Friday, October 07, 2022


 My day did not start well. There was some trouble in the stomach. It was nauseous and I felt like throwing up. There was excessive saliva and dehydration too. 

Was it the biryani packet I rummaged late last night? Or the junk food I keep eating all the time, when anyone offers to me. How many times do I regret eating food, I am not supposed to eat and suffer later?  There was comfort food. And food that gave comfort. I keep eating all the time. Or was it my periods?

I was slowly dragging myself to see if I can meet Echumi akka in the next street. 

She was my best pal, ever since I moved in here. She was beautiful with big black eyes and she had lots of neighbourhood youngsters trying to catch her attention. Some were trying to get close to her also. She never used to mind their advances. She was kind, soft in heart and if things were about to go out of hand, she used to take help from her other elder sisters. Her elder sisters supported Echumi and put the other adolescent youngsters in their place.

Her elder sisters were worldly wise, but were always tired and busy running behind their kids. They keep lamenting "what sins did I commit in the past, to be born with these rakshas people?" Echumi used to say their elder sisters looked very beautiful when they were her age.

However, time has ravaged her elder sisters. They looked malnourished, uncared for, by their family. The stress to survive through each and every day has taken a toll on their body and mind.

One look at them, anyone can see that they were sleep starved and totally fatigued out.


A scoundrel on a two-wheeler was scaring my wits, with his loud horn. I was furious. We were eyeballing each other for a while. He would have been burnt if I had the powers. 

The loud horn's noise made my stomach rumble even more and it made me even more anxious. I felt like I will shit then and there. An old lady pacified both of us and I dragged myself to Echumi s place.

Echumi had an injury in her leg. There were flies who were trying to lick the blood, caked on her leg. I felt even more sicker seeing her injury. 

She did not answer how she got hurt. She just mumbled, some rash driver hit a hit-and-run on her last night. Poor girl. I was about to cry.

She was asking feebly "what brings you here?"

Told her my symptoms from the morning and I told her it is getting worser and worser every moment. I started to cry.

Echumi was nonchalant. Her eyes were sorrowful and she gave a 1000 yard stare.

Least expected of her. I expected her to come close and comfort me. She did not even move! May be her injury?

She drew a long breath and sighed. What she asked, shook me to the core!

Did you sleep with anyone, recently?

I was aghast. I said "No di. I think this could be some bad food, I ate. You know I keep eating...whatever Murugan brings from his home."

Her eyes went wide.

She interrupted. Her voice rose. Her voice was quivering.

"I told you so many times, to avoid the company of Murugan. Did he touch your private parts?"

I was trying to think hard. In fact, he did three weeks back. We were close. His hands were all over me. He rubbed... it felt good too... and the pain.. did not expect that.. that too, from him..

I was reliving my experience, and lost in thoughts.

I hesitantly said "yes". But, I did not understand what was wrong with what Murugan did, and why she was asking this.

She screamed her lungs out.. "I KNEW"

Her eyes filled up immediately. She came close, put her forehead on my shoulder and said this crying softly.

"You are too young to understand the ways of these people dear. Murugan has inseminated you. You will soon get a calf. Every single day you will be milked dry even while your calf cries hungry. Whenver your milk production goes down, you will be made pregnant again. Again and again.. The day you fall sick and stop producing milk, you will be sold to slaughter. My sisters are already going through this. I have just started. You have also joined this vicious cycle now" 

I was too shocked and numb. 

In a temple nearby, a preacher was extolling the virtues of Gau matha. Obviously, I did not understand.  

After all, I am a street cow in Chromepet. 

Friday, February 04, 2022

ரொம்பத்தான் யோசிக்கிறேன்?

 அயல் தேசத்து Senior citizen நண்பர் ஒருவர்.

 எனது கை பேசி directory இல் சேமிக்கப்பட்டு உள்ளார். இந்தியா வரும் போது சந்திதுள்ளோம்.

ஆனால், தொடர்பு கொண்டு பல வருடம் ஆயிற்று. 

