coater. This question remained in my mind unsolved until my trip to Veega land recently.

It was the day to go to Veega land. We had to wake up very early since it would take hours to reach there. I and my cousin wore the same dress. But I wore a different pant since the real one would not fit me. We began our journey in the bus. On the way we listened to songs and watched a movie. I had a feeling that my cousin got really scared on watching that movie or it was because he didn’t like movies. He says that the problem with Malayalam movies is that when you start watching it you cannot stop watching it. I do agree with him.

It was a long journey to Veega land. when we reached there I saw a big crowd there. We brought the tickets. A ticket for an adult costs rs.500 and 380 for children. We also bought some swimming suits since there would be a lot of water rides. We got in. I was expecting it to be very large but was larger than I expected. We started on a roller coater called the water splash. First we went up the hill to a cave, it was a little dark. I thought that going down the hill was the only scary and fun thing this roller coaster had, but I didn’t know that there was another surprise too. When we reached inside the cave, the unexpected surprise was revealed. A giant dinosaur which we didn’t notice due to its dark color and the darkness of the cave, opened its bright red mouth and made a big roar which did scare me. Then it was time for the big part. We went down at the maximum speed and then we splashed into the water . I got all wet. I, my uncle, my nephew, his cousin and my cousin went to the water rides .It was fun. I thought it would be scary but it was fun .Later we went to the pool, then we went to a race in water and then to a smaller pool with many rides. Then it was finally time to leave. It was evening and we thought we had gone in most of the rides but on the way we saw many rides we didn’t go .It was another long journey back home . When we reached home I went straight to bed. I was having so much fun that I forgot to find out how perfectly the pictures of my friend were taken . I only remembered that after reaching Qatar. The answer to my big question was that the photo was taken automatically in each and every ride Then we have to buy the photo. It was the best time ever.

By the youngest son

Involutional Melancholia

What is the worst of woes that wait on age?

What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow?
To view each loved one blotted from life's page,
And be alone on earth, as I am now.


LORD BYRON, Childe Harold

Today I visited Raipur Rani, where on every Saturdays we conduct Otolaryngology clinic at a Govt School for the Hearing & speech handicapped children. Raipur Rani is an outreach village in Haryana,one hour drive from Chandigarh. Most of the patients are aged villagers who come to remove ear waxes or complain of ear discharge. We used to joke among residents saying that going to Raipur Rani without an ear probe would be futile. Village women in their typical shyness hiding their faces behind their dupattas (shawls),hands almost covered with heavy bangles, lips painted with florescent coloured lip sticks ,men with long gray moustaches, turbans on their heads and dresses stained with dust from fields were our routine visitors.


It was a light day, when an old lady came showing an outpatient card of my college. She was in her seventies and had that peculiar waddling gait typical of fat old ladies. She wore spectacles which I noticed had not been changed for years. She was already seen at our college some 2 years ago for ear drum perforation, but had not completed or followed up her treatment.. People in the villages speak a local slang of Hindi. I am usually reluctant to speak in the slang as I feel awkward in my south Indian version of Hindi. Usually people get closer when we use their language. I decided to give it a try as there was no one around. She had come with the same complaints again. My first reflex was to speak rudely as I hate non-compliant patients. I asked her why she had waited for 2 years. Usually people have all sorts of excuses to put forth ranging from servants’ marriage to grand daughter’s exams. To my surprise she burst into tears and said that her only son had met with an accident and was bedridden. He was the only earning member of the family as her husband had already expired. She told me that when she came to our college two years ago she was confused and scared seeing the crowd. She wouldn’t forget the young resident doctor who helped her that time. She had walked that day for 4 kilometers to come to the clinic. I talked to her for about half an hour. Mostly she spoke about her family problems. When she left, I could read from her face that she was happy and satisfied not for seeing the list of drugs I prescribed, but for patiently listening to her woes.


I had only one hour left in my duty when I got a call from the emergency for a neck abscess (advanced infection where pus collects). I went to see a man in his thirties with a neck swelling, unable to open his mouth or turn his head due to pain. His foul smelling mouth and toxic look pointed to the diagnosis of deep neck abscess secondary to dental infection written all over him. An immediate CT scan and surgery at the earliest was the only way to save his life. I called out for his relative to hand over the investigation form. To my dismay an old baba(elderly person) in his eighties answered my call. He was just a skeleton, with his cheeks hollowed, wrinkles playing criss-cross over his face and hair and beard as white as those of fairies in Harry Potter. I explained to him the bad condition of his son and the importance of getting him operated early. He just stood there blank and handed his BPL(below poverty Line)card to me. I understood that he was from Saharanpur, a remote village in Uttar Pradesh and realized that he understood nothing I said. I immediately took him to the RMO ,made his card free , got his CT done and took him to operation theatre with in 30 minutes. This may perhaps be the shortest time a patient is prepared for surgery on an emergency. He improved dramatically after the surgery and was discharged in a week. While leaving the baba came to see me in tears being grateful for returning his only support and hope of his old age to him.

Once during my MBBS days I was taking morning rounds in the medicine ward. I was looking at the case sheet of a 60 year old man who was admitted with coronary artery disease the previous night. He hailed from a place called Thangalpadi which was close to my village .He came in the pedigree of our Prophet and people respected such families. I always had the feeling that these people exploited ignorant people by claiming extra ordinary power and had lots of riches .I asked him why he got admitted here as our college was about 200 km from his place. He told me he was travelling by bus and developed chest pain on the way. So he got admitted at the nearest hospital. As he was alone I offered him to contact his home and inform them. To my surprise he was reluctant to give me his number. But I my doubts were cleared when I called his home. An old lady, most probably his wife answered and quite unemotionally asked me to take care of him as there was no one to come there. I was worried how to tell him the news, but to my relief and a bit of surprise he had taken voluntary discharge and left.

