Tarkovskiye tarka-vishayamakkikkonde Kalayum Manushyanum enna sammelanathil oru symposium.

News
Keralathine aagola sambathika madyam badhichittillenne dhanakaryavakuppu mathri innale samsthana sammelanathil paranju.

Kerlathile jangalkke panni panni badhikkanulla sadhyatha munnil kandukonde sarkar UN aarogya kshema vakuppinode 2.5 laksham vaccine injectionukal nalkuvan avashyappettu. America polulla vikasitha rajyangalil mathrame ippol vaccine labhyamullu enne mukhyamandri paranju. Theekkuthil kuttikalkkayulla government hospitaline tharakkiludinna chadangilane mandri iprakaaram paranjathe.

Pension nayangal punaridharikkanamenne dhanakarya mandri.

Kannur kayamkulam kochi ennee nagarangalil adutha aazcha pemari undavan saadhyathayundenne satellite chithrangal soochana nalkunnu.

News Flash: Samsthanathe pepsiyum cocacolayum nirothiche sarkar utharavirakki.

Artreyanum Pothiyum - Artreyan and the Pothi

Oru asaadharan pranayakadha - An extraordinary love story

Artreyan was obsessed about her. She was the most attractive woman in the whole of Paruthipuram. Her perfectly hemispherical breasts, her wide hips. She featured in all of young Artreyan's fantasies, with the insignificant exception of his elderly house-maid playing a guest role.

Artreyan was consumed by the Goddess, Bhagavathi, or more colloquially, Pothi. Artreyan's infactuation began when he heard the extremely vulgar and risque songs that drunken men would sing in praise of the Goddess at the Bharani temple festival. They were about wild sexual encounters with the Goddess. Young Artreyan's mind found the perversion of fucking the Goddess appealing to all his senses, and against all conventional morality and ethics.

Sex with the Goddess was not just sex, it was prayer. Artreyan prayed everyday. He would pray multiple times a day, alone in the attic, his mind shaped the love communion with the Goddess. They met at the rock quarry on moonlit nights, they met in the middle of rubber plantations, at the river, early in the morning.

Young Artreyan's body was becoming weaker and weaker as the sex became intense. It was as if the Pothi was sucking the life out of him. Artreyan slowly realized this and he maintained distance from the Pothi. Artreyan contracted tuberculosis and was admitted to the hospital. The doctors insisted on complete bed rest for the next two months. His body was too weak, he may die if he doesn't rest and recuperate. 

They discharged him after a couple of days. Artreyan stopped on the way back home, to take a peek at the temple. It was dark. The sun had already set. Birds huddled on trees in silence. The Arayal tree held its breath. It was the time of the day, the Devi emerged. The whole universe waited in silence for her foot steps. Artreyan forgot his fatigue, his illness, he forgot about time. 

The lamps flinched. A light draught. There she is. Her perfect buxom body. The tiny droplets of sweat on her body were glistening in the yellow light of the lamps. The spherical breasts through the white cotton. She held a lamp in her hands. She walked straight ahead, so did Artreyan. As they inched closer to each other, fire rose all around them. They were engulfed in the fire of their desire. The Arayal tree was the only silent witness.

Kutti and Paru were the first ones to see it. Artreyan's youthful lifeless body floating on the banks of the river, amongst the water lillies, in the early morning mist. 

Satheesh Sir's Village

Shyama: Sudha, I really dont know how Sir's family will react. Three students enchanted by Sir's grand stories are picnicking to his village. We need to look more sympathising than that.

Sudha: You are missing the point, however. Sir used to tell us his stories, but does his parents know that he tells the students about his village and family. Even if they know, why would they even think that we will ever like it so much.

Sindu: Girls relax. We all liked Sir very much and we are just going there to meet his parents and sympathize with them. period. 

Shyama: Sindu, I know all that, this shouldn't look like a picnic, but a pilgrimage maybe.

The three girls hop on to the bus that arrived as they were talking.

Shyama asks the lady sitting next to her: Do you know when's the last bus from Kandrakaade back to the town?

Lady: Are all of you going to Kandrakaade?

Shyama: Yes.

Lady: Who are you visiting there?

Shyama: We're going to our college lecturer Satheesh Sir's house, the Satheesh Sir who passed away recently. 

Lady: You are going to Satheesh's place. I used to know Satheesh. We are related.

Shyama: Are you Maya Chechi?

Lady: Yes. How do you know? 

Shyama: Satheesh Sir used to talk about a Maya Chechi and It just occurred to me that it could be you. This is such a surprise for me, the fact that I recognized you and the fact that I got to meet you. Sir would tell us all about his life there in KandraKaade. We all used to love the place with its beautiful back waters, streams, vegetation. We always wanted to come and visit the place. (brief pause) I'm sorry about Satheesh Sir's sudden demise. We all were, in fact, the whole class was shocked by it. Many students, including us could not get over the fact that Sir is not with us know. We couldn't even think about coming to his house on the day of the funeral. It was just not real for us.

 Maya: What did Satheesh say about us?

Shyama: Satheesh Sir used to talk a lot about his village life and how wonderful it was. Every other story would feature Maya Chechi. Maya Chechi was like the role model for all of us. When Satheesh Sir talks about you, we all feel like that's the real woman. We used to feel like little girls in comaprison. Dont get me wrong, this is in no way feminist. Its an honour to meet you. But you look more beautiful than how we used to visualize you, atleast I visualized you. Its weird how people stereotype people that they read about or hear about using other people they know.

Maya: Tell me more about what he used to tell the students that made you want to come here. Im sure it contained a lot of poetry and literature. 