திடீர் என ரக ரக மாய் WhatsApp ஸ்டேட்டஸ் மெசேஜ் கள். எதிலும் அவர் படமோ, வேறு புகைப்படங்கள் எதுவும்  இல்லை. போஸ்ட் கள் வைத்துப் பார்க்கும் போது 
வயது இருபதுக்கும் கீழ் இருக்கலாம். பெண்.( I ❤️ appa , பூக்கள் என்று பல வித status messages.)
Message செய்பவர் அவருடைய குடும்பத்தினர் ஒருவரா? மகள் அல்லது பேத்தி மாதிரி?
அப்போ அவருக்கு என்ன ஆச்சு? நம்பர் மாற்றி விட்டாரோ? 
அல்லது.. அவருக்கு எதாச்சும் ஆயிற்றோ?.. ,😳

நம்பருக்கு டயல் செய்து கேட்கவும் தயக்கம். ஒரு வேளை கெட்ட செய்தி எதுவும் கேட்க நேர்ந்தால். 
(அது சரி. இன்னமும் டயல் என்று ஏன் சொல்கிறோம்? அந்த மாதிரி டயல் போன்கள் போன நூற்றாண்டின் இறுதியிலேயே காலாவதி ஆகிவிட்டதே.இன்னமும் டிஜிட்டல் யுகத்தில் போன நூற்றாண்டின் குறியீட்டு எச்சங்கள் , save கு floppy disk symbol போல)

ரொம்பத்தான் யோசிக்கிறேன்?
ஒரு வேளை அவருக்கு இளமை திரும்பி இருபதுக்கு போய் இருந்தால்?எதோ metaverse ஆமே? நமக்கு வேண்டிய உருவம், பால், இனம் என்று எப்படி வேணாலும் அந்த மெட்டா உலகத்தில் இருக்கலாமாம்.
அதுவும் whatsapp இல் தான் படிச்சேன்.

 திரிசங்கு சொர்க்கம் மாதிரி கற்பனை சக்தியின் எல்லையால் வடிவமைக்கப்பட்ட ஒரு மனோ தேசம். எனது கற்பனையும், உனது கற்பனையும், நமது கற்பனையும் சேர்ந்து சங்கமிக்கும் மனோ வெளி. 

மெலிதாக புன்னகைத்தேன். 

ஆமாம். ரொம்பத்தான் யோசிக்கிறேன்!

Thursday, May 24, 2018


Scene 1

It was early evening. Dark skies about to burst rain any time. He had the urge to reach to his home, before it started to rain. 

He was restless. Impatient and edgy.

The rocky knoll, where he was standing was still hot with the afternoon sun. He needed to reach the other side. The knoll had lots of thorny bushes and he must be watchful where he was setting his foot.

He heard some rustling sound. His sixth sense said, there is some danger nearby. The smell of the humid air, had a tinge of putrefying blood.  He could sense that the animal is going to charge towards him in the next one or two steps. The big dotted one!

He was getting angry. The animal was blocking his way to his home. He had lost few of his family members to the wild animals recently. Including his child born during last summer. He felt sad, as the memories flashed - of putting the remains of the child half eaten by the big dotted one, to rest.

The anger grew up to a full rage. His body tightened and the breathing became fast and heavy. His fist tightened to an iron grip. He could hear the growl and more rustling of leaves.

In a flash, the yellow colour of the big dotted one, leapt towards him from the high ground.


The club landed exactly on the side of the head of the big dotted one. The momentum of the leap along with the sudden hit, made the big dotted one to lose balance and fall with its face down on the rock. He ran behind, and landed another big blow, breaking the spine of the big dotted one. 

Big dotted one tried to fight back – clawing its paws in the air. He was determined. His rage was uncontrollable. He kept hitting until the growl turned to a whimper and ended with just spasms.

By the time he reached home, rain started to pour in thick and heavy.  He ran into his home and could see that his wife and kids were all cuddled together tight, sitting in the corner.

He could not see his other clan folks. His wife was relieved to see him and ran towards him, leaving the baby down. She must have also heard the growl. She saw the blood stains, some minor injuries and the frayed club.

She wanted to say something. But she could not.
He wanted to say something. But he could not.

