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This blog doesnt belong to a single person. A group of literary hearted people work behind this platform who would like to create some meaningful works. Not bounded by a single language or genre, we have knitted our thoughts into stories using our individual styles.

Continue reading “Peekaboo!”

The Veil of Darkness


Aji woke up disturbed by the shuffling of sheets beside him. Half asleep he called for her. The reply came in a coarse, husky voice intruding the still drowsy silence.

“Oh Aji, did I wake you up ??”

“Yeah, sort of. Shirley what are you upto in the middle of the night?!! It’s 3 ‘o’ clock!” he said on sliding his fingers over the phone, twitching his finger over his eyes sleepily.

Continue reading “The Veil of Darkness”

The Men in My Life

It was that moment in life.

Lying in the bed wondering what will happen in the next phase of my life. . .

Fully messed up, trying to figure out how to get up from here. .

The thought of having pain was just looming and fading away from me.

Through out the journey, one thought was pestering me a lot, don’t even know how to sort it out. .

More than a solution, I was trying to pen it out. Telling someone was not enough. .

The thought that was so perilously disturbing me all these time. .

And urging me to pen it out was something controversial and more

Something that nobody would expect from me,

and for that I would say that 5 just there problem of understanding me. .

Sorry for playing with your inqusitive minds. .

Let’s straight away begin . . .

I can vaguely remember the first time I started saying I’m my daddys girl. . Like every daughter does. . .

l aIways wanted him to be the best. . and celebrated his called importance of being a comrade. . and l was simply enjoying all its advantages. Till then I realised him and his importance. . . I became more conscious about me. . and started to make things better for him and his name. . and on that note I believed that I’m in the safest hands. . and Will always be …..

Don’t know why I hated every men. . Is that because my dad was the best. . . . Don’t know?! !. .

But I remember those days in school I secretly weeped for days. . hating every men. . it was not the hatred. . . but the frightening thoughts of men. . . that consciously made me hate them. . . and that terrible incident . . men and the power he had was just making me insecure.

To run away from that fear. . . I believed that I have my superhero with me and I’m in his safest hands.

Then that too happened. I was just plucked out from my place to that unknown city. . A city I always dreamed of but never thought. . it would be fulfilled. . for the next two years I have to spend their alone. Their began the next phase. . the so called MEN were frightening me. . And I was becoming a Menphobic lady. . .

And there happened another thing. . .

A new member to my small world. . I was quiet unhappy to accept him. . But don’t know why he made me feel so secure. And for the first time. . . I felt to have a brotherly care from an unknown person. . and l was so happy ..

I was quiet moving with the new life. .

Classes were going good. . my batch mates started to talk with me. . But that issue of trust and so called menphobia loomed me. . I kept a huge distance with the boys. . . I was quiet weird . . But gradually that space loosened down. . And I began feeling comfortable with them. .

Then that thought developed in me. . There are men who can be like my dad.

I was equating each and everything with my superhero. . . not sure. . whether he was the best or not. . But  he secured me with all weirdness I had. . And slowly l was falling in love with that city. . my dream city. . . The vibes of the city soothed me. . . And then my two year journey. . Got extended to three more years. . .

And there happened my new phase. . it took one and a half years for me to be part of the new world. . . the City was familiar to me. , But the new world of strangers were quiet hard to accept. . But that too happened.. l was pretty much comfortable with them. . .

Then their at that moment. . I got drenched in the beautiful emotion of love. .

Finally I realized. . He was the next perfect man I had in my life. . other than dad. . But unfortunately. . No. . I will say fortunately. . Love story was quiet unpredictable. . And It ended. . . but I will always say He will be the best for. . . and will make a good pair with some beautiful ladies out there… I would say He was the next important man in my life.

Then after long five years from there. . l was plucked from there too. . To yet another city. . The world of letters. . Men came in and out of my life. . Knowingly and unknowingly. . They became a part of my life. . But there I found one person there. . With whom l won’t say I had feelings towards. . But with whom I wanted some time to sit and talk. . And I really wished for that. . But it didn’t happen. . And that too I believe didn’t happen fortunately. .

And now here. . Lying In the bed. .

l’m madly in love with these three people. . And I m talking about LOVE. . Not that you all think so. . Love does not have a defined meaning. . And so I would say anything sacred of emotions is love. . . These three people have just made me a new person. . And for the first time. . I felt regret of not being a doctor. . But still these three smiling handsome people. . . Had a special space in my life. . The persons who made me to live another life. . Breathe another day . . . and I’m in love With them. .

And this was something I wanted to say. I wanted my mind to understand. . These men are so important. That I fell in love with them. . . From my super hero to this three wonderful angels. . . they have changed a Menphobic girl to someone who can understand the difference between bad and good. . . touch to men in real. . l’m quiet happy that. . . so lucky enough to have them. .

And in this concluding part. . .I proudly title this stream of concious thoughts as, .. THE MEN lN MY LIFE. . .

and on a serious note. . . I’ve not yet found you. . The one I’m searching for. . And let this hide and seek continue like this . . Will wait for the time to reveal it’s mystery. . Till then I’m waiting for the next …….