I always remember my rural service period  at the  primary health centre ,Edapal being my best time of professional life. The lion share of my patients was elderly people , most of them just coming to see whether I was all right and for chit-chat for some time rather than treatment their diseases An old man used to come regularly and offer me tea. A woman in her eighties once came to see me. She just sat there without saying anything. I asked her some routine questions about her problems but she would not talk. I shifted to personal questions regarding her whereabouts. But she still did not budge. I was getting frustrated as there were other patients waiting. I asked her who had accompanied her. She just broke down in front of me, told me that her son had left her ,that she was alone at home, that she had not talked to anyone for three days and that is why she came to see me . She sat there and spoke there for another 15 minutes holding my hand. I told her she could come here anytime she wanted. She left without even taking the medicine slip , but I was sure she got what she came for.


Old age is something all of us should go through. Weakness, cataracts, ailments, memory loss are our belongings on those days. But nothing is more painful than the solitude to which we are subjected. No one to turn to , no one to speak with ,no one to support in our bitter road as Mother Teresa once said ,” Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty”.

By the eldest son

Stars and Sparrows

A roof made of woven coconut leaves. Four decades ago most of the houses in our village in Kerala had had such a roof. Once in an year, this type of roof had to be replaced with newly woven coconut leaves. It was a festive occasion when a special sweet dish called "curry" was prepared and distributed among the neighbours and relatives. Though the dish was prepared using rice flour, sugarcane jaggery, nuts etc and tasted like "paayasam" , I don’t know why it was called curry which is a hot and spicy dish. In those days our villagers believed that if "curry" was prepared , it would ward off some harmful pests that could damage the roof. Some "curry" was even poured on the wooden roof frame though one could imagine that it could attract and not distract the pests. To ensure that the pests are completely destroyed, the wooden roof frame  had to be left uncovered overnight and the roofing was done next day . For children like me, it was the only occasion when we could go to bed enjoying the moon light and gazing at the twinkling stars in the sky. I looked at them and felt like the sailors in Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem " Lotos Eaters" :

"With half-shut eyes ever to seem

Falling asleep in a half-dream

To dream and dream, like yonder amber light"

Every year I eagerly waited for the roof replacing day to drink the sweet dish and hoping go to bed looking at the blue sky full of twinkling stars.

My friendship with sparrows dates back to sixties when their nests were found hanging in a corner of our old house in Kerala .I recall how curiously I watched the sparrows bringing food for their chicks and feeding them while the chicks' eyes were still closed . As a part of my childish mischievousness, I had once tried to feed them with a worm using a tiny stick presuming that they would think it was their mother doing so and would eat it but they never did so .

In late nineties when we were living an old flat in the centre of Doha, some sparrows used to nest on the external protruding part of our air conditioner. Very early in the morning I used to wake up listening to their chirping sound which refreshed and cooled my mind like  morning breeze . I feel sorry that I no longer hear their song . But I do see sparrows now a days flying over the balcony of our present house in which my better- half has strenuously started growing some vegetables like tomato, chilly etc in flower pots. Though she complains that these birds are bent on eating the tender leaves of newly sprouted plants , I am glad I am still able to see them.

A species of pigeon known in Kerala as “Arippravu”  can also be seen here. Brown in colour, it is slightly  larger than sparrows. When compared to the  other species of pigeons it coos incessantly. Legend says that once upon a time their great grand father brought some fresh green peas  and asked his wife  to roast it. The roasted  peas appeared to be  lesser  in quantity and he suspected that his wife had eaten a part of it . Out of anger he killed his wife  but when  he learned later   the real reason  and understood  that his wife was innocent  he felt extremely sorry and started crying   as expression of repentance and remorse and his successors continues to do so even today. 

     

When I was a boy I used to to follow  ducks  just to watch them dipping their beaks deep into water in search of their food  and  see them swallowing  shell fish .My father used to rear one   female  got at a time. I used to take it to where there were fresh green grasses which had a refreshing effect on my mind. When these birds and animals were eating  I could notice   the food moving  through their food pipes   until they reach  their stomach . On such occasions, I felt as if I had eaten my belly full

*******

By the father

PS. Please share your thoughts on "Stars and Sparrows" and other posts you have read.

My email : binsaed@hotmail.com

My fishy stories

The atmosphere was as still as that of  a graveyard. The man sitting beside the tree with a pole in his hand was  as motionless as a statue. The bidi (local cigarette) at his lips was almost finished and the flame was about to burn his lips. He , however, seemed to be too absorbed in his work to notice it . His grip on the pole was steady and strong, his eyes  fixed on the float over the water, but his mind was underneath the water. He could feel what was happening there quite clearly. Small bites were inadequate. He was waiting for an unlucky  fish to  swallow the bait. He shouldn’t get too impatient or else he would lose his luck. When he felt  the pull, his hands became heavy. He could feel his prey gulping the bait. With in a flash of a second his eyes, mind and hand turn into  one. Through  a flick of his hand and his reward would be  in his basket.

This was just a dramatic pretrial  of fishing which was my favorite childhood hobby . Nothing had given me more  satisfaction  and enthusiasms than going to the lakes and ponds in our neighborhood and coming back with my a bucket full of fishes. With my obsession with fishes, I should say that I am blessed to be born in a village that lies between the Arabian sea in the west  and a canal  called Canoli Canal  in the east . Moreover, my village is  packed with plenty of small and large ponds. I believe I inherited  my fishing gene from my father. I grew up hearing his stories of expedition to the near and far lakes and ponds. But I should say that my father is more interested in seeing the fish in his plate rather than in the ponds. A strong lover of fish diets and a devoted patron of fishing, I  used to joke  saying that the fisher men in our area had two “Chaakara”(a particular marine phenomenon in which a large number of fish and prawns throng together during  a particular season ), one at the time of actual chaakara and the other when my father comes home from Middle East . The  the fish vendors would bring rare and big fishes especially for us knowing that my father would buy them at any cost.