Because language was not invented by then. The year was 10,000 BC. All they did was embrace each other.


Scene 2
Rampal held his pike tight. Anxious, fearful. He was uttering a silent prayer and looked around. His cousin Kishan was also muttering something. Tried hard to hear what he was saying. It turned out to be a filthy curse.

Rampal could even smile, when the raiders can turn up any time.

The village elders had warned. Every fourth or fifth generation, it was repeating.  The wealth of the five rivers, created lot of animosity and jealousy with the desert dwellers. They rallied young clansmen, created an army and march towards the land of five rivers, to plunder. The promise of wealth, food and women never failed to turn on youngsters.

The raiders were relentless.

This time the villagers had advance information through the herdsmen. They could see the scouts of the desert dwellers hiding in a bush in the knoll. The herdsmen raised the alarm to the village elder, informing about the scouts in the hills trying to reconnaissance the village. 

If the scouts go back to the desert men across the river, then their army will certainly land in. Humiliation to their clan women, loss of relatives and friends. The village is as good as gone. The face of young Bano came to his mind.

The Village elder quickly raised a small group of men to deal with the desert army’s scouts and sent them to the hills with the instruction, Never let them escape.
The leader of the scout was not aware of the ambush in-waiting. He and his fellow men, scanned the perimeter and they crossed the small patch of open area in the hill, overlooking the village. They will camp tonight in the shades of the bushes, eating their last remnants of the goat meat and the flat bread they had packed with them two days back.

After a while...
The scout leader gave an expression of surprise when he saw Rampal. A fearful villager with wide eyes and open mouth. The villager was about to say something.
Rampal was equally surprised. The scout leader was well over 6 ½ feet, broadly built and tanned. If the scout party escapes, that is the end of his village. He had heard of scary stories from the village elder,who kept reminding him of the atrocities of the desert men.

The scout leader then, saw the pike in the villager’s hand. He was too close to the villager. He reached for his short dagger in his waist band.

No one spoke anything.
Rampal drove the pike straight to the heart of the scout leader and let out a war cry. Kishan and the other villagers joined in soon. The scout party did not anticipate the ambush. They could see their leader falling down in slow motion, hand still waving the dagger in the air.

They quickly went on high alert and started to engage the villagers. For the next few minutes – metals clanged, blood spurt out of wounds, verbal abuses thrown on each other and cries of pain were heard in a cacophony of languages.

Rampal’s hands were trembling. Everything happened around was so swift. He was not prepared for this. He never saw such a mayhem. 

He and another injured scout - The last men standing.

Rest of all the party had killed each other. Blood flowing down the rocks. Badly injured men slithering in their own fluids, mumbling and trembling. They wished they died sooner.

Rampal still had his pike in hand. The scout had a sword in his hand. Both men were trembling. Fear, rage, not sure.

The scout said something in his language that sounded like let me go. I will not harm you.

Rampal did not say anything. He was seeing deep into the dark eyes of the scout, anticipating his every move. Muscles tensed up. Few more minutes passed. The scout was also not lowering his sword. Stalemate.

Rampal wanted to puke. He was overwhelmingly emotional to see his friends dead and half dead. Kishan’s life was about to leave his body. In the middle of spasms, Kishan was asking for water feebly. All Rampal could do was cry.

The scout saw Rampal’s dilemma. But he was not sure, if he should lower guard.

For a moment, Rampal got distracted. The salt of his sweat got in to his eyes. He wanted to wipe.
The scout charged at Rampal with a battle cry, sword held at his hip level, forward.

How Rampal moved, he could not understand. The Kabaddi reflex he gained while playing with his dead friends?

He quickly moved away from the line of charge, swung his hip and shoved the pike towards the charging scout.
The scout lost balance, fell face forward cutting himself with his own sword across his stomach, in the melee.

What Rampal saw was, the scout on the ground, writhing and trying to get up. He lifted his pike and gripped it hard.The scout slowly turned around. He still had the sword in his hand. He was clutching something with his other hand.

Rampal was horrified. “I can not fight him if he has two swords.“ I have been barely trained few days back.