Shyama: Yes of course. Sir's dad had a very strong influence on him. Again he's the best dad in the world for all of us. He would tell how interested his dad is in poetry and literature and how well-read he is. Very gentle person, how he could communicate with plants and trees and nature. It was almost like Sir's dad was completely in unison with nature, a person who appreciated the the finer things in life. A retired school head master. Sir's house was another character in his stories. The big old ancestoral house made of wood and earth and lime. Then the lakes and fields and farmers. He would invite us to come and visit him, but it never used to work out.

Camera zooms into Shyama's dreamy face and there emerges an grey old ambassador car. The car parks slowly into the porch of a big old house. And there emerges a man in his late twenties with a duffel bag and a shoulder bag from the car. The driver jumps out and insists on carrying the bag for him, Satheesh says no.

Satheesh walks to the verandah that is about three steps high, wooden pillars supporting the roof structure, floor is shiny cement. An old man, sits on an easy chair with a table beside him, that has a lot of books arranged on it. He glances across and tells him, "It may rain soon. Are you going to bathe in the river now?". Thunder strikes..

The bus is now running along a small village road in a heavy rain. The rain, another of Satheesh Sir's characters.

The bus reaches the last stop. Everybody gets down, most of them know each other, they open their umbrellas, and chat as they walk home. The three girls descend the bus, followed by Maya Chechi.

Maya: Follow me to Satheesh's house.

They walk along a narrow unpaved road surrounded by trees and shrubs all around. Every plant and leaf is wet and glistening accentuating their fear towards natures stronger forces, the lightning. Through the greenery, one could catch an occassional glimpse of the lake beyond.

They reach the house. It was exactly as Shyama dreamt it. The three girls walked in silence. They wanted Maya Chechi to introduce them to Satheesh Sirs dad. Maya asked them to be seated in the porch and she went inside. A few moments later arrived Sir's Dad. Exactly as in Shyama's dream. He was a gentle being. All the three stood up.

Dad: Ah there are three people! Are you all Satheesh's students?

Sudha, Sindu (together): Yes, from KE college.

Dad: Sit down, sit down, what do you kids want to drink, tea or coffee?

Sindu: We dont want anything.

Dad: How do you know the others dont want anything? You may have answered for yourself. (laughs. turns to Maya). Maya, get them tea.

Maya goes inside. Camera zooms out and shows the big house in a light drizzle.

Sir's dad shows them around the house, takes them to the flooded fields, back waters.

On the way back they meet an elderly woman in a shabby white cotton Sari. She smiled at them and Sir's dad introduces them to her as Satheesh's students from the town. She smiles and leaves.

Hours later, the girls say goodbye. And they leave.

Dad: Satheesh told a lot about all of us to them. I took the kids to the field. Kanaaran took them around the river in the canoe.

Maya: I feel bad for Satheesh, he belongs to this house more than his. After all whats there in his house anyway. I dont know what Kuttiyamma might think when she knows about this. Poor thing, she was the one who made tea for them. I dont want to let her know anything. (in a softer voice) Imagine Satheesh never mentioned about his own mom, and that because she is a house-maid here. I dont want the kids also to know. Sometimes I feel bad that Satheesh lied about his family and home. He could have told the truth and what difference could that make.

Dad: Well why do you buy better looking sandals? Why do we want to look better than our means? Deception is everywhere. (Relaxing in the chair and looking somwhere far) Satheesh was a romantic, he never wanted the kids to know hardships early in their life. He weaved a beautiful world for them, and selfishly put himself in the center and found happiness in living the life he always wanted to live through the his student's imagination. They wanted to be him, the same way he wanted to be like you as a child. These are things that get set in someones mind as a child.  I'm happy for him. With all the hardships and poverty that he had seen growing up and had gone through, the least he could do for himself was that. And I get to feature his dad in the story, which to me, is an honour, given the love and respect he earned as a lecturer.

Maya: I know about all that, I should be the last person you should be telling this. Try telling this to Suresh, it ticks him off when the students mention 'Sir would always talk about Maya Chechi'. Its just doens't sound right from his perspective.

Dad: The person is no more and if all he cares about is that, then I dont know what to say. To me Satheesh seems right, he was a good human being and thats all I care about.

The Critic's Problem

(This is an O.V.Vijayan short story called "Niroopakante Prashnam" that I translated to English.)

A fish bone got stuck in Emperor Akbar's throat. There was no remedy for this in Unani medicine. So a stork was beckoned instead.
The stork entered.
"Remove the fish bone, you'll be rewarded", said the Emperor.
"Your command", said the stork.
The stork removed the bone, then waited for it's reward.
"Go!", said the Emperor.
"Reward", said the stork.
"Has a stork that has put it's head in a Mughal Emperor's throat ever gotten it's head out alive?", asked the Emperor: "What's a greater reward than your head?"
Realising that this story was not Emperor's own creation, but borrows from a foreign story, the stork worried that literature had lost it's vigour and returned, leaving the problem to critics.

The Resort
(O.V.Vijayan Short translated from Malayalam.)
A fox entered a fruit shop and asked the price for grapes.
"Fifteen rupees per kilo", said the shop keeper.
"Can you give it for five rupees?", asked the fox.
"No", answered the shop keeper.
"Six rupees?"
"No."
"Six and a half?"
"No."
"Six and three fourths?"
"No.", said the shop keeper.
"Chee, these grapes are sour.", said the fox.
There were people wo heard that remark. The shopkeeper said he would file a case against the fox for loss in sales with them as witnesses.
When it was not possible to keep up anymore, the fox found resort in a Panchatantra tale*.

* 'The Fox and the Grapes' is an Aesop's fable to be precise.