My childhood is replete with fishing memories .When I return from my fishing adventures  in  the nearby ponds in the evenings, I remember my late grandma  asking me “What is your catch today, shall I heat the pot for curry" .Though I know that my meager catches would never make up for the day's dish , I felt an inexplicable  pride when my catch was cooked  .It was my grandmother's way of encouraging my hobbies. We used to keep special fish traps called “kuruthi” at junctions between two water bodies so that when the fish swim against the flow they would be trapped in it. My mother had bought a kuruthi at my request. These had to be kept in the water at night so that in the early morning next day we could reap our reward . My father used to  tell us how ineffable  his feelings were when he used to lift up the fish trap   full of live fishes especially prawns. My mom and I used to wake up early  in the morning to check it. She used to say that I used to wake up on her first call itself during those days. I wondered in  those days that even amidst all household chores  my mom found time to accompany me to lift  the trap. I even suspected it to be a plot to wake me up early on time which  I suppose is the most tedious task my mom had to undertake while  bringing me up. Now it is done quite enjoyably and efficiently by my  better-half.

We have a pond in front of our house. We usually have small fishes in it. But since it was a safe ground we used to try our luck in it too. One evening I and my brother was fishing. It was a boring day with nothing  in our basket. As I was frustrated with the waiting period , I handed the fishing pole over to my brother Munib .I was about to leave the place when with much of commotion my brother pulled off a large fish called “Pilathan”, about two feet long weighing  one KG with silver skin . I had never seen something so beautiful. He even found it difficult to get   it ashore. So I assisted him to pull it up. I was more remorseful and sad  for loosing the chance to catch such a fish . I felt that  being  elder and more experienced than my brother I  should have got  the prize fish. Everybody was praising my brother and he was the hero of the day. I should admit that out of my jealousy I stressed the part where I had to pull up the fish ashore as my brother was weaker than me. To whomever I told the story I twisted the  event  to to look like that it was  me who caught the fish and not my brother  But it taught me the importance of patience in  any work you do and  the need to fight till the end.

I had  got the chance to go fishing with my father when I was  studying in  Class  IX in Doha when our family moved to Qatar for the second time. There we used the costly fishing rod  to fish in the bay close to corniche .Once I was there with my father and brother when we caught a  long   fish “Kolaan”, but unfortunately the twine snapped  and the fish was swimming afloat and jumping on the surface in front of us. The next thing I saw was my father jumping into the water. I and my brother were shocked. People gathered around to see what my father was up to.  We were afraid since we had heard stories of people attacked by sharks .But the fish swam away  with the hook  and the  broken thread in its mouth and to our relief father returned ashore safely.

In our area we have large ponds. Catching the fishes in these  ponds was almost considered as  festive occasions.  All the local people used to gather to enjoy it. Experts in catching fresh water fishes from far places are invited  to entertain the people. Large pumping machines are used to pump the water out of the pond after which the mud  is removed manually using bamboo baskets and metal buckets  tied on both sides to strings. With local folks songs on their lips, the workers  clean up the mud from the ponds while others begin catching the fishes from the mud. Our ponds were full of cat fishes .They have stings on both sides .Stings from them were extremely painful. There were many local remedies to relieve the pain like reversing the cigarette and blowing smoke into the wound and urinating over the wound. For many years I used to urinate immediately after getting stung, not knowing that I had to urinate over my wound. No wonder I didn’t have any relief of pain.

Everyone has their favorite childhood sports. When we sleep at night our mind would be let lose in a fairyland where we would be constantly in touch with our day’s ventures. We would close our eyes just to open them for a new day where we can jump into the fresh air, race  in the ponds and puddles, run in the dirt and mud and return home in the evening with nothing but scratches and wounds to show. Looking at today’s children huddled into  their computers and video games, one very often wonders whether  they ever know the smell of nature? Do they ever have time to  inhale the fresh air?

By the eldest son

Caged birds

I feel that those feelings, thoughts or experiences carried by my posts were in fact buried deep in  my mind for several years. They were like caged birds waiting for some one to open their cage and let them free. Every time I publish a post I feel that I have released "those birds" and that they are flying high up in the sky Then I heave a sigh of great relief and extreme satisfaction never experienced before.

I begin my day by signing into our family blog. The first thing I do is to click on the statistics section on the dashboard . While doing so I am not so different from a student searching for his or her exam results in terms of curiosity, eagerness and even tension . It is very gratifying to note that the responses of our esteemed viewers belonging to different parts of the world have been very encouraging as the total number of page views as of today stands at 545. I am aware that our readers are more learned and informed than me and hence humbled by their generous gesture. But I am badly in need of their feedback and valued comments to enable me to tailor my style of writing in accordance with their tastes. But unfortunately most of them remain anonymous. I wish I could meet them and tell them "Thank you Sir/Madam for your relentless support "

I did meet one of our blog followers last month in India who told me how she was in tears when she went through one of my posts .Then I did not know how to respond to her and was literally speechless . Another follower had to say that one of her hostel mates who had never had the habit of reading started borrowing books from the library after reading some of the posts in our blog.. Such responses have taught me that though money matters there are still certain things in this world beyond the reach of money and that human beings where ever they are join hands in the their love of good, rejection of evil and solidarity with those experiencing pain.

We were recently in Kerala to solemnize the wedding ceremony of my eldest son who, despite his busy schedule as a doctor, finds time to publish his posts in our blog. Marriages are occasions to renew and reiterate  the bonds of love and friendship. I had some friends whom I had not met or contacted for more than 20 years as I did not know their whereabouts. I was lucky that I could locate a few of them who attended the wedding with their families. When they came and hugged me and we exchanged forgotten stories of selfless love and sacrifice all of us did experience an aching joy as Wordsworth had put it.

