An Odyssey

എനിക്കു ഒരുപാടു ഇഷ്ടമുള്ള വരികളാണു ..... കോളെജിലെ ഓര്‍മകള്‍ വീണ്ടും... അവിടെ വച്ചു കുറിച്ച വരികള്‍... സ്വന്തമായി ഞാനെന്നും കരുതിയതെല്ലാം, എന്‍ പിന്‍ വിളികള്‍ക്കു കാതോര്‍ക്കാതങ്ങ്‌ അകന്നു പോയി. മൂകമാം ഈ സന്ധ്യയില്‍ ഞാന്‍ ഒരു ചെറുപുഷ്പ്പം പോല്‍ വാടി നില്‍ക്കെ, ദൂരെ ആ സാഗരം പാടും ഒരു ഗാനം കാറ്റായി എന്നെ സ്പര്‍ശിക്കവെ.. എന്‍ ഉള്‍കണ്ണൂ കണ്ടു ആ സത്യത്തെ.. ഒന്നും ആരുടെയും സ്വന്തമല്ല, എല്ലാം മനുഷ്യഹ്രുദയത്തിണ്റ്റെ ചാഞ്ജാട്ടം മാത്രം. എന്നു "സ്വന്തം", രാഹുല്‍ എസ്‌. നായര്‍

It' tough!! Ok.. coming to what's tough...I cooked up this whole blog because i was bored in office today. Yeah! I did . Cool right. Iknow. Them in the title basically refers to three beautiful blond super sexy chicks who I live with. OH!!Yeaaaaaah!! See, now you are imagining. Now as the brain exercise is over, "them" actually means my room mates who are everything but _______ blond super _____ chicks. [Those parts have actually been censored for my existence on earth.] Them 1 is a guy a named Jobin or Jobsy[yeah like Chopsuey.chopsuey jobsy,jobsy chopseuy.. ahem!!] Fact File ---------- Name : Jobin Thomas Interests: watching movies( that too romantic english movies...) and browsing Habit : Nocturnal(sleep : 5-9 am). Nocturnal doesn't sound right. sort of like a cross between software developers : one who did morning shift and one who did night shift. Habitat: Computer Room NO!!NO!! NO!! you got it wrong. He is not the guy with thick glasses staring at the comp...

കഴിഞ്ഞ ദിവസം പഴയയൊരു സഞ്ജിയില്‍ കിടന്ന കിട്ടിയ ഒരു കീറ കടലാസില്‍ എഴുതിയിരുന്നതാ... തിയതി - 10-04-2006 നിറഞ്ഞു എന്‍ മിഴികലില്‍ കണ്ണുനീര്‍ തുള്ളികള്‍, ഓരോ തുള്ളിയും സ്നേഹതിന്‍ കവിതകള്‍. കവിളില്‍ നനഞ്ഞിറങ്ങിയ കുളിരാര്‍ന്ന, വരികളില്‍ ചിലതെഴുതിയ കവി , നീയാണെന്‍ സുഹ്രുത്തേ.... നിന്നുടെ വരികള്‍ എന്‍ ജീവനില്‍, തഴുകിയുണര്‍തിയാ ഗാനം, സുന്ദരമാം സുഹ്രുത്തേ.. സുന്ദരമാം സുഹ്രുത്തേ.. അതിലെ മറ്റു കുറിപ്പുകള്‍... കാറ്റില്‍ മണ്ണിന്‍ ഗന്ധമൊഴുകും നേരം, നെഞ്ജില്‍ തേങ്ങും വിടയുടെ നൊംബരം... (may be jithu and raghesh remember these lines....) പിന്നെ ഇതും..... COMSKYS RULEZ FOREVER... ;) --Rahul Nair

Is solace anywhere more comforting than in the arms of a sister. ~Alice Walker I wrote about her when I was 7 years old, A poem for my school magazine. Of course I didn't write it my Dad did. Maybe I should have written this long Back. Into earthly hands she was born, An angel without wings to adorn. Her radiant face and her full round eyes, And those looks like she was about to cry, Her childish giggles and her baby talks, Still in my ears do ring with unlost charms. I remember the moments when her lips curved down, With a tiny trail of shiny tears, And all this just to look her best, In her cherry dyed favourite dress. Aha! and how would I forget those pillow fights, At the end of which she would run to Mom and Whine. There went the cane on my buttocks, Those are now joyful memories which in my heart do reside. Times were there when I would cry in a corner, After Dad's treat...

The real religion of the world comes from women much more than from men - from mothers most of all, who carry the key of our souls in their bosoms. -Oliver Wendell Holmes He stood there so tall and proud, An old wind still lingering around. He was a fine mountain, Enveloped in trees , streams and fountains. He looked beyond those mountains greater To see his mother his creator . In a warm wind suddenly covered was he, She had come sensing his anxiety. [photo by foto3116 ] She caressed him in gentle strokes, Soothing the trees, streams and the rocks. She was proud of him,her son All that she in rain and sun had done. She softened the rocks and - Withered them into fine sand. From which green shoots had - Sprung up high and dyed. She would blow the dark clouds over For the beasts ,the birds and the flowers. She guarded him from the heavy snows, Lest he felt the bitter cold. Al...

Words once said cannot be taken back.. So is the case of life once lived This is a true story . May be not of one person alone. It has been assimilated from the lives of different men I know. Let this not happen to you. And now I sit here on this stony rail, Feeding the pigeons off my hand. I don't know which way i took off in life. I wanted everything, money,fame... Though I wasn't famous with the like of Mahatma Gandhi, I did become popular amongst my friends. Got married , got on with life. Had children to whom i could never say I loved them. Worked very hard. At times I would say to them , I had sacrificed a lot for them. BUT WHAT?? The greatest of sacrifices could have been my time. I could not or rather did not spend any time with them.. I was in a rat race. Did I love my wife?? How could I have loved her when the money and fame I boast about got me a mistress. When I look back, I was not able to give her a moment of peace or love. Now I realize how she felt, ...

"We shall find peace. We shall hear angels, we shall see the sky sparkling with diamonds.” Anton Chekhov [image source unknown: contact me if the owner wants it removed] Drops of tears on her heavenly cheeks, Like dew drops on the olive leaves seep. Her eyes were murky,gloomy and dull, Those eyes so blue,so naive, so full. Why she wept, why these tears, Why so sad a lovely face? May be this madness,May be this malice, Or maybe just she wanted care. The arms embraced and held her close, The tears dried down to a blissful mood. She felt so secure in those arms, In the warmth of her mother, who loved her most. This is how an Angel cries - Through the eyes of an innocent child. Because In them do Angels dwell 'til life is under the...