Then he saw. The scout holding his intestines that had popped out through the cut in the stomach. He was not bleeding much though. The scout was holding his stomach, either out of pain or  reflexively. The scout bent down and saw his own condition.

The scout waved his sword angrily. Muttered something in a different language, which Rampal presumed to be an abuse.

Rampal held his pike tight. Should I fight him or should I wait for the next move? 

Rampal felt nauseous. The earth was spinning around him.Rampal wanted to sit down and pee.

The scout tried to stand up, but the pain was coming in big waves. He remembered disemboweling few villagers earlier. Few of them had survived a day or two before dying finally, on their own. He did not want to die in pain like this. He did not recall any other injuries in his body. Can he reach to the horse tied up, down the hill on his own? The medic in the base camp, can probably stitch him up to survive another day.

He needs to put an end to this villager. He is the last man standing. The scout waved his sword to the villager.

The scout was injured but he did not seem to be affected much. Bloody desert warriors.

The scout yelled in his language – “Come fight like a man. You dirty @##$#$ @#%%el . I will @#$@ your family”
Rampal heard something like Bano , and the scout was showing action with his sword, what he will do with Bano.

Rampal was enraged. He charged forward.
The scout was expecting this. He raised his sword and swung hard.


Rampal was lying on the ground. The blood was warm and gushing through the wounds and it was smelly. He remembered the face of Bano before passing out.

Bano’s face was up close. Rampal was looking to his right and left. Searching for the scout and his pike. It was his home in the village. Bano was wiping him with hot water “You are a hero now. The second team of villagers found you all. Only you had survived. The village elder is proud of his son in law”.

Rampal did not say anything.

She hugged him. He was aroused with the relief. The nameless, faceless genes of his ancestor in the Scene-1 woke up in Rampal’s body and smiled. 

Sambogh time.

Scene 3

His residence was on the hill top. Overlooking the Arabian Sea. The view of the glimmering sea was something, he always enjoyed, whenever he was stressed out with one or the other event. Those were the days.

Roy took his revolver. He had decided long back how to end this. Referred to Internet for the forensics report of US homicides. Plus his own police department files.

He knew the best position and the place to discharge his weapon. He set the safety catch off. Pulled the trigger. The angry hammer released with a pretty loud Click.

With a wry smile, satisfied with the dry run, he took the mobile phone camera, put it on video mode. Adjusted the camera angle and the settings.

He looked around. He saw all his awards, medals, family photograph. It meant nothing. Nothing!

The emptiness of his mind was eating him alive - day in and day out. His best days were behind him.
With the habits of an organized officer, leader of the Delivered his final speech towards the camera in short and crisp language, holding no one responsible for his death and thanking his doctors and his wife for fighting along with him.

While the camera was still running, loaded the revolver, without much thinking (what is there to think now?), took a deep breath, adjusted his back rest, sat deep in his chair, placed the revolver close to his face, and …

The barrel was cold. The AC was humming. The loud noise was what he heard last. A flash of light. 

Rampal and the unknown ancestor were nodding their head in disagreement, as their genes in Roy's blood was angrily bubbling out of the exit wound towards the carpeted floor.

They were saying in unison “tch.. tch.. Is this for what we survived all through? Fought all hardships that were thrown at us - war, famine, wild animals, disease in so many centuries? What you did was utterly wrong! Where did you lose your fighting spirit? You failed us!

Roy was looking at his ancestors nonchalantly with an expressionless face. Very dead.

Inspired by Himanshu Roy. Om shanti.

Link below:

Saturday, August 05, 2017

The Ganga experience

My first impression of Ganga from a bridge above the river in Haridwar was nothing spectacular.

“Oh! This is The Ganga, huh? “

The river was fast flowing and muddy due to the rains in the Himalayas from where the river originates.

The hotel where I stayed offered a private bathing ghat on the banks of the river.

The river was ice cold, in complete contrast to the warm and humid weather of Haridwar.

Standing at the river bank, the river looked much bigger, powerful and with an immense flow rate, of water gushing through. The constant sounds of the river gurgling was indeed a melody.