On many such functions I have witnessed uninvited and starving human beings waiting outside the kitchen area entreating the kitchen workers to give them something to eat. I have been so far a passive spectator such a nerve-racking sight. Praise be to God we were able to ensure that each and every person who came to the function irrespective of their creed caste colour financial status were welcomed on equal footing.

A few weeks prior to the wedding, I had spoken to the mother of my daughter in law telling her how impressed I was when I attended a marriage function a few years ago in our area in which bride had worn no ornaments at all . After ending the telephone conversation, I thought I should not have gone to such an extent to create an impression that my daughter in law should wear no ornaments on the occasion of her marriage as I did not mean it. When I discussed the matter with my only daughter, she assured me that there was nothing wrong in taking such a stand about a matter that still cause sufferings and hardships to many families in Kerala. Keralites know that though our State boasts of 100% literacy, ruthless customs and tradition still plague our society  and  what the marriage of a girl in a family entails as the demands of bridegrooms are strange and sometimes stupid in the sense that people living in huts and cannot even afford to bear their day to day expenses and sometimes starving  are called upon to provide dowry and ornaments worth of large amounts of money if they want to conduct the marriage of their daughters.

This time when I was at home in Kerala, I enjoyed walking in the shallow waters of the fields in front of our house. As I began to pick up some of the water plants, some of my neighbours and even my better half wondered what I was doing. Though I told them it was a part of my physical exercises, the truth was that I was looking at each and every part of those water plants as if I was seeing them for the first time. My esteemed readers may recall that I had written how blessed my village was with beautiful trees, plants and birds. In the past I was taking such blessings of God for granted whereas I am now able to enjoy and care for them .There lies the difference . This is one of the gifts of blogging. Many thanks and kudos to Google.

By the father

Bits and pieces

Tonight I am leaving with my parents for that part of the world often called as God's own country which is Kerala . I cannot describe my feelings exactly but can only say that I am excited. We are going to attend the wedding of my eldest brother Wadukakka and a new member named Mukhlisa (an Arabic word meaning sincere) is going to join our family. We are awaiting her arrival eagerly. The poor fellows had to wait for one year after their engagement mainly due to my father's work schedule and partly owing to my school vacation timings. I miss my Wadukakka too much. He is now doing his PG course in medicine in Chandigarh in India. I have not seen him for the last two years. My parents and other relatives say that I resemble him . I have kept some of my drawings to show them to him. It is from him that I got the inspiration to draw. My father had told me that Wadukakka had won many prizes in drawing, painting, cartoon and essay writing while he was studying in Doha. I have not won any prizes so far but there is still time ahead . As per his instructions, I am now attending drawing classes and  have started participating in drawing competitions as well.

Recently we shifted to a new house in Doha which is more spacious than the one we were living in. It has been painted in light green as per my request. Those who call at our house say it looks nice. I got the idea of light green colour from a cartoon I had watched. My beloved mom works hard to keep the house neat and tidy. Due to her constant care and attention, the white marble floor always shines. She does not want to see any dark spot on the floor, however tiny they are. She scolds my father and Munnukakka when they soil the floor, drops their clothes here and there , forget to switch off the light while going out .Some times they even do not remember to lock the door when  they go for work in the morning when my mom will be sleeping. She  sometimes wakes up from her sleep as if she had a dream to find that the door is not locked . Unfortunately both my dad and elder brother are careless in such matters.

My mom cooks very delicious meals. She enjoys everything she is doing whether it be cleaning or cooking. The curries she prepares are so tasty. In the kitchen she has to prepare three types of dishes. I like roasted beef with some sauce in it whereas my elder brother Munnukakka prefers beef roasted dry. In addition, she has to prepare low fat dishes for my father. My father likes chicken curry. He jokes saying that it is because his family name "Kozhippurath" is a Malayalm word that literally means " on chicken's back". He says that there  are several other funny family names in North Kerala which if translated to other languages will create laughter among the listeners.

My father told me how happy he was when my class teacher during the last parent- teacher meeting told him that I was perfect every respect . He added that the only negative aspect my teacher pointed out was that I was shy and that he then had told her that he and his children were also shy and that it might be a genetic problem.

By the youngest son

Indigestible

The exam in class- VI in the upper primary school in our village in India was in progress supervised by one of our teachers. While answering the question paper , I noticed that a student sitting in front of me was cheating. I stood up spontaneously and directed the attention of the supervisor to what the cheating student was doing. The teacher stared at me in anger and shouted " Shut your mouth , it is none of your business." You can imagine why that scene is still live in my memory and why I remember the face of that teacher though 47 years have elapsed since it occurred .

I was attending the marriage of one of my relatives at the age of around 14 years or so . When I noticed bride's father shouting at a feeble man among the invitees , I went there to find out what was happening. The poor fellow had apparently gone there hoping that they would give him something to satiate his hunger as the signs of starvation were evident on his face. Instead of realizing the helplessness of that person and giving him something to eat, or at least dealing with him politely, my relative had no scruples to drive that poor fellow out of the function. I still remember the pale face of that helpless person while he was leaving the courtyard of the house where the function was conducted and the derisive laughter of the bride's father and lament on being compelled to be a passive spectator on such occasions.

Once one of my close relatives hired a carpenter to make table on contract basis. In those days carpenters were casual workers When the work was over, both my relative and the carpenter realized the amount of money agreed upon between them was disproportionate with magnitude of the time and energy spent by the latter and that he was entitled to some  more money in appreciation of the work carried out . But when my relative gave the carpenter exactly the contracted amount of money , I saw him imploring my relative to have mercy on him. Though my relative had not violated the terms of the contract and I knew that he was a person experiencing financial stringency, I do not know why I still feel that my relative had not treated the carpenter fairly.

The lady whom I saw searching for food particles in a garbage can in a city like London, the people sleeping inside  tunnels after laying a sheet before them prompting the passers by to give them some change in some European cities and the young men whom I saw in the oil rich Saudi Arabia that too near the holy Kaaba bringing the devotees the holy water of zamzam and laying carpets for prayers before them with an imploring look , are some other matters I sill find it hard to digest.

