Wednesday, October 28, 2015

First Day in School!


Receives new tender
Feet, the Campus in wait for
Her  next study-year.

New bag, new dress, kid
Excited, gets up, gets ready
Fast and sits on bike.

Enters kid as a
Bud; sways in campus-breeze with
More buds and blooms bright.

Kids all in same hues
Seem blooms of one plant, though  much
Hue and cry greets us.

Some buds droop, little
Eyes shower tears when gets the
Teacher into class..

 An ensemble of
Tear-rains and scream-thunder fills
 Campus with hubbub.

At exodus looms
 bike father's; smile exotic
adorns soft visage.


For Carpe Diem Haiku Kai.


Thursday, October 22, 2015

Like a Gust of Wind !


 
Like a gush of wind or fierce cyclone,
that man entered home as usual and
in true sense it was a cell for her,
resumed his routine of hurly-burly, 
caught her hair from front in his fist,
pulled her with a forceful strength,
 and started bellowing yells of words,
tinted in adverse rubbish rebuke.


A poor new-born baby once chucked out  
 by an unknown mother,  had to grow
in an orphanage, run by nuns in city, 
 had fallen prey to hollow words
coated with sugar of artificial texture
rendered by that moneyed man, 
claiming to be clement highly;
 hence was handcuffed in the wed-lock.
      

Looking at the blue through window, 
 with a totally deadened mind,                 
 having no provision to lodge
 anything further, for,
 it was full of pains and sorrows, 
born out of torments by that wicked,
in the form of thrashing and hitting
 on her pate spitefully.
   

Locking the ears with hands both,  
like a gust of wind-blast, 
flashed she to the open aimlessly,
 with hurts in heart and wounds on carcass
 to save her 'self' from there.
Her flight,  from the venom-vomiting- tongue 
landed in the calm and quiet of an Ashram,
which sheltered her  and consoled solely. 

 

  

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

From the Heart of Hearts!

           I couldn't pen the exact translation, for it is slightly lengthy. But the story is the same.

      
“Oh! God! I never expected such a fate. Even otherwise also who knows the next moment what would happen? “

Rambabu started examining the events and incidents that encased him within a short period of time. He was on the introspection about the talk, leapt out of his throat, “I had objected to their wedding. Am I wrong?” He weighed and weighed his words again and again.

 “You can do whatever you want and go wherever you like. I cannot accept that girl as my daughter-in-law. Don’t step in here again,” Rambabu set up a high yell, rude were his words and loud was his voice. Rambabu was an individual of an acceptable personality and amicable modernity in every walk of life. But he couldn’t bear with what his son spoke at that moment.

 Brahmins once were embellishing the society; knowledge and culture was their power. So, all of a sudden siding with his son on that matter was not in his Brahmin mind. It was beyond his imagination to have that girl as the bride to his residence.

“O! God, are you testing me? I feel sorry for what I said to my son,” Rambabu really thought it was the castigation for his action from Him to him.

Gopu,Rambabu’s son was a smart dynamic H.R manager in an M.N.C. He could substantially enhance the amount in his account because his emoluments were so exorbitant. He was an eligible bachelor with regard to education and job for the daughters of ambitious parents. And hence there was no dearth in proposal-entry to his house. But for all the ones Gopu stood facing the other side.
One day when Gopu nodded in negation for an attractive proposal, yes, Rambabu turned crimson with rage and asked, “Is there Shajahan’s granddaughter waiting for you?”

“Yes, I’ll marry even if a Christian or Muslim good looking girl proposes to me,” harsh and stiff was Gopu’s voice, which had never shed such audibility to Achchan so far.

Conversation between father and son was in a nutshell and somewhat a silence marched triumphantly there for some days. Gopu always sought the company of his Facebook friends and WhatsApp group.
Continuous persuasion of Amma made him fumble before a good proposal, “Amma, I don’t want to marry now. My dame…um… because…I don’t want  marriage at present.”

