From the day one , we are familiar with Ma , whose milk is our food. The person whom we love most is Ma. Foster mother is equally dear , as in Krishna’s Yashoda. The boy did not even know his real mother Devki.
When we grow up , there can be differences between mother and son . On the other hand , they may become friends. The Maratha King Shivaji’s mother was his guide and guru.
Maxim Gorky’s novel “Mother” played a significant role in the Russian revolution.
The word “Ma” is anathema to Muslims , because it denotes “Devi” of Hindus
“Vande Matharam” was to be our National Anthem , but it was rejected because of Muslim opposition. It is a beautiful poem!



From Ashvini Hospital , where I had gone to visit my wife , I spent some time selling books . It was eleven O clock and I decided t return home.
I had decided to sell some books at Vaidyarathnam Corporate off ice and luckily , there was a bus passing that way. I told my relative Mallika about my mission and she said immediately:” Today is Sasi’s son’s marriage; are you not going there?” “Oh! I forgot . Thank you for reminding me.” I got out and , luckily , an auto was passing by m I hailed it and reached the Parvathy marriage hall at Edakunni in fifteen minutes. The marriage was over , The last batch was sitting for the feast. I saw Soya and told her about my wife’s operation. After wards , I went up to see the newly married couple. The photographer was busy. Soya told him to take my photo with the couple on either side . So a record of my visit is now available. Sasi’s son who is in America, was seeing me after a number of years.
Afterwards , I went to my mother’s house at Naruvakulangarsa , along with Soya , and participated in ‘kudiveppu’, reception of the bride . It was here that I lived while studying in St. Thomas College. Soya and Sasi (the first child Mohanan is no more) were small then.


His origin is obscure. Some say it was Paru who discovered him.
Paru is the sweeper, who, while cleaning the premises of the grocery shop in the village, saw some movement in a bundle of cloths. On closer examination, it was a baby, hardy a day old. She took it home and looked after it.
They called him chekkan, child, until someone called him idiot.
He did all things, without any remuneration, ate anything given to him, always smiled and never quarreled like other children. Ask him to bring your baggage, left behind some three miles away; he will run all the distance and carry the heavy thing on his shoulders. If you give him money, he will accept, otherwise also he will smile and go about doing other errands. Only an idiot will behave like that; so the word Pottan became his name.
Paru had her own children going to school. So she sent Pottan to school. Teachers told her that he cannot understand a word. So there too he was sent to bring tea, water etc.
Pottan went to all feasts and ate till his belly bulged like a balloon. There, too, he worked like other laborers.
No wonder they liked Pottan.
If you get an impression that Pottan is an uncouth figure, you are sadly mistaken.
Far from that, he is fair and handsome. So it is not surprising that a young lady took a fancy for him. This is how it happened.
One day, this girl arrived at the grocery shop, Pottan’s home, having got down from the bus, with a lot of baggage. Puttan promptly took all that and having placed each item on his head, shoulder and two hands, looked at her, indicating with his eyes- where to go?
“Who are you?”
“All people know me; I am Pottan.”
“Idiot? I wanted to know your name.”
“I have no other name.”
She, Madhu, told that her father will return shortly from Dubai and set up business there. She gave him a hundred rupee note and Paru was very glad to have it.
Slowly their attachment thickened and she took Pottan as her escort, wherever she went.
She was a graduate and computer programmer. She slowly taught Pottan to speak and understand English words. She tried to make him understand the working of computer.
Pottan now approached eighteen years of age and was appointed as peon in the Panchayat Office.
He was given the name of Gautam by Madhu, because he cannot be a Pottan in office records. In fact, all were surprised by the change in the boy, who now commanded respect.
It was a great relief for Paru, who was struggling with four daughters, all growing too fast. There was no help from her husband who was a drunkard.
When Panchayat elections came, Madhu contested as President, because it was reserved for women. Pottan, as he was still called by the villagers, worked hard and Madhu won by a comfortable majority.
Madhu’s father came and established his own business in the town. Gautam was the natural selection for the post of office boy.
All went well for a period.
One evening, Madhu and Pottan were returning from the town. It was Sunday and there was no bus for the village. They decided to walk.
The half Moon shone brightly and a breeze cooled the hot atmosphere. Madhu held his hand and they sat down in an isolated spot. Intoxication of youth overcame them and the girl guided the inexperienced boy to explore her body, with its hills and valleys and hidden tunnel, waiting to be filled with his vigour….
Suddenly some one flashed the torch light.
The next day, they discussed it. Madhu told him to go away for the time being, but he refused.
Within a week, some people, armed with lethal weapons, attacked Paru’s house, pulled Pottan out and beat him to death….
Post script.
Madhu shifted to Paru’s house and in due course, delivered a bonny baby. In its birth certificate, its name was Ashok and father’s name Gautam.
Madhu never married and looked after the child and Paru’s family.