What is Ganga? Is it the water that is flowing through as a rapid or is it the static banks holding the moving river within itself?

At knee deep in the ghat, it did not take too much time to acclimatize with the coldness of the river.

The floor of the ghat was muddy, much in contrast to the pristine swimming pools I was used to.

How old is this river? Few thousand years? Untiringly transporting everything to the plains below..

The river carried flower petals, ritual ablutions,  some discarded plastic and all kinds of debris from the banks. A wild, untamed powerful river has the requisite magnetism for an urban traveller to be in awe.

The river keeps nothing with itself. Everything is carried away. Nothing within it stays in the same way.

Few dips in the cold water. Remembering the ancestors – grandparents, relatives lost in time, father-in-law, a long lost brother and Manoj Kayande..

Most of the memories were foggy. Not sharp. It was quite an effort to rake up memories of them by force. Was it the cold water?

Fortunate enough to be present in the river and trying to remember them. Emotions of their memories stirred up, not as incidents, but as blunt emotions. Not able to identify with anything in particular.

Is the river doing something to the brain? Similar to mood swing without any dominant mood to identify with. Frustrating enough to lose sense of emotional directions.

Someday I will also go away in time.. like the flower garlands that floated away.  Someone else will come and remember me in this river. May be going through the same emotions.

This river will carry the memories down to the plains.. and to the mystical nether world. Memories.. Go.. Going and gone.

I could visualize my ancestors – nameless, faceless, unknown who could have been here and running through a similar emotional state. Certainly more religious. Simpler in lifestyle.

I am running their genes within myself. Fortunate enough to bring the body what they gave, into this river. What they would have done here?

Could have been seeking forgiveness, thankful to whatever little mercies they got in life, gratitude in general, wishing well every one.

With no sense of emotional clarity, I did the same to whoever name that came first in memory. Wishing them well wherever they are, whatever they are doing.

Magic happened. When I don’t know. But the change was very evident.

The emotions were draining away along with the water. A calm sense prevailed. Power of positive intentions? may be.

There came a point, where I could not remember anything. Just observing the river. Watching. Watching the watcher within whatever I was. The Witnessing manifested very powerfully.

Thoughtless. Timeless. Stateless. Associated with no identity. No-thingness of the Nothing. The free spirit of the beingness. The lightness of just That.

More dips into the river.

Ananda. Gratitude. Surrendered state. Mindful of the No mind state.

Just Be - the One with the river. The One with everyone. The One everywhere. The One within. The One without.

When I walked to the bank I was different.

With folded palms, and closed eyes I remained in the same state of Oneness.

The hotel employee was smiling. 

Ganga has done her magic.

Sunday, August 07, 2016


பெட்டி  திறக்கிறேன்.
பழைய புகைப்படங்கள்
இன்றும் புதிது போல்.

பலதும் புகைபடிந்ததுபோல்.
படம் எடுப்பதற்கு
முன்னும் பின்னுமான
நிகழ்ச்சிகள் பளிச்சென
டிஜிட்டல் தரத்தில்

மாற்றங்கள் ஏராளம்
நண்பர் பலரும்
தலை முடி கொட்டி, நரைத்து
தொப்பை வளர்த்து குண்டடித்து

பலரும் உலகெங்கும் திரவியம் தேட
வெகு சிலர் பூவுலகும்  விட்டகர்ந்து

பழய படங்கள் வயதேற  ஏற  பொக்கிஷம்.

கடந்து வந்த பாதை
மறந்து போன பாதை
மறந்து போல பலர்
நெக்கி நெம்பி நினைவூட்ட
என மூழ்கிப்போகிறேன்.

அவசர உலகில் இங்கு
ஆயிரம் சோலி  உண்டு


மற்றும் ஒரு நாள்
மற்றும் ஒரு நேரம்
யாரும் மாறுவதில்லை.

மிச்சாமி துக்கதம்.

இனிய நண்பர் தின வாழ்த்துக்கள்.

Tuesday, November 24, 2015


"டாக்டர்  கிரி"
"டாக்டர்  கிரி"

என் பெயர் எல்லா இடத்திலும் அசரீரி மாதிரி ஒலித்துக்கொண்டிருந்த போது தான் கண் முழித்தேன். 