I will spare no efforts to preserve those memories related to incidents that occurred at a very early stage of my life as they continue serve as a deterrent and safety valve in my life. I am glad that my four children including the youngest one have learned to share the grievances of their fellow beings. Some of my close friends in India remind me that even after working 34 years in Qatar, I do not have a permanent source of income when I become physically incapable to work. Once when a broker approached me to buy a property , my children stopped me saying that God had given us more than what we deserved and wondered what else I needed.They  were indeed right, are there any other assets more precious than being blessed with such children?

By the Father

Prick of the conscience

Here in Doha the summer with hot and humid weather in its train is departing and the winter is scheduled to arrive at any time. The other day when  I woke up at around 3 a.m., I thought I would to go for a morning walk though it was too early. When I began to wear my so called track suite, my better-half said “ It is still dark honey , where are you heading?”. “ It is OK my darling let me try, don’t worry, be happy”, I assured her and walked away wishing her sweet dreams.

The sky was cloudless though there were slight showers accompanied by thunderbolts the other night , a very rare phenomenon in a country like Qatar. A young man was crossing the road with a heavy load of newspapers and magazines on his bicycle . I have very often wondered about the safety of these poor workers on bicycles in the midst traffic congestion and crazy drivers especially since the same newspapers had carried recently the story of their Indian proof reader, hit and killed by a hasty driver while  he was crossing the road.

In Doha corniche one can walk comfortably and enjoy the incredible colour of the bay in the day. When I began to walk, the blowing breeze unearthed a series of events that were buried deep in my memory. It seemed to me that they were waiting in a row to be released from their mandatory internment. ; the very old ship that I boarded in June 1976 from Bombay to Doha , the nausea that the smell of sea caused in me ,the seagulls that swallowed small fishes, the long fish that struggled on the hook of one of the crew engaged in sea angling, the awe that boundless sea invoked in me, the happiness that dolphins and other large fishes jumping up in the air gave me, the man whom I saw jailed in a narrow room in the ship for trying to board the ship illegally, the ship’s stopover in Dubai port after six days , the man whom I saw dancing in joy in a boat in Dubai port , the ship’s arrival after seven days in Doha , some of my evenings in this seacoast to enjoy one of the region’s superb sunsets, the reveries that such a sight sparked in me, the hope that the air crafts departing from Doha International airport gave me and the last but not the least the letter I wrote to my close friend Abdul Latheef living in India to the effect that the blue sky was far away quoting from a  melodious Malayalam song sung by Yesudas" Akale..... Neelaakashsam" (blue sky is so remote  )in the sense I had miles to go.

While returning home I stopped for while to look at the cat lying dead on the road side. I was apparent it was  hit by a driver a few minutes ago . The dead cat still disturbs my mind . One can understand if  it is a rare phenomenon on the streets of Doha.Cats were imported into Qatar in eighties to control rats.  Now a days rats are seldom seen .  Drivers do not stop their vehicles when they see a cat crossing the road. Though I try to console my conscience on the pretext that we are living in an age in which human beings do not care even for their fellow being’s life, needless to say about animal lives, my conscience commands me to refrain from rationalizing such offenders..

By the Father

A visit I cannot forget

My siblings argue that I am the luckiest among them for various reasons, the first and foremost , they say, is my visit to London .It is true that  I visited   London in the company of my parents in August , 2007. It so happened that my father's boss once and only once   allowed him to take his family with him when he sent him abroad. My siblings were not living in Doha at that time. that is all




Me and my beloved Mom before Buckingham Palace

  



Skating in Hydepark

Though my dad took us to  tourist attractions like Buckingham Palace, London Isle, Trafalgar Squire etc, now only I am learning their historical importance as I was then only 9 years old. The first day when we went out for a morning walk in Hyde Park, I saw people jogging, cycling and children skating there . I told  my parents to buy me  a Roller Skate but they as usual began to put forth lame excuses such as  I would fall down and sustain injuries, it is too costly for us to by in London, I could have it in Doha and so on so forth .Then I resorted to the most popular and efficacious weapon widely used by children like me around the world viz. crying. Then my father  surrendered unconditionally. When I started skating he realized that every thing was under control.

The Serpentine Lake in the Hyde Park hosts a number of birds that nest in a man made small island in the middle of it  with congenial surroundings for them  to nest and nourish. I could recognize only ducks and swans among them besides the pigeons visiting them to share their joy while eating food grains and dry bread pieces given to them by tourists. While we were walking along the Serpentine Lake, some of these birds were swimming in the lake and  others were mingling with the visitors feeding them on the bank of the lake . It was for the first time that I was seeing some of those birds so closely. When my mom tried to feed them these brids  ran to her to snatch the bread pieces from her  , tens of pigeons and sparrows rushed to her to grab food grains from her hand and some of them even sat on her shoulders for a while competing with other birds to take what she gave them. It was indeed a splendid scene.

The only bird I have seen so closely in India was parrots carried in cages by the so called fortune tellers and soothsayers . They roam in the rural areas to exploit the illiterate and some times even  educated villagers. Some cards are laid before these people and the door of the cage is open to let parrot go out and take one of the cards from which they claim that they can tell the future of the person concerned . The parrot will not fly away since it does not know that there is  a world out side other than its cage to which it returns soon after its mission  is over.

Serpentine Lake

My dad tells me that he does not like to see birds in cages , that he still remembers the opening verses a Malayalam poem he had learned in upper primary classes “ Vittayakkuka Koottilninnenne nhanottuvaanil parannu nadakkatte( please free me from the cage, let me fly freely in the air) by Naalaappattu Baalamaniyamma, the mother of the celebrated writer Kamala Surayya ( Madhavikkutty) and  that he loves to watch flocks of birds flying high up in the sky ..

