URGENT NEED- PUBLIC URINALS AT TRICHUR a href=’http://www.blogsurfer.us/

All three bus stands at Shoranur stand in the north, Municipal stand in the centre and Shakthan stand in the south, are over crowded all the time.
I have yet to see a public urinal at these points.
I do urinate where I see some bush.
Why are the Authorities so callous about the prime necessities of living? We can do without food and drinks for hours. But can we avoid urination?
In the North, Sulabh Shauchalay is doing excellent work.
Will some one listen?

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SHORT STORY – AN INTELLECTUAL LADY a href=’http://www.blogsurfer.us/

Bipin and Das are identical twins. I am of their age and live next door.
.As children, sometimes we all used to sleep together and our parents did not object to it. Though my parents are from the South, we all lived happily like a family.
We all went to the same school and this continuous interaction must have been a factor for our choosing economics as our subject.
I am black and we were nicknamed the “the black and white trio”. I was far more intelligent than Bipin-Das and used to clear their doubts, during studies in their room. Now I do return home, even if it is very late in the night; my father will be waiting till my return.
We are very poor, depending upon father’s meager pension and this disparity in status pained me considerably, as I grew up.
Once I had to attend a marriage for which we all were invited. I feigned illness because I had no god sari. Das knew me well and brought his mother’s sari which was quite costly. H forced me to wear it. His mother immediately recognized it and looked at me so disdainfully that I wished to run away the same night, to some unknown place and work as a sweeper!
Das embraced me and wiped out my tears. He promised never to repeat such mistakes
But Chitharanjan Da was different. He liked me and I used to spend some time with him, reading out the newspaper. He had cataract problem, but was afraid to operate it. He asked me to learn Bengali, to read the best writers in the world. I could not read any Indian language. English was enough for me.
I used to press his cloths and make idli and dosa which he relished very much. He would joke: why not bring this blackie as my daughter-in-law?
Whenever Das hears it, he would grind his teeth in anger.
He would tell me; sorry girl; these people are so insensitive to the feelings of others.
I got a call letter from Jadhavpur University .with an offer of stipend of upeess. ten thousand.
Das gave me travel expenses and his ATM card. When I said good bye, I had a premonition that I may never return. I wept all the way to the railway station.
As soon as I joined, I became extremely busy with my thesis. Instead of using data from published sources, I decided to tour the remote villages, to see for myself how people lived there. The poverty appalled me .There were women in rags carrying children who are unable to walk, because they had nothing to eat.
I shouted at them: Why do you open your thighs? Next time, your husband comes, you kick his balls hard. He should not be able to do it again.
During my visit to rural areas, Das came to Calcutta. He left a note and went away.
My father and Chtharanjan Da used to write long letters. I used to talk to them frequently in my mobile phone. I lived on minimum expenses and sent lot of money to my father, who had enough to spend for the first time.
Once I met Binayak Sen and showed him my thesis which earned much praise and was published in the college magazine.
He just threw it into the waste basket.
He said: it is worth only this, pointing to the basket. Do you think it will solve rural poverty? The politicians thrive by exploiting the rural poor. Of course, you may get placements in big business establishments and earn money. What will you do with money? Live in posh locality in Delhi, forgetting poverty and ignorance all around you?
Enough of theory; go and fight the enemy with guns, he said.
I was shaken and wanted to see my parents. All were overjoyed when I appeared among them. Bipin had married a rich heiress. Das was pensive and talked less. He always remained with me. He could not score marks, sufficient to impress the people who matter. I felt sorry for him. He now works as a teacher.
Years went by, and I enjoyed life among academic people in the university. . No one approached me for marriage. I was quite happy living alone, reading and writing. I have quite a good reputation as a writer.
When I was past forty, a young man came to see me. He told me he admired my work and my essays in the newspapers. He had a serious look, with his spectacles and slight beard. I liked him and spent hours talking about everything under the sun
One day he asked me point blank: do you love me?
I had a hearty laugh! I said: you are young enough to be my grandson.
Is love regulated by considerations of age?
I do not know; I had close friends of my childhood; I never thought of marrying them.
Are they still unmarried, after all these years?
I don’t think so; I never enquired.
I want only an answer: yes or no.?
In the coming days, he began sitting very near to me and even fondling me without being unduly audacious. I like it. One day I kissed him in the mouth and suddenly he became a bull and charged me vehemently. Next day we gave the registrar our notice regarding intention to marry.
Only Das came to witness it. He looked prematurely old, with streaks of grey hair We embraced each other and wept. I felt it a big loss when he went away.