In quotes.

“Shoo! Aishu be quiet. Don’t make noise around here. Can’t you see they are discussing something serious with your Mom.”
Following this statement, I was forbidden from the living room.
Being a kid obviously I had curiosity regarding what the matter was.

The thing that had this secret affair with our living room.

Mama always seemed to be angry with me on one thing or the other. But at times she would shower affection on me by hugging me so intensely and thereby making it hard  for me to breathe.

The only relief for me, the one person who filled me with affection always was my  DaaduDaadu would lift me up and swing me around when I get burnt by Mama’s flames of anger.

Mama was never like this before. It was only after Sachii was gone that things changed. Sachii, my papa.
Sachii, that was how I used to call him. He was the exact opposite of Mama. Quite chilled out and easy going, we made the best father daughter duo. But whenever Mama and Sachii came together all I could hear were shrieks and shouts. And once he came to me, he would become my old Sachii again. Once when the fight reached a bad stage, Sachii left home. He still comes to visit me but he no more comes back home. I used to miss him a lot in the beginning but gradually it too got buried with a thousand such other feelings.

Mama grew more and more silent as days went by. She now barely held me, kissed or even smiled at me . Daadu too was growing dull and silent and I missed Sachii. But why had Sachii left home? I pondered over it in my mind but couldn’t bring myself up to give voice to those thoughts to anyone.
Even to Sachii.
As the days passed the house became a sullen place where three strangers assembled together only at the time of food. I never voiced my queries which grew along with me. Even after completing my schooling , college and being the head of our company, taking mama’s place but no longer turning living rooms into office rooms like she did, I continued to have those queries that the younger me lived with.
Mama and I , never did we have a one to one conversation. It was always business that ruled our talks . And as to Sachii he had long stopped visiting me. Nor did I try to meet him.

One day I received a call. It was Sachii. I found it hard to recognise him in the beginning but soon felt the warmth pouring in and knew that it was him.

I asked him were he was all these years and why he hadn’t come to visit me..but his voice was trembling and amidst sobs all he repeated was that he was a coward and will not ever dare to face Mama or me. He hung up saying a sorry which got drowned in his sobs.

That day back home I was determined to ask about Sachii and why he left us to Mama. After some minutes of thought I went into her room.On finding her sleeping , I turned to leave with the idea of postponing my queries. But it is when she woke up and enquired as to why I had come to her.

“Why did Sachii leave us, Mama?”

Something of a mixture of grief and disgust filled her face as it slowly reddened . She shouted asking to not dare to repeat his name in front of her once more as he was nothing but a coward. She continued to shout and curse and held me responsible for this life of her’s. Enraged and frustrated I too spoke out, blaming her for making me live the life of an orphan.

That silenced her. And her silence made my heart grow heavier.

After a small hiatus, she started speaking.

“Sachii, though  he is your father, is not my husband . You are the result of our extramarital affair. I was married to Sachii’s brother Prabhu. But once I got pregnant with you Prabhu knew that you weren’t his progeny. It led to constant fights between us which ended in his suicide.”

“Mama but why?

Why did you develop such an affair with his brother ?”

Fighting with her sobs, she replied,

“Sachii was always her lover and the marriage with Prabhu was done under the pressure Daadu had put on her. Thus against her will . Even after marriage she was unable to keep herself away from Sachii.

After Prabhu’s death it was decided that Sachii would live with us. He was interested in inheriting the position and company of Prabhu but not his wife. He feared the impact it would have on his name and clear-chit character. That conflict continued for a while . And one day  Sachii left the home and never came back.”

Daadu  who cursed himself for this spoiled life of his daughter lived as a silent witness till his last breath. Mama never called Sachii back and never did he come back.

But in this tug of wars, I was the one who actually lost, my childhood, my parents and all the love that I deserved.

I shouted , finding it unable to control my tears and banged the door behind.

I can no more sleep when I realise I’m getting victimised and silenced same time even without me knowing. All had a say i my life except me. I’m not even left with a colorful memory of my childhood with my parents in it atleast to brag upon ; its all filled with “Aishu shoo! “

Even while strangled by such thoughts I do realise one thing.

However entangled one might be in the relations of blood, some stay orphaned.

The end.

Dry Lands

Drink love, if lost drink Wine

Wine wine wine

Wine gushing out of my brain

It rises from my sole

And even spreads over my soul.

Fade fade my reason to numbness

And my pale sense to nonsense.


Oh my lady love

My love didn’t reciprocate

As you complain

My penis inappropriate.

Your lustrous eyes seek another fit

While in despair I sit.


Oh my roses fade and fall

On your wild sweet lakes dried.

Alas when you turn and walkout

I saw your lakes reflects me no more.

Bitter love better than potion

Leaves a heart devoid of passion.


Thief filthy thief you

Go to hell I bless.

Eat the fruit of Eden

And drink from Lethe.

But give back my heart

I won’t be a shashi anymore.


Lured as always.

Ottal through my eyes

Faced with a pretty long night to pull through, I thought of watching a film suggested by my friend long before. She kept on persuading that finally, I had to watch it. Yet it had been a month since I downloaded the movie but didn’t watch and each time she enquired I came up with new excuses.