It seemed to me that London was indeed a land of flowers, parks and gardens. Wherever we turn there were beautiful flowers to welcome us . There were shallow ponds in these gardens where we saw yellow, red and black fishes swimming comfortably as there was nobody to catch or harm them, every one  was instead  feeding them . Since the water in some of these ponds were crystal clear, we could see even their bottom .

In the Hyde park there are large trees with lush green leaves.The trees and plants in London are well protected  in London. One can see rabbits andsquirrels running near the bushes  in the park . When I tried to feed a squirrel, it ran to me and took the bread piece from my hand. Though I tried to pat it , it soon ran away but I am glad I was able at least to feed it

 The neatness of the streets of London, the electronic card we had used to open the hotel room, the punctuality of hotel room service, the electronic road map in the car we travelled showing us where we were  and  the cartoon channel they had specially  turned for me  were the other things that had impressed me.

By the Youngest Son

City of lakes , Land of the Loyals

Udaipur, popular in the world tourism  as the Land of lakes and Venice of the east ,  is the abode of the Rajputs , the brave warriors of India . It is named after Raja Udai Singh and built up by Raja Rana Pratap. Both of them fought their whole life against the Mughal empire.A small group against a large army has always been written in the annals  of history in golden letters .History is not  always written by the winners .



Statue of Maha Rana Pratap on his chetak



Arriving at Udaipur Airport we were welcomed by a statue of Raja Maharana Pratap on his famous horse Chetak .The climate was cool and pleasant compared to Chandigarh. We were looking for options to reach the Gayathri Medical College where we had to attend a conference. The prepaid service was too costly and hence we decided to hire a " Vikram", a larger version of autorickshaw. A  slow moving  vehicle, it is  a major contributor to the noise and air pollution in the city .This is,  however, a common man's vehicle and  should in no way be questioned .We didn't get Vikram , but  hired a mini Tempo pet named "Chupa Rustham"(silent lover).



The chupa Rustham(the silent lover)

Udaipur is a pleasant place with many mountains and lustrous  lakes.Contrary to my belief that desert dominates Rajasthan , Udaipur is   full of granaries.The atmosphere was cool    and there was an   intermittent  refreshing drizzle the whole day.It was a great relief for us hailing from the hot and humid climate of Chandigarh.We had arrived a day earlier and had ample time to visit the city.

We visited the City palace of the Kings of Mewar, the second largest palace of India after the Fort of Tippu Sultan at Mysore . The palace has  a splendid display of the history of the Mewar . I would like to share some incidents in the history which took to  my heart .

Maharana Udai Singh , the founder of Udaipur was a baby when his uncle Vikramadithya Singh was assassinated .In those days  it was  a command practice among   rulers   to get rid of   any potential threat to their throne , Banbir therefore decided to remove   young Udai Singh too . But Udai's nurse Panna Dhai decided to sacrifice her own son to save Udai from his uncle Banbir by taking  him to Kumbhalgarh. Knowing that her own child had no chance to live  , she  left her child in Uday's cradle to be killed instead of  her master, the gravest ordeal   a mother can undergo. Her name will be remembered  as long as Udaipur  exists in the world map.

Battle of Haldigatti

 Maha Rana Prathap was the only King of Mewar who really  staged    Resistance to  the mighty Mughal Empire . His  famous battle of Halidigatii is a shining stone in the history of struggle against oppression. During the battle his famous steed Chetak is reported  to have jumped over the elephant of the Mughal general Mann Singh. Maha Rana Pratap 's lance throw just missed Mann Singh by a whisker . But Chetak was wounded on his leg by the tusk of one of the elephants He fell in the battlefield with his master. Seeing this the Mughal army  advanced  towards  their enemy leader . But Chetak stood up and escaped limping from the battle field, jumping across the 22 ft Gomthi river on his way taking his master to safety . The loyalty of the animal  moved even  the heart of Shakti Singh, brother of Maha Rana Pratap who had  allied with the Mughal Emperor . Chetak took his final breath there .This incident is famous in Rajasthani folklore, a song “O Neele Ghode re Aswar” (O Rider of the Blue Horse) commemorates  it. The loyalty of an animal surpassing even a brothers love .



view of udaipur from the City palace



Jhala man Singh , a soldier in Raja Rana Pratap's army exhibited extraordinary valour, bravery and sacrifice . Seeing that his King was wounded in the battle he wore the crown and royal emblem of Raja Rana pratap to confuse  the Mughal army into thinking he was the king, an ancient version of camouflage  He took the entire attack of the Mughal army on himself ultimately sacrificed  his life in the battle .In Present day Udaipur, the descendants of Jhala still carry the emblem of Mewar as their coat of arms as conferred upon them by Maharana Pratap.



If you happen to go through newspapers  and watch visual media  your eyes would be weary of  seeing news of human betrayal, . husband cheating his wife , children assaulting   their parents for money , servants stealing the property of their masters , people deceiving their own life by  committing suicide , neighbour feuds , even pet animals attacking their masters in a state of madness . Do we hear such stories of loyalty and sacrifice now a days  ? Do our children know what it means to be a real human being  .



Me with my friends at the city palace



A Picnic, fun or pain

While living in India I had requested my parents to take me to Vega land or Dream World several times and I don’t know why my requests were never granted . They might have their own excuses or justifications to put forth before their second Qatar born child. What ever it may be I did not wreck my brain brooding over its pros and cons.

Here in Doha where I was born in 1998 the situation is entirely different. Being the youngest child of my parents I am lucky to enjoy their love and affection more than my siblings. My father had told me  how my two brothers, Wadukakka and Munnukakka, waited eagerly for my arrival when my mom was expecting me, how each of them argued that I resembled him, how Munnukakka cried when one of my father’s friends said that I resembled Wadukakka and how I used to sleep beside my sister asking her to tell me stories of elephants . I know how much  my parents love me.  I do miss my only sister and  Wadukka who now live in India. My dad does not forget to hug me and  pat on my head almost every day and even asks me to sit on his lap when my mom reminds him that I am no longer a child but a grown up boy.