SHORT STORY-PREGNANT AT THIRTEEN a href=’http://www.blogsurfer.us/

A namboodiri family engaged a young namboodiri to teach girls of thirteen and ten, as they were not supposed to go to school, where they will have to sit among pupils of other castes.. After classes, the elder sister and teacher used to “play” and the younger one kept guard to alert them, if some one comes. In the dusk no one will come as the women folk will be busy praying. The result soon came out; she became pregnant.
The tutor too was only eighteen years and was unprepared to face the consequences. So they ran away.
The girl’s necklace brought some money, with which they managed to go to reach Kasargod. There a substitute poojary was needed. So the boy started earning. They stayed as husband and wife as child marriages were normal in those days.
*********
I was attending a conference of Environmental Scientists at Cuttack. Young students were also invited to attend the proceedings and also to present their papers. Among them, one boy named Aswin impressed me by his academic qualifications and meticulously studied paper about tortoises. He was tall for his years and had bright, searching eyes and high forehead. He was not fluent in English and so I enquired: what is your mother tongue?
When he said Malayalam, I became more interested.. But he had no information about his home or village.
After the conference, I accompanied him to his house, near the temple. His mother attracted me by her face- the same eyes and forehead as his son’s!
Involuntarily, I placed my hand on her shoulder and said: congratulations. Your boy has been selected for research!
She sat down, caught my feet and started crying. I felt embarrassed. I too sat down on the floor and wiped her tears.
I said: today is an occasion to celebrate. Aswin is an intellectual giant, though still a boy. I will see that he succeeds. Sister, give me rice and sambar. I want to eat to my capacity!
Then she smiled. I sent Aswin to bring sweets, giving him five hundred rupee note.
In his absence, his mother became talkative.
What is your name?
Sankaran.
What caste are you?
Warriar, we live near the Mahadevamangalam temple on the bank of the river Bharathapuzha. At the mention of the temple, she beamed and became warm. She was about to touch me, but hesitated. So I held her hand and pressed it. I asked: do you know the place?
She avoided an answer. I continued:
My parents are in Delhi. I am their only son, unmarried and thirty years old. How old are you?
Next month I will be thirty two.
So you are my oppol (elder sister.)
You didn’t tell me your name.
Sushma
When I am in Delhi, do come there.
She used to write to me. Though her writing lacked order and sophistication, I loved to read it.On the occasion of Rakhi, I sent her the traditional bracelet, indicating my determination to protect her, and, costly gifts.
The next winter, Sushma and her son came to Delhi and stayed as my guests. Aswin was in JNU. Sushma’s husband could not get leave as he was a poojari, and so, it was a Susma and myself who toured Agra and Jaipur. I found her company entertaining and satisfactory.
The next time I went to my home in Keralam, my grandmother insisted that I marry.. She even earmarked a girl as my wife and introduced her to me. She was quite handsome, though short, and was educated. Somehow, I did not like the idea. Grandma was unhappy.
