RESTING POSE-SOME TIPS

RESTING POSE-SOME TIPS

When you are not doing anything , it is desirable to lie down , on hard back cot without pillows. It is more useful to close your eyes because seeing consumes a good amount of energy. This will ensure total inactivity and may even induce sleep.

This position is shavasana , a yogic position. Try this immediately on coming home , after a day of tiresome work.

Animals have four legs which will ensure even distribution of weight and relieve pressure on lower parts. If you are having headache , it will be helpful.

When we stand and work , it will have bad effects like hernia.

Advertisements

WE ARE FLYING TO DELHI

WE ARE FLYING TO DELHI
On 7th of this Month , we are flying to Delhi , because my daughter likes to avoid taking further leave . After one month or so , when my wife will be able to look after herself , we may return to our home . I hope to use this opportunity , to manage registration of my newspaper. As soon as I get it , I intend to return home, leaving my wife in the Capital.

STORY-LOCK OUT

LOCK OUT
I was working as writer in a rubber plantation in Munnar. Our only daughter was in the College . My wife belongs to a rich family at Kollam , but she loved me dearly and life seemed smooth and happy. So the notice of lock out by the Management, was bolt from the blue
My wife Devu was thrifty and she used to invest in chit funds etc. I told her:” Do not tell your family. I have friends at Jamshedpur. I will go there and try to get some work. Give me some money for rail fare. I shall stay with my friend”
At the time of departure she cried. It was the first time I left her alone:”Be brave; I shall call you there as soon as I get some work, eve that of a peon”
It was my first travel to the North. I did not know Hindi, but there were Malayalees in the train and did not have any difficulty.
My friend was waiting at the station. We talked about family matters and reached his flat. His wife is fair to look at and charming I her movements:”You are lucky”, I told him.
For the time being, I got the job of a watchman in a housing Society. A one room shack was given for my stay. I informed Devu and she came with a friend known to us , leaving our daughter in her home. She was happy that we are united again. It was in her home that I first saw the sea. Whenever I felt , I went and watched the sea. Devu used to say:”If you like it here , you must try for a job here.” But I did not have much education. My father knew the Englishman who owned the rubber estate. So he managed to give me the work of the ‘writer’, which is management of the labour, keeping record of their salary, leave etc.
Devu was very happy, as she loved the hills. She was very popular among the Union workers and knew in advance, about the impending lock out.”Why didn’t you tell me?” ”I did not like to cause pain to you; I thought I will bring you to my home and give you some work.”
We used to go about the country side . I found that there were no grocery shops on this side of the rail. Even women would go three miles , crossing the rail to brig atta , vegetables , salt etc. “Why not open a shop here?”, I asked Devu. She wholeheartedly approved the idea.
With the permission of the society, I put up a temporary room with asbestos roof . I engaged a local boy and stocked all items needed by people , including bangles and bindi. Devu used to come after cooking is over; now we lived in a similar room, behind the shop.
I need not say the business prospered.
Hearing our success story , my daughter came to see it personally. She is a commerce graduate and knows computer . She made soft ware for accounting on her lap top. At her instance, I bought desk top machine and now billing is done on computer. I gave strict instructions that if any item is returned as below quality, the money should be returned. Such things (very rare) are used at home.
Message came from home that her marriage is fixed. As all of us cannot leave this place , I sent mother and daughter home.

LOCK AND KEY

It happened way back in 1993.
I was re-employed in Konkan Railway at Karwar. Our office was in the town itself. I was alone, my wife having gone to Delhi, to help my daughter, who had given birth to a girl.
After office hours, I wandered aimlessly. The sea shore is very near and offers fresh air, and its attraction never ends. Then a visit to the temples of Shreeram, Hanuman etc. The last item is food in any restaurant. That day there was a bhajan and I joined the crowd of devotees, without any purpose, just to while away the time.
The idea of writing never occurred to me in those days.
When I reached home, a rented house, some distance away from the town, it must have been past eleven.
I tried all the three keys in my pocket, again and again, without success. (This inability to open a lock persists to this day!)
What could I do?
In desperation, I approached the neighbor and he promptly came to my help. His first attempt succeeded and I thanked him profusely.
Did he think I was drunk?

HYSTERIA

I do not think it is a new disease. Now, all are suffering from this mysterious illness.
Religious hysteria is no less than war hysteria or any flimsy cause like the death of a cinema hero, causing suicide by a number of fans!
I forget whether I had switched off the stove, after locking the door. They say, this to is a type of hysteria!
A maid in our ancestral home, used to see Lord Guruvayoorappan. Kuttichathan used to throw dirty things in cooked rice, avers those affected by its mischief. In Ceylon, people see the ghosts of dead elephants.
Hallucination may be a type of hysteria.
Is it allied to schizophrenia? I may have both.
Once, I had returned from evening walk. Where we were staying, I saw three elephants with drum beating etc. It was usual during pooram festival season. When I came close, lo!; there is only one elephant.
Where have the other two disappeared?