Therefore when  my class teacher announced once  that a trip was being organized to visit jungle Zone I knew that my request to join my class mates would be welcomed and supported by my parents. I have never been to such an amusement park. But it seemed to me that the time chosen was inappropriate as I was suffering from severe tooth ache. It was not a tooth ache in the real sense of the term as the cause was that one of my teeth was ready to give way to a new one eager to join my jaws. I have very often wondered why people scream when are riding on roller coasters and other rides. When I began to ride I soon realized why they do so. First I played a car racing game. There was a lot of fun in it that I forgot about my tooth. When I came out, my tooth ache  was back again . Then I went to the roller coaster. . But I didn’t scream but felt dizzy. On such occasions I clutched the handles. There was one part where monsters and spiders were shown to scare us. But they were not at all scary but were instead boring. But the fun part was when the track turned around a bit and then it seemed to me that I was going to fall down but the train was static and did not move during this process.

I had a fun time. I even played on a ride in which the carts  we sat in were lifted up high and suddenly brought down at a very high speed. This process was repeated for some time. I was terrified especially since I was afraid of heights. After that my tooth pain worsened. When I returned to school everyone was talking about the trip and me still suffering from somewhat unbearable tooth ache. So I don’t know whether it was a painful or pleasing experience.

By the Youngest Son.

Faithful friends

A dog is often described as man's best friend. In sixties when I was schooling, my father had a pet dog. He was white in colour, agile and alert. Until its death, it did not bite or harm human beings physically. In those days dogs were not kept in kennels but were let loose unless and until they were ferocious. Our dog roamed in our village and thus became popular among the villagers. The children preferred to call him valiyatharayile moothaappa or elder uncle of valiyatharayil (our house name). I liked to compare his roaming to an inspection tour to maintain law and order in the village . But unfortunately he had some times stolen baskets of fresh fish and bowls of cooked rice from the houses of poor fishermen living in huts. When such people complained to my dad. I had seen him scolding his dog and the latter lying down in a prostrating posture before his master wagging its tale as if to apologize for his mistake.

One day a rabbit belonging to an affluent family living in the vicinity of our house was found dead beside its cage. The owner alleged that it was killed by our dog after breaking its cage. I don’t remember how my dad had dealt with their complaint. As far as I was concerned , the incident symbolized an act of heroism performed by our dog for breaking a cage supposed to be invincible . Unfortunately another rabbit of the same person was killed after a couple of days. This time they complained to the village officer. After tough negotiations, my dad had to agree ultimately to their demand to shoot and kill the dog which was of course something unbearable for us especially for my dad. They engaged a person possessing a gun for this mission . He was a bird hunter by profession. Since the dog was very strong and fast, they knew it could not be shot on sight. My dad was therefore even asked to chain his dog. One can imagine my father's dilemma on such an occasion.

I still remember how my dad had called his dog on that inauspicious day and how the latter had bowed his head to be chained in strict obedience though he had never been chained before. I looked at the person who was going to kill my dog. Though he was a thin man in his sixties wearing spectacles and looking tired, he was an executioner in my eyes. My dad tied the other end of the chain to a coconut tree in the adjacent plot of land and people gathered around the tree to witness the event. I became restless and my pulse rate increased. I ran away from our home and stood at a distance whereby I would hear or see nothing. After a few minutes I heard people booing and hissing. When I returned to our house my father told me that as soon as the hunter tried to aim his gun at the dog, it jumped, broke the chain and ran away sparking laughter among the onlookers. We thought that our dog would never return to our house but it did return next night but was tired and scared .

When they came again accompanied by the shooter after one or two days, the dog was sleeping under the jack fruit close to our house. After seeking permission from my father, the man shot at our dog. It screamed in pain and fled without allowing the person to shoot him once gain. We thought that the dog would die while running away and we would never see him again but it was a pleasant surprise to us when he returned home after one or two days limping as he was shot on one of his forelegs. I can still see the wound on his leg in my mind. There were no other wounds or fractures on his body.

Though they approached my dad once again to shoot his dog, the latter never allowed them to touch him telling them it was enough. His wounds soon healed, he resumed its roaming in our village and lived with us a few more years until he died of geriatric ailments.

In 1994 when I was living in Doha as a bachelor, a female cat used to frequent my room. It was a beautiful and healthy cat yellow in colour with black stripes on its body. She began to push her head or rub her body against my leg to show its affection and appreciation and I enjoyed her innocence. Sometimes I inadvertently stepped on its body but what struck me was that it only screamed in pain but never growled or reacted violently as other cats do. Whenever I went to mosque to pray, she used to accompany me up to the mosque and wait until I finish my prayer. If the door of my room was closed when she came and she knew I was in the room she would jump and open the door by pushing its handle. The photo of the cat opening the door in this way is still in our old album. It soon gave birth to five beautiful kittens. After a few months , it disappeared all on a sudden . Its fate might not be different from several cats being hit and crushed by cars on the streets of Doha.

I remember a pious and ascetic Muslim scholar, Alwaye Musliyar by name, who lived in a mosque in the city of Chavakkad whose hobby was feeding cats. He seldom spoke to people. I had watched tens of cats running to him and snatching food from his hand while he fed them smiling and some times speaking to them.

By the father

Rural Simplicities

When ever I think of my village in South Kerala situated around 2000 miles away from Qatar where I now live , it brings nostalgic memories. My village is sandwiched between Arabian sea in the west and a canal in the east. In the not so distant past, lush green paddy fields, ponds and coconut palms adorned my village . Mangoes, jackfruits, papayas and different verities of bananas were in abundance. Cashew trees produced sweet and beautiful fruits and delicious nuts .Since its branches grew side ways children climbed on them and played.