“Do you have anyone in your mind? If so tell us. We shall go for that.”

Though his tongue he didn’t vibrate, his mind was swinging between ‘to disclose or not '.
Finally, Gopu decided to unveil the secret. He had sold his soul to a cute smart Muslim girl named ‘Mehar’ who was ready for any sort of forfeit to obtain him. She was the younger sister of Gopu’s friend Naushad. His frequent visit to their dwelling had woven a pretty lace of love enthralling the lad to the lass. Both had decided to put off their union until the guardians' parts were affirmative. They lingered optimistic.

But the fact was crystal clear that no attempt from any person would bring forth an agreeing signal from any of the two families. In Gopu’s house explosive expletives, in thunderous loud were spilling from Achchan’s lips. When Achchan was at the edge of defeat, he tried some tactful steps. He shifted from scolding to advice. But no good it did, father’s advice fell in deaf ears and sowed no seed of deviation from his wish. So again he lost his temper, “You do whatever you want, don’t come here with that girl.”

Conversation between Gopu and Ram Babu did not come to the forefront. It hid in their minds itself. Only the very required stuff in ‘yeas and nays’ sustained there. As usual, dawn awoke them and night put them to sleep and other things rolled on the course of day time.

 And Mehar’s parents were also smart enough to play their negative role well. They walked far away from leniency, whereas Mehar stood adamant in her preference. Still, demos of proposals were being staged in both the houses irrespective of their ward’s discontent. Days delightfully spun their time on the wheels of day and night.

One day Gopu felt as if he had a small pain on his thoracic part when he sat merged in his official task. As time grew tall the pain also grew high. As he reached home two three hours before the time schedule, his limbs very speedily sought the abode of bed. Gopu used to complain of chest pain at times, but after a little rest and all, he became alright. They thought it was of acidity or some gaseous trouble. But this time it was a bit severe with some unbearable unease. And hence itself he agreed to take the advice of a doctor.

“Gopu has come home early from office today. He says about a chest pain. Better take him to a doctor,” Sumangala to Rambabu.

“What happened? Earlier also he had spoken about chest pain,” the loving father in Rambabu leaving aside all the sulks took his lone darling to the nearby hospital.

The checkup as usual passed through the procedure of ECG. The ECG led him to stress test, Echo and Angiogram etc. The result was shocking.

“Gopu has some valve problem which is entering the stage of acuteness. Don’t worry, for the time being, medicines will help him. But he may have to even go for heart transplantation. When we get a suitable heart, it is better to do that,” the doctor’s tone was though soothing, its firmness revealed the emergency.

 The parents couldn’t believe what the doctor said, “O! God our son, our blood, he is our heart.”  Words got wedged in their throat.

 For about a month he was in the hospital and after that, he was discharged from there on the condition that he will be kept at home, just as hospitalized. The hospital, his dear and near, his well-wishers and all others having a connection with them were on the lookout for a suitable heart for Gopu.

 Mehar, wedding, hospital expenses- insurance coverage was there-and everything had vanished from the parents’ minds. The watchword ‘suitable heart’ reigned in that house. Achchan swayed between office and house.  Temple visits of the parents in alternate turns increased in number. Prayers at home hiked in mass. Food met its reduced quantity. Lips forgot smiles and laughter. Minds burned. Hearts bled. The very calm prevailed in the inmates of that dwelling had perched elsewhere. 

“A heart. Where can we find one? This question was bubbling in their minds. The question mark of transplanting the heart hung in the entire terrain.  Then one day a very important call from the hospital alerted them, “Bring  Gopu immediately, we got a heart here. We’ll check if it will match him or not.”

A twenty-five-year-old, named Karim had met with an accident; brain death was the upshot. His parents wanted their darling’s body parts to provide life to the needy. So the couple donated them to the hospital. Fortunately, Karim’s heart was compatible with Gopu’s just as water to milk.
Within a few hours, the surgery took place and the patient was kept in intensive observation for a couple of days. Gopu expressed signals of revival and eventually everything got on track.