I was returning home. I hailed an autorickshaw and when it stopped, a lady requested for sharing it.. She was dark, with lively eyes and I enquired where she was going. She too was going to Mahadevamangalam temple.
I hazarded a guess: are you a teacher?
Yes.
Name?
Veena.
Do you know Sankaran warriar?
I have seen him as a child.. Now I hear he is a big scientist.
Am I big?
She watched me closely and laughed. You are that Sankaran who used to play with us? A dirty brat with running nose and scabbies? Oh! My. God! How you have changed. Why this big moustache? I don’t like it.
By this time we had reached the temple. It was about to be closed. We had to go down a flight of steps to reach the river. I held her hand lest she may slip and fall. I sat on the steps, while she was taking bath.
The crescent moon could faintly be seen over the vast expanse of fields, beyond the river.
I said: there is no water in the river.
She: some experiments were made to “conserve water” and this is the result. I have to lie down to take bath.
I: hurry up; it is getting dark.
By the time we came up, the temple was about to be closed. I didn’t go in. She finished and came out.
We climbed a rock, overlooking the river and sat there side by side. May I touch you?
She laughed: you men are like that. Can’t you wait till we marry?
So is it settled about our marriage?
You like to fiddle with my body and leave me?
Sorry madam; I just wanted to hold you in my arm.
She cuddled close to me and I tightly held her. She then described all that I mentioned in the beginning about Sushma’s elopement. (As I was with my parents in Delhi, I never heard about it ). I cried out in ecstasy: I am her best friend and mentioned all that happened at Cuttack.
We then went to her house to inform the good news.. The old parents could not believe it.
They asked: why did she not write to us?
She never talked about you. Even when she knew who I am, she did not divulge any details about herself.
Veena suggested that she may be afraid of the parents’ anger.
I went away, promising to meet the teacher at the school.
At 4 PM, when the school closes, I was there with a dozen saris. We spent the evening in the municipal park. She was moody and won’t say what is wrong.
I asked her whether she is having a lover.
Then only she smiled. She shook her head in the negative.
I left her at her hostel.
Next day I had to go to Madras for some urgent work. In the night, I wrote a long letter to her, with plenty of hot kisses. The reply, when it came, was the shortest love letter ever written!
“Dear Sankaretta,
I cannot live without you.
Your loving
Veena”
In the meanwhile, Sushma and her husband came to see her parents. I am told that they were persuaded by all, to arrange my marriage with Veena.
But my grandma refused. She won’t hear abut it. So I returned to Delhi, very much disappointed.
Things were moving fast
The old poojary of Shiva temple at Mahadevamangalam wanted to retire. He was not getting a reliever. Sushma’s husband was willing to do that job, so that she could look after her parents..
I returned to Keralam and the new atmosphere was very exciting. Veena ran to my place whenever she could. Grandma became very friendly with her. She had given me sexual freedom and I used it to maximum advantage, as grandma was resting in her room, most of the time.
My parents came home and clinched the issue by extracting grandma’s consent for our marriage…