எங்கே இருக்கிறேன்?

தூக்கத்திலுருந்த போதும் கையில் விழாமல் இருந்த கை பேசியில் பல மெசேஜ்கள் .

ஐயோ! நேரம் போனதே தெரியாமல் தூங்கியே போயிருக்கேன்  என்று உரைத்தது.

மெதுவே பிரக்ஞை வந்தது.

நான் தில்லி டி 2 விமான நிலையத்தின் லவுஞ்சில் விமானத்திற்காக காத்திருக்கும் நேரத்தில் தூங்கிப்போய் தொலைந்திருக்கிறேன்.

அட! இந்த களேபரத்தில் என்னைப்  பற்றி சொல்லவில்லையல்லவா? நான் டாக்டர் கிரி. உலகக் குடிமகன். பேராசிரியர்.விஞ்ஞானி. ரெண்டு மூணு டாக்டறேட்டும், உலகம் முழுவதும் பல் வேறு பல்கலைகழகங்களில் உரை ஆற்றி வரும் ஒரு கட்டை பிரம்மச்சாரி. ஊரு விட்டு ஊரு ஓடிக் கொண்டே இருக்கும் பிழைப்பு.  இப்போதைக்கு அவ்வளவுதான்.

அனைத்து மின்னணு உபகரணங்களையும் வாரி சுருட்டி பையில் அடைத்து, எழுந்த போது சுளீர் என முட்டியில் வலி எடுத்தது.

  *** arthritis.

இப்போது லவுஞ்ச் சேவகனும் வந்தான். "டாக்டர் கிரி. உடனே நீங்கள் விமானத்திற்க்கு செல்ல வேண்டும். உங்களைத்  தான் தேடிக்கொண்டிருக்கிறார்கள். உங்களுடைய கேட்டுக்கு சென்றடைய ரொம்ப தூரம் போகணும். உடனே கிளம்புங்கள். நானும் வாக்கி டாக்கியில் உங்கள் வருகை குறித்து சொல்லி விடுகிறேன்.

அந்த பறந்து விரிந்த டி2 டெர்மினலில்  என்னுடைய விமானம் காத்திருக்கும் வாசல் நோக்கி ஓட்டமெடுக்க வேண்டும்.

அப்போது தான் அவளைப் பார்த்தேன்.

பல கலரில் சாயம் பூசிய தலைமுடியை குதிரை வால் கொண்டையை போட்டிருந்தாள் . அதில் செருகி வைத்திருந்த ஒரு வெய்யில் கண்ணாடி. நாவல் பழ உதட்டுச் சாயம். கையில்லா சட்டையில்  கை முழுவதும் பல நிற வண்ணத்தில் காளியின் 3டி டாட்டூ. சிறுத்தை பிரிண்டில் இறுக்கமாக கால்சட்டை. ஸ்போர்ட்ஸ் காலணிகள். பல நிறத்தில் ஒரு சிறிய கைப்பை.  பளீர் நிறம். உயரம். இளமை.

அவளும் என் கூடவே வந்தாள் . 

"you are also late for the flight? we gotta rush."

ஆமாம் என்று தலை அசைத்தேன். வேகமாய் நடக்க முயற்சித்தேன்.

நீண்ட கால்கள் ஒரு கவிதை போல ஒரு fluidity உடன் மிதந்து செல்வது போல் அவள் நடந்தாள் . ஓட்டக்காரியாய் இருப்பாள் போல!

அவளைப் பின் தொடர்ந்து ஓட்டமும் நடையுமாய் செல்ல விழைந்தேன். கால் முட்டியில் வலி சுளீர் சுளீர் என வெட்டி இழுத்தது. வலியில் வியர்வை அரும்ப ஆரம்பித்தது.

"அம்மா" என என்னையும் மீறி முனகல் வெளி வந்தது.