“Gopu is only twenty-eight and so nothing to worry about. There are cases that survived long after heart transplantation. Gopu will be one among them,” the doctor with a hearty smile. Karim’s heart started performing the music of ‘lub-Dub’ in Gopu. That heart didn’t say, “I am a Muslim, I will beat only in a Muslim’s body.”

“If that girl still hopes to marry my son, I’ll receive her wholeheartedly with stretched hands,” Rambabu repented for his heart of hearts.

"Nature has no religion or region nor does God have. Whatever comes in the way it accepts or discards. The self-oriented selfish men like me only build barriers between man and man. People pull religion to them for troubling the world," Rambabu murmured.

 The day of Gopu’s discharge had to receive some special guests in his house. A couple with two pairs of filled eyes were they, Karim’s parents- Fatima and Salim. They were watching Gopu even without batting their eyes. Fatima headed forward and sat by the side of Gopu..She put her hand on Gopu’s chest and whispered, “My son, my darling, you are alive, you are alive.” She slowly and softly kept her visage also on his chest and hugged him. The onlookers could not control their tears that showered as monsoon from their visual organs.  

Friday, October 2, 2015

ഹൃദയത്തിൻ ഹൃദയം!

 Part-2, since the story is slightly long I have posted it in two parts. The English version follows.

കുട്ടിക്കാലത്തവൻ അച്ഛൻറ്റെ കൈപിടിച്ചു കടയിൽ പോയതുംസ്കൂട്ടറിൻറ്റെ പിൻസീറ്റിലിരുന്നു സ്കൂളിൽപോയതും വഴക്കിട്ടു രാത്രിയിൽ ബിസ്കറ്റ് വാങ്ങിപ്പിച്ചതും. അമ്മ ഇഡ്ഡലി ഉണ്ടാക്കുമ്പോൾ ദോശയ്ക്കുവേണ്ടി വഴക്കിടുന്നതും പാലുകുടിയ്ക്കാതെ ഓടിനടക്കുമ്പോൾ അമ്മ പാലും കൊണ്ട് പിറകേ വരുന്നതുമെല്ലാം ഒരുസിനിമയുടെ ദൃശ്യങ്ങൾപോലെ  അവൻറ്റെ മനസ്സിൽക്കൂടി കടന്നുപോകുന്നു.

 

ആശുപത്രിയിൽനിന്നും വിടുതൽവാങ്ങി വീട്ടിൽ വന്നു. അച്ഛൻ ആഫീസിൽ പോകാൻ തുടങ്ങിയിട്ടുണ്ട്. അമ്മ അവനെ അതീവ ശ്രദ്ധയോടെ ശുശ്രൂഷിച്ചുകൊണ്ടിരിക്കുന്നു.

 എല്ലാവരും  അവരവരുടെ രീതിയിൽ ഗോപുവിനു പറ്റിയ ഹൃദയത്തിനു വേണ്ടി ശ്രമിച്ചു കൊണ്ടേയിരിക്കുന്നു.എവിടന്നു കിട്ടാൻ? രാംബാബുവും വനജയും  ഒരുയന്ത്രം പോലെ കാര്യങ്ങൾ ചെയ്യുന്നു.മനസ്സാണെങ്കിൽ ചിരട്ടയടുപ്പുപോലെ എരിഞ്ഞുകൊണ്ടിരിക്കുന്നു. പ്രാർഥനയുടെ പാരമ്യതയിൽ എത്തിനിൽക്കുന്നു.കാത്തിരുന്ന് ആശനശിച്ചപ്പോൾ ‘ഇനിയെന്ത്’ എന്ന ചോദ്യം ബാക്കി.