Cool blog found on BlogSurfer.us

Cool blog found on BlogSurfer.us.

KERALAM MAY BE NEARING EQUATORIAL CLIMATE a href=’http://www.blogsurfer.us/

Recent rains, continuing up to the middle of December, suggest that we may get more rains during the coming decades.
The change in the pattern of rains suggest we are likely to get rains as in equatorial region. Heat in day time and excess humidity are the signs of this region, where there will be luxuriant growth of greenery.
I remember to have read about a slight, northward shift in the 23.5 parallel

SHORT STORY- LOVE NEVER DIES a href=’http://www.blogsurfer.us/

I had gone to attend a marriage. After sitting among the guests for a reasonable time, for formality, I wandered into the rice fields, at the back of the temple .
I had seen the temple several times, always with my wife; but never ventured towards the east. Now I wanted to do it.
Half an hour took me to the Malabar of at least a thousand years ago. I found myself in the middle of a valley, surrounded by small hills. The paddy was only a month old, a stage which I like to watch and enjoy. There was the sound of clear water flowing along small channels among the fields. Not a human being to be seen.
I sat at a point along the path treaded by villagers, to collect ripe mangoes lying there. The sweetness of the fruit was heady and I did not see the girl coming from the temple.
Where are you going Sir? She asked.
Nowhere. I like roaming about. Just to see the country side. Most of the time I walk, a pastime I am never tired of.
Like my mother; she too enjoys walking.
Who is your mother?
Saraswathy teacher.
Where is she working?
She taught in the government school at Shoranur. Now she has retired and come back to her home.
How many people are there?
Only mother and myself. Sir, come home. We will give you plenty of mangoes.
I hesitated; her face somehow attracted me. I followed her.
Presently, we came to a spacious orchard. We had to walk for five minutes to reach the old fashioned house which was a three storeyed building with laterite stones, unplastered and with tiles.
The whole atmosphere has a romantic appeal.
The girl, about fifteen years, ran in and came out with her mother.
Oh! It is Sir: she cried out.
I could not recollect her face. Her hair is black and curly. Those eyes somehow ticked something and I tried to recollect it.
She continued: you taught us in the seventh standard. You were very shy and never looked at girls. You were very thin and always thinking of something. Among teachers also you remained aloof.
You are talking about Durga High School at Kanhangad? I was there only for four months.
We all liked you. You used to tell us stories.
Where is your husband? How did you study in a far away school?
Because there was no school here. My uncle was a teacher there. I forgot to ask for tea.; or is it coffee? Sarala, put water for boiling.
She was very excited and went on talking. In between, she went in and brought coffee.
What about your children?
Only one son. He married a negro, the daughter of his business partner. Rarely, they come home.
I am sorry to hear this.
I do not know how long I remained talking to Saraswathy. Her enthusiasm percolated to me.
At last I came to the marriage hall, not before promising to write to her. We had exchanged address and phone number of each other.
My wife and I went to the temples in Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka. When we returned, there were many bulky envelops and I hid them from my wife. Afterwards, when I read them all, I became pensive. What would have happened if I had continued to teach at Durga High School? Will she not let me know of her love for me? I was penniless and we are from different castes. Will I stand up for our marriage? It is a ticklish question. In a way I am glad it did not happen.
One day she came to our house with the girl. She is due to join college. Could I stand as her local guardian?
I consulted my wife. She agreed to accommodate Sarala.
I loved the girl as my own daughter. She was above average but needed tuition. So I arranged a masterji.
In the mean time, my son and his wife came home. They wanted a quiet place to spend their holiday. I suggested Saraswthy’s home. They later told me how devotedly she looked after their comforts. Their only regret is that she refused to accept any money. They returned, promising to come again.
Once when I fell ill, Saraswathy came and nursed me for about a fortnight. She had an opportunity to open her heart. She chided me for being so meek: There is nothing like love. Everything else is secondary. I am ready to die for love!
A decade later, my wife went to America. I received an urgent message from Saraswathy and went to see her. Sarala’s husband was also there..
She was very weak and held my hand tightly as if I can save her.
She told me when we were alone: say once that you love me.
I kissed her. I said: I LOVE YOU!!!
She smiled and slowly her grip of my hand slackened. Before my eyes, she breathed her last
Sarala told me that the house and orchard had been given to me as a gift.
I embraced the girl and wept.

OPEN WELL FOR WATER STORAGE a href=’http://www.blogsurfer.us/

When we water the plants, it keeps the earth wet, but most of the water evaporates quickly. As the air pockets around water droplets inside the earth’s surface, prevent water from traveling inside the soil, the effectiveness of the method is minimal.
I am trying open well method. The wells may be small in size, but deep enough to wet the soil below the surface. These wells will get filled during rainy season or may be filled with PANCHAYATH WATER, SO CALLED BECAUSE THE PANCHAYATH IS PUMPING WATER FROM THE RIVER AND SUPPLYING TO FARMERS IN OUR SIDE.
When full, these must be covered, to prevent evaporation. Air pockets are less in deeper strata and so water molecules will easily travel in all directions. Minute roots of plants will use this water.

This is still my experiment and I shall convey the results to my viewers in due course.
The first well of one yard diameter was dug, two yards deep and filled with Panchayath water today.