STORY- SREE GURUVAYOORAPPAN <script type='text/javascript' src=

Ramu and Kuttan decided to run away from home. Both were smart and cunning, with no inclination to study. Ramu was the leader. He stole whatever money there was in his father’s purse and one fine morning, got into a train, without buying any tickests.
It was way back in 1933. All seats were unreserved. Travelling Ticket Examiners used to check and catch those without tickets.
Our boys were caught. As they were about twelve only, they were asked to get down at Coimbatore.
A gentleman, who was watching all this, offered to give them work in his tea shop. Ramu was thin and agile. He was given the work of supplying tea and snacks. His friend worked in the back yard, grinding rice, udad etc. As his father was without work, he sent home money. Ramu spent his wages in seeing pictures in cinema theatres. Of course, they went together.
Then they went to Madras. Actually it was their employer who suggested it, as he got local people as substitutes.
MADRAS CLUB
As directed by the ex-employer, they approached the man in Madras and were taken immediately. Ramu became cashier and Kuttan proved a good cook. A Tamilian girl, Lakshmi used to patronize the Madras hotel, as it was called and became friendly with Ramu. She was a college student, much older than Ramu, plump and black as charcoal.
Ramu used to draw sketches of all people who visited the hotel and Lakshmi enjoyed watching it.
One day hooligans ransacked the hotel and both Ramu and Kuttan were beaten up.
For two days the hotel was closed.
Kuttan suggested going back to the village and setting up their own business.
Before going, an FIR was lodged in Madras, the leader of the musclemen, having been identified from the sketches. He had come there earlier also.
Often, Ramu was summoned to attend the Court at Maras and Lakshmi would take him to her house. It was neat and tidy and they became very close.
One day she too came to Keralam and they were married at Guruvayoor temple.
Ramu’s reputation as cartoonist spread far and wide, after his story appeared in newspapers and TV channels. He got several assignments, including CBI. He became rich.

Kuttan married his uncle’s daughter, traditional murappennu and both friends had children.
They were happy, but the gods became envious.
Ramu was struck with paralysis of the left leg. Lakshmi persuaded him to construct a Guruvayoorappan temple in their locality, so that she can pray to Him daily. She had heard of such faith healing.
With good connections, donations poured in and a mini model replica of the original temple became a reality. Ramu became busy, painting Krishna story on the walls of the temple, leaving business to Kuttan, by making a special scaffold to adjust his paralyzed leg
Poor children were fed in the temple daily. No money was extracted for doing pooja at the temple and it attracted visitors from far away places.
May Guruvayoorappan bless Ramu!

FICTION-NEW SHABARIMALA <a href=’http://www.blogsurfer.us/

Even as a child, I used to accompany my mother, who is entrusted with the work of cleaning utensils, used for cooking rice, pudding etc. for offering to our Deity of Lord Sastha, making garlands for adorning it and general cleanliness inside the temple. Only the family specifically allotted for the work, may do it. People belonging to other castes are not allowed. At thirteen, I could manage alone, when mother was polluted during her monthly periods.

The poojary was a very old namboodiri, past eighty, somehow performing his duties. One room in our house was kept ready for him to sleep. After 8 in the evening it was impossible to walk two miles along the narrow path, which was a water channel, during monsoon. Our temple is in a forest. There were none living near by.

After the morning duties, the old man will leave for his home and return by five in the evening. He will take bath in the temple pond, before entering the temple.

Father worked in a factory in the town. He keeps his bicycle at a house, in the road to the town, which becomes a dust zone, whenever a vehicle passes along. There were few buses. People will wait for half an hour to get a bus.

Mother died when I was fifteen. I suggested that we move to some temple in the town, where we may get more money for our work, from offerings to the Deity. Father said that we are working for Him, not for money.

I could not go to a school. Father thought it unwise to allow girls to go out alone. He taught me Malayalam and simple arithmetic. I used to read the newspaper brought from the factory, when father returns.

I became tuned to loneliness. From our temple, which stood at a height, I could enjoy the scenery. The colour changed in the morning freshness and in the quiet of the evening. I could see the trains passing, running slow, it seems from the distance.

In the winter, when the sky is cloudless, I would watch the stars, appearing one after another. Father knew much but I too recognized some bright ones. Probably they are planets like Venus and Jupiter.

When the old man became too weak, his son started doing the rites. He was almost my age, seventeen at that time. It was a welcome change. The boy was handsome and very talkative. Most of the time, we were alone and I helped him in cooking too, as he was a novice. Once father saw it and scolded me: in another year, you may get married. Be more circumspect.

My marriage was fixed long ago, to my uncle’s son Krishnan, who is studying in the college. He used to come during vacations. Several times I enjoyed sex with him and now I used that experience, to seduce our young poojary. We did it even in the temple kitchen. No one enters the kitchen.

Once I accompanied him on his way back, after completing the morning rites in the temple. After about half an hour, we saw a big hill on the left side. I like climbing hills and suggested going up. It was very steep and somehow we made it to the summit. A breath taking view, with the river meandering through rice fields and hills, a number of tall buildings in the distant city and blue mountains in the Eastern horizon…God is an imaginative architect in landscaping!

My friend pointed out excitedly. I turned and saw a dilapidated structure, resembling a temple. We traced our steps towards it.

There were only small sections of the wall still remaining. The sanctum was intact. Poojary scrutinized the image of the deity and confirmed it was Satha! We hurriedly came down and reached the junction of the dirt road, with the bus root.

There was a bus going to the town and we went immediately. I called Krishnan on phone. He had some friends in the press and they all came to see the new Shabarimala. Soon the local papers mentioned my name as the discoverer of this ancient temple. A flurry of activities followed. The dirt road was widened. A new road, with stone steps where the land was steep, culverts for crossing small streams etc. began, with money pouring in from all over India and outside.

As the new road began from our temple, we became the focus. Our earnings went up. Father maintains that it is all His will.

I married Krishnan and managed to give the poor boy a stolen kiss!