அவள் டக்கென்று திரும்பிப்பார்த்தாள். அவள் பார்வைக்கு நான் வியர்த்து, விறுவிறுத்து முகம் சிவந்து, ஒரு மாதிரி முன்னோக்கி மடங்கி நடந்து வந்தவனாய் இருந்திருப்பேன். மூக்குக் கண்ணாடி நிஜமாகவே மூக்கின் நுனியில் இருந்தது.
"do you need help?"

ஆமாம் என்று தலை அசைத்தேன். எனது கைகள் அனிச்சையாக எனது முட்டியை பிடிதுக்கொண்டிருந்தன.  அவளாகவே என்னுடைய லேப்டாப் பையை வாங்கிக்கொண்டாள்.

"will you be able to walk?" ஆமாம் என்பதாய் தலை அசைத்தேன்.இப்போது நாங்கள் இருவரும் ஓட்டமும் நடையுமாக விரைந்தோம். முட்டி வலி கொஞ்சம் குறைந்த மாதிரி இருந்தது. கொஞ்சம் வேகமாக கூட நடக்க முடிந்தது. 
எனது லேப்டாப் பையிலிருந்த விசிட்டிங் கார்டைப்பார்த்து சொன்னாள் .

"wow! an international professor with so many degrees!"


இன்னும் 450 மீட்டர் தூரம் தாண்டினால் தான் எங்கள் விமானத்தில் ஏற வேண்டிய ஏரோபிரிட்ஜ் வாசல் வரும். டிரவலடேரிலும் நாங்கள் ஓட்டமும் நடையுமாகவே விரைந்தோம். வழியால் வியர்வை ஆறாய் வழிந்து கொண்டிருந்தது. 

"what are you researching currently?"

நான் இப்போது paranormal பற்றி ஆராய்ச்சி செய்துகொண்டிருக்கிறேன். நமது பூமியில் மனித உருவில் இருக்கும் வேற்றுலக வாசிகள் பற்றிய ஆராய்ச்சி. (மேல்மூச்சு வாங்கியது) தேவர்கள், அசுரர்கள் என்று கேள்வி பட்டிருப்பீர்கள். எல்லா மத நூல்களிலும் அவை பற்றிய குறிப்புகள் ஏராளமாய் இருக்கின்றன. (மூச்சு) அவர்களும் நம்மிடையே மனிதர்கள் போன்ற உருவில், மற்ற மனிதர்களை அவர்கள் உபயோகித்திற்கு பயன்படுத்திக்கொண்டு (மூச்சு) நம்மிடையே இருக்கின்றனர். (மூச்சு) பெரும் பகுதி ஆராய்ச்சி முடிந்து விட்டது. (மூச்சு) ஆராய்ச்சியின் பொருட்டு தில்லி வந்தேன். (மூச்சு) எல்லாம் உங்கள் கையில் உள்ள லேப்டாபில் தான் இருக்கு (மூச்சு)

அவள் இதை நம்பவில்லை என்பது போல் ஒரு அலட்சிய புன்னகை பூத்தாள் . வேறு எதுவோ சொல்லவோ கேட்கவோ வந்தது போல் யோசனையான ஒரு முக பாவம் வந்தது. மாசு மருவற்ற முகம்.

"இட்ஸ் கெடடிங் லேட் . ப்ளீஸ் ஹர்ரியப்."

அவள் வேகம் பிடித்தாள் . அவள் பின்னே ஓடிக்கொண்டு நான். 

கடைசியாக எப்போது ஓடினேன். 10 அல்லது 15 வருடம் முன்பு. 

ராப்பகலாய் ஆராய்ச்சி. பல ஊர் சாப்பாடு. எப்போதும் குறைந்த தூக்கம். பெரும் தொந்தி ஒன்றும் நான் சேர்த்த சொத்து. 

இதோ. இன்னும் 4 வாசல்கள் தாண்டினால் எங்கள் விமானத்தின் வாசல் வந்து விடும்.

மூச்சு பெரிதாய் இரைந்தது. விலாப்பக்கம் வலி எடுத்தது. நுரை ஈரல் இந்த மாதிரி என்றும் வேலை செய்ததில்லை. ஏசி குளிரையும் மீறி வியர்வை வழிந்தது. கால்கள் களைத்துப்  போய்  நில்லேன் நில்லேன் என்று கெஞ்சியது.