അപ്പോളതാ  ഒരുഫോണ്‍ വിളി. യാന്ത്രികമായി  ഫോണ്‍ എടുത്തപ്പോൾ അപ്പുറത്തെ തലയ്ക്കൽ നിന്നും ഗോപുവിൻറ്റെ  ഡോക്ടർ, " ഒരു ഹൃദയം കിട്ടിയിട്ടുണ്ട്.വേഗം ഗൊപുവിനെ എത്തിച്ചോളൂ."

 

ഒരുയുവാവിനു ബൈക്കപകടത്തിൽ മസ്തിഷ്ക മരണം സംഭവിച്ചിരിക്കുന്നു. അവൻറ്റെ ഹൃദയം ദാനം ചെയ്യാൻ  അവൻറ്റെ മാതാപിതാക്കൾ തയ്യാറാണ്.ഗോപുവിനു  ഭാഗ്യമുണ്ട്. അവൻറ്റെഹൃദയം പാലിൽ വെള്ളം ചേരുംപോലെ ചേരും.

 

 

കുറെ നാളത്തേയ്ക്ക് ശ്രദ്ധിയ്ക്കണംപിന്നീടു  കുഴപ്പമൊന്നും ഉണ്ടാകില്ല. ധാരാളം വർഷങ്ങൾ ഗോപുവിനു ജീവിയ്ക്കാൻ കഴിയും.മുടങ്ങാതെ പരിശോന വേണം." വിടുതൽ സമയത്ത് ഡോക്ടർ.

 

വിധിയുടെ വിളയാട്ടംഒരിക്കലും  ഇങ്ങനൊരനുഭവം വന്നെത്തുമെന്ന്  രാംബാബു വിചാരിച്ചില്ലദൈവം കൊടുത്ത ശിക്ഷയാണെന്നയാൾ കരുതി. അല്ലെങ്കിൽത്തന്നെ   ആർക്കറിയാം അടുത്ത നിമിഷം  എന്താണ് സംഭവിയ്ക്കാൻ പോകുന്നതെന്ന് ?

 “ഞാൻ  മുസ്ലിം കുട്ടിയെ വേണ്ടെന്നു പറഞ്ഞു. ഇപ്പോൾ ഇതാ മുസ്ലിം പയ്യന്റെ ഹൃദയം തന്നെ രക്ഷയ്ക്കെത്തി. ആ ഹൃദയം പറഞ്ഞില്ല - ഞാൻ മുസ്‌ലിമിൽ മാത്രമേ തുടിയ്ക്കൂവെന്ന്. ശരീരഭാഗങ്ങൾക്കും  രക്തത്തിനും ജാതിമതമില്ലല്ലോ.  മനസ്സിൽ  മാത്രമല്ലേയത്? അവർക്കു സമ്മതമെങ്കിൽ എന്റെ ഗോപുവിന്റെ വധു മെഹർതന്നെ,” അയാൾ നടന്നതൊക്കെ  മനസ്സിലിട്ടു  അളന്നു പശ്ചാത്തപിക്കുകയാണ്.

 ചികിത്സ കഴിഞ്ഞുഗോപുവീട്ടിൽഎത്തിയപ്പോൾ ആ പയ്യൻ, കരീമിൻറ്റെ ഹതഭാഗ്യരായ രക്ഷിതാക്കളും അവിടെ വന്നെത്തുന്നു.നിറമിഴികളോടെ കരീമിൻറ്റെയമ്മ, ഫാത്തിമ ഗോപുവിൻറ്റെ നെഞ്ചിൽ പതിയെ തടവി, തലോടി, എന്റ്റെ മകൻ...,അവർ വിതുമ്പി. കണ്ണുകളിൽ ഒരു മണ്‍സൂണ്‍തന്നെ  പെയ്തിറങ്ങി അച്ഛൻ,അലി,വിതുമ്പലടക്കിഗോപുവിനേതന്നെ നോക്കിനിന്നു.


 [The End