Bats used to come during their nocturnal journeys to suck the nectar of banana flowers . In those days , they nested on a banyan tree in the nearby village by hanging themselves on it. The sight of bats hanging on banyan tree in large numbers resembled brown handbags hung in a leather shop.

There were rare verities of plants and trees no more seen these days. Mmurukkumaram or Indian coral tree is one among them . They flower at the peak of dry season when they are completely leafless. I still remember such a tree covered by pure red flowers. Just visualize a tree that sheds its leaves and replaces them with red flowers that envelop it as whole. Was it like a red silk carpet , oh no, it was more enchanting and enticing , something that words cannot express, a feast for ones eyes to the extent that now, after forty years, I can still visualize the splendid scene and derive an immense pleasure from it.

 

My parents used to grow vegetables like vellarikka (white gourd), padavalanga( snake gourd), mathanga (pumpkin), kaippakka ( bitter gourd) etc .close to our house for domestic consumption. For children like me in those days what mattered was watching the plants grow up and bear fruits. The seeds were sown in a specially prepared area in the soil and watered manually every day. Chemical fertilizers were rare in those days and ash or dry cow dung was instead added to the soil . Every morning I used go and check whether the seeds had sprouted. The tiny and tender leaves emerging from the soil afforded me extreme satisfaction tinted with happiness. Our joy and excitement grew hand in hand with the growing vegetable plants. On some occasions I could see crystal like dew drops on the leaves of these plants early in the morning . Though I knew that it was just a water drop, I had several times tried to touch them to experience its soothing effect. When the leaves of these plants fluttered in the breeze, and buds and flowers appeared on the plants , our joy knew no bounds. On such occasions, children like me were like butterflies flying in the air.

When our domestic animals like cows or goats got pregnant it created hopes in the minds of children like me. We were not at all concerned about how far the animals were useful but were eagerly waiting for the safe delivery of these animals. We were aware that when the udder of a cow was reddish and full, the delivery was imminent. We knew that when the cow became restless or made unusual movements, it meant that it was going to give birth. I had held my breath on such occasions . If the calf stood up and started drinking milk soon after its birth I was assured that both the mother and her kid were safe and then  I heaved a sigh of relief. In those days I did not know that my parents like many others in the village preferred  female calves to male ones and that their attitude was in sharp contrast to their attitude towards babies born to them.

During the rainy season, fishes like braal( banded snake head), kadu (stinging catfish), mushoo (walking catfish) , karippidi (climbing perch) etc migrated from the rivers to the fields and when water level in the shallow fields was low they moved to the nearby ponds which are always deep to the extent that a person who did not know how to swim could be drowned in them . People used to enjoy catching these fishes mainly by angling using baits like earth worms or cockroaches or similar creatures. Fish trap called Kuruthy or Koodu was another method of fishing.

Once in an year the water in these ponds was drawn out manually or using pumps . Different species of fishes in large quantities could be seen struggling in the mud. A part of the harvest was distributed among the neighbors and friends and the rest was salted and dried to be used during rainy season . In those days when there was no fridge or oven, these items were kept in wooden trunks . Still they were preserved well for months. The dried fish was so appetizing and had a delicious flavour.

To catch fishes from the mud remaining after the water in the pond was drawn out was easier said than done. There were persons specially experienced in this field. Children were warned not to venture into this lest they should be stung by the catfish. On some occasions I had ignored these warnings and joined the elders in catching fish from the mud and thus found how painful it is to be stung by a catfish. Once it stings a person, the injured area starts bleeding and we were advised to pass urine on the particular area to avert its swelling and inflammation. It was one of the several traditional therapeutic methods prevailing in those days.

Today my village has a different story to tell, it is a never ending story of the ruthless exploitation of its land and resources by its dwellers due to their avarice, its struggle with huge concrete structures,  the dearth of flora and fauna, and so on so forth.

By the father

The World of Alzheimer

Every year on 21st September, Alzheimer Association across the globe unite to recognize World Alzheimer's day. Just imagine the situation when one day some one so close to you whether he or she be your dad, mom or brother or son or daughter all on a sudden fails to recognize you and begins to treat you as a stranger. I have to confess that it will be something unbearable for a person like me hailing from the Kerala State of India. Those born in this part of the world are found to be emotional and ultra-sensitive to the extent that there are always reports in the press of persons dying while attending the funeral ceremony of their next of kin or husband dying while burying his wife or people dying of heart failure on hearing some sad news or students of even primary classes committing suicide when they fail in exams. It is also reported that people dying of cardiac arrest and heart attack are mostly from Kerala when compared to the other States of India.
That is why the Malayalm film 'Thanmathara'( molecule)by the veteran director Blessy based on P. Padmarajan's short story Orma(memory) was a big success though the trend these days is to watch something that entertains or amuses the mind as the people are weary of watching victims of of explosions and cold blooded killings in the media. The film Thanmathra is a vivid and efficacious portrayal of the effects of this disease on the life of an individual and his family. It is the story of Rameshan Nair, an honest Kerala State Secretariat employee,his loving wife and two kids who were leading a happy and peaceful life. To their utter dismay, Rameshan Nair starts to develop problems with his memory and when he is taken to the hospital he is diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. The family is devastated by this shocking news but tries to adjust themselves to the situation with a lot of determination and courage tinted with extreme sorrow even when Rameshan Nair eventually leaves this world for good.

The film had also sparked controversies as usual and created unwarranted suspicion in the minds of a number of viewers who presumed that they were afflicted with this disease as reported by neurologists and psychiatrists when this film was released
The other day when one of the well known writers in Kerala while participating in a discussion on this disease in a TV Channel broke into tears when he was explaining his ordeal when his father was afflicted with Alzheimer's disease. All the participants agreed that nothing concrete is done to alleviate the sufferings of kith and kin of persons suffering from this disease as though the world is yet to recognise the gravity of the situation created by Alzheimer's disease.

By the  father