அலை பேசி மறுபடியும் அழைத்தது. last and final boarding call! இன்னும் மூன்று கேட்டுகள் தான். 

அவள் எனக்கு முன்னே 20 அடி தொலைவில் ஓடிக்கொண்டிருந்தாள். அவள் pony tail ஒரு ரிதத்தில் மேலும் கீழும் குதித்தது. சந்தேகமேயில்லை. ஓட்டக்காரியே தான். என்னுடைய லேப்டாப் பூணூல் போல தோளின்  குறுக்கே அணிந்திருந்தாள். 

நெஞ்சு வலித்தது. கால்கள் கெஞ்சின. மூச்சு எரிந்தது. வியர்வை வழிந்து கண்ணாடியில் இறங்கியதால் பார்வை கலங்கலாய் தெரிந்தது. வியர்வை தொப்பலில் நான். ஓடு . ஓடு .

இன்னும் ரெண்டே கேட்டுகள். சுமார் நூறடி தூரம்?

ஐயோ. அவள் முதல் கேட்டிலேயே திரும்பிவிட்டாள்!

எண் கணக்கில் தப்பாகி விட்டளோ ? அந்த கேட்டிலிருந்து எந்த ஒரு விமானமும் புறப்படுவதை தெரியவில்லை.

அட! அவள் பெயர் கூட கேட்டு வைக்கவில்லையே! 

ஹலோ !! என் குரல் எனக்கே கேட்கவில்லை.

"ஹலோ! ஹலோ! "
இதோ ! அவள் நுழைந்த கேட்டில் நானும் நுழைந்து விட்டேன். 

சிப்பந்திகள் யாரும் இல்லாமல் காலியாஇருந்தது. 

எரோப்ரிட்ஜ் பாசேஜில் ஓடிக்கொண்டிருக்கிறேன். 50 அடி தொலைவில் அவள் வேகமாய் ஓடி கொண்டிருக்கிறாள். ஒரு வளைவில் திரும்புகிறாள்.

நெஞ்சு எரிந்தது. வாயில் ஒரு உலோக சுவையுடன் எச்சில் ஊறி வழிந்தது. வியர்வை வெள்ளமாக. 

இதோ வளைவில் நானும் திரும்புகிறேன்.

ரொம்ப ஷார்பாய் திரும்பியது அந்த  வளைவு.

கால் இடறி குப்புற விழுகிறேன்.என் கண்களில் இருந்து கண்ணாடி முன்னே  எகிறியது.

அப்போது தான் பார்த்தேன். 

அவள் நீண்ட இறக்கைகள் அடித்த வண்ணம் எரோப்ரிட்ஜின் முடிவில் கருநீல வானத்தின் பின்னணியில் பறந்து கொண்டிருந்தாள். என்னுடைய லேப்டாப் அவள் காலில் சுற்றிக்கொண்டிருந்தது.

கண்கள் சுத்தமாய் இருண்டு போனதும், முகம் தரையில் மோதி சிதறும் சத்தமும் தான் நான் கடைசியாய் உணர்ந்தது.

Sunday, July 05, 2015

ஆரண்ய கண்டம்

சதா சலசல
நிறைந்த கானகத்தில்
இருள் சூழும்
ஒரு மாலைப்பொழுதில்
மின்னல் என
ஒரு சொர்ணமான் .

மானின் பின்
ஓடத் தயாராய்
 லட்சுமணன் இல்லாத

fallen angel

ஓராயிரம் கண்கள்
ஈராயிரம் பார்வை
கருப்பும் வெளுப்பும்
இடையே கோடி
சாம்பல்களுமாய் ..

சுய உருவமும்
குணமும் அற்று
தொடுவன அனைத்தும்
எங்கும் நில்லாது
சதா அலையும்
ஒரு உயிர்க் கூடு.
எவன்டா இவன்?

இவ்விதம் இருக்க
மறந்த தென்னவோ
இமைக்காது விழிக்கும்
ஒரே பார்வையுடைய