But this time I felt like viewing some thing different from the usual hungama movies and decided to watch Ottal: the Trap. A movie based on Vanka, the short story by Anton Chekov. The movie is directed by Jayraj and music score is by Kavalam Narayana Panicker. As these details suggest its not going to have any kind of commerical elements in it. The movie is set in Kuttanad, the backwaters of Kerala. Each shot in this film manages to explore its beauty to the fullest.




The plot is built on the intense theme of an orphan boy Kuttapayi who lives with his grandpa whom he calls Valiyapchayi, after the death of his parents. Things went well for Kuttapayi till his Valyapchayi fell ill. Unlike most of the kids he never went to school although he longed, but was exposed to the ways of nature sooner and more vividly than any other kid. Under the pretence of education the child is taken away to a place that resemble Tamilian culture where he is forced to do work of making fire crackers at the young age of eight. The boy often gets beaten up and is put to starve. The film ends on a positive note of hope.


The movie addresses contemporary issues including agricultural loan crisis because of which his parents commit suicide. It tries to warn us about the issues of childlabour that still hasn’t got wiped out completely. The film maintains a dull tone throughout but has beautiful visuals that fully capture the beauty of the Kuttanad, its life and people.


The film leaves a haunting sensation and instills thought in us. But a question which I’m not sure whether rational or reasonable is still annoying me… Are the fire crackers, that we blow up each Diwali, drenched in the cries of such innocent beings who are trapped in a stroke of bad luck…?

P.S: Happy Diwali.

The art films too are interesting.



View more quotes from the author here:



Digression from the monotony








She was deceptive; She could smile even while an ocean roared within her.
She lived on..only to learn that it was just the same old life.
Too easy it was to sketch her physique..but her mind, never can you manage to get hold of it.
A confused Soul..she was..caught in between her Dreams, Reality and Freedom.
Sensuality that adorned her was suppressed and subdued, only to cost her..her Dignity.
Twisted and tangled.. Yet beautiful was her life..
And cheers to her desires.. that knew no bounds!



And after a short break

Yet another story to start

The story of a blank canvas that got

Coloured and uncoloured with unrequited love




The story with that beautiful eyes

That one she might have been searching for years

And there began a beautiful love story

Her own story




She started painting her life

With the beautiful colors of love

She was so bestowed that

She was experiencing the sacredness of love




And finally when the beautiful story was reaching its end

He stood there

With all his passion

And love for life.

He was enticed with the adventures of life

Her colors of love failed to color him

Even a single drop couldn’t touch him

And thus came an end to the beautiful love story 

Colored and uncolored with unrequited love





Technical Innovation in Theatre: The Legends of Khasak


Beyond words is the experience this drama could impart. We were not watching a drama but witnessing real life. The new theatrical endeavour of dramatist Deepan Shivaraman Khasakinte Itihasam is an independent adaptation of O V Vijayan’s novel of the same name. I am happy that I got an opportunity to experience it.


Fired up! The open air stage


This particular enterprise produced by Trikkarippur K M K Kalasamiti adopted a novel form of presentation and stage craft. They introduced an open-air theatre with galleries for the audience to be seated. I wonder it is modeled on a Greek theatre. The stage consists of main stage, sub stage, ground and its premises. The characters were coming out from various parts of the whole of the arena. It was not like playing a usual drama, people were just caught on their collars and dropped into the midst of the story. The brains behind the stage let the audience experience it rather than just watch it. It was an excavation onto the Legends of Khasak. The legends of Khasak came out of their graves and took us to their times. They lived, made love, fought, cried and died in front of us. The characters were alive they were not acting.


Play of colors


Most of the modern technologies were incorporated to make the experience wholesome. Artificial rain was used which was over whelming. Projecting some shots in screen parallel to the play is a new thought. Lighting by Jose Koshi was excellent with yellow and blue colors dominating the rest. At some instances, fire was the only source of light which created a different atmosphere. The mesmerising power of music added to the ambience. The neighing of horses, sound of its footsteps, background score with a Sufi touch, the narration of the story of Shake Thangal and his troop of thousand and one horses and three full songs made sure we were completely involved.


Mesmerising rain


It was an experience satisfying all our senses be it visual, auditory, taste or smell. The hot and spicy biriyani served to audience during Mymuna’s marriage was rich in smell and taste. The fire, water, and earth have strong presence throughout the play. The scenes of exorcism wouldn’t have been excellent without fire. Fire torches were used abundantly in the play. The artificial rain in this play was unexpected but awesome. The main stage was bare earth. The characters rolled over it and even slept over the mud. The props like snake, doll, masks, mats and tomatoes acted as symbols and image.


Bare Earth turned a stage


I wonder this is how the theatres in Kerala are expanding their scope. I like to look at this enterprise as a showcase of technical innovation. This is something worth calling a post-modern drama. This particular theatre enterprise would be a huge leap in the history of modern Malayalam theatre. Making use of all possible techniques at present to impart strong emotions made it an experience that gifted me a worthy three and a half hours in my life.


A Visual Treat!