I worked in the newspaper industry for fifty years.
In the beginning, at the age of fifteen, I worked as a boy distributing paper. I had failed in the seventh standard and left school. A friend in the industry told me to go on reading whatever came in my hand. He gave me some books. I got books from the village library.
As my friend had contacts with a printer, he gave me a job as type setter. A number of letters of the alphabet is arranged systematically in compartments of a board. The required letters are arranged in reverse order and fixed to the printing board. TIGER is arranged as REGIT. Then printing ink is smeared and pressed on the paper, which will be printed with the word TIGER.
It is a tedious and messy work, but better wages with less manual work is the attraction.
My friend got involved in revolutionary activities and they wanted to print books explaining their ideology. Here my experience became handy. I was asked to do things in secrecy.
Then I started writing. I came in contact with leaders of the movement and became a functionary in the party. When the ban on our party was lifted, we all came out and moved openly among the people, arranging meetings, selling books in festivals, staging drama for propagating our thinking. Soon I came into contact with ladies too, but marriage was discouraged by the Party. I remained a bachelor.
When I was sixty, my friend died suddenly and I became an orphan, intellectually speaking. The failure of our movement also was a disappointment. I decided to seek sanyas (become a saint) and wandered in the Himalayas.
I had not seen the South and wished to tour the land on foot.
One day I reached an unknown village by the side of the river Shipra. It was a charming place with few dwellings, all very poor and hardly any government building, even the post office being far away. I took bath and ate something from my bag, which contained few cloths and no money. I slept under a neem tree.
When I woke up in the morning, a mall girl of some nine years or so, was standing by my side.
She smiled and said Namaste.
May God bless you, my child.
Ma told me to come home and have your break fast.
As I was hungry, I followed her. Presently we reached her home.
They gave me tooth powder made of some herbs and water in a bucket to take bath. After that I was given pooris and potato curry to eat.
Maji did not come out until I had finished eating. She now came and bowed at my feet: Swamiji, bless me for a boy. I am expecting delivery in a month.
She was fair and had thick flock of hair, brown in colour. I placed my hands on her bowed head and chanted a Samskrutham verse from the veda . When that was over, she placed hundred rupees at my feet and got up. She said:
I know that sanyasis do not stay at one place; but it is my humble request that you stay, at least till my delivery.
I did not have the heart to refuse.
The next Sunday, her husband, who worked in a government office, came. He was very jolly and talkative. He too repeated his wife’s plea and insisted that I stay, as their honoured guest.
Next day, I went around, accompanied by the bright lively girl, who told me all she knew about the place and the people who lived there. She was curious to know about the outside world of which she knew nothing. One day I took her to a temple, some three miles away. There I chanted sahasranama (thousand names of Lord Vishnu), sitting in front of the deity. People placed coins and some notes in my lap and sought my blessings. During the Himalayan tour, which lasted a dozen years, I read a lot of books in the ancient language of our land. And learned many passages by heart.
When we reached home, I handed over the money to Maji.
They made saffron cloths for me, to make me a Swamiji. A number of people, especially women, began coming to visit me. I patiently heard them and they, in turn, gave me money or fruits. My reputation reached far and wide, after a boy was born to Maji. They even started work for constructing an ashram for me. I insisted that it should be a humble hermitage, built with bamboo and thatched with grass roof. The mud floor was to be plastered with cow dung. Food was still brought from Maji’s home, until a very young girl joined the ashram as my disciple. She served me and cooked food for the inmates of the ashram.
I surveyed the area and found a depression in the river bed, where dirty, stagnant water collected even in summer. I suggested making an earthen dam at this point. The river bed here was widened and deepened to store a large quantity of water in the rainy season
At that time a man gifted one crore rupees to the ashram. He believed that his business increased hundred times after I blessed him. With this money the construction of roads also was done along with the dam.
Achary Vinoba Bhave, who stayed in my Ashram for one month, gave me all the land which he got from bhoodan movement during his stay.
I decided to have a goshala (cow shed) and a farm. All workers got food in addition to wages. The gas from the cow dung was used for making biogas. Electrification of the village was done by solar power.
The number of inmates also increased as the ashram expanded.
Maji’s daughter was married off to a wealthy businessman. Her son became an engineer. He took keen interest in the affairs of the ashram.
I missed the company of Maji. The quiet old days of my stay at her house was something of a dream now. But I realized that a lot of good things can be done in my new role.
Already, there are demands from the South, for a branch of the ashram to be set up near Chidambaram. One day, I set out to the South, for surveying a suitable place, accompanied by Maji, her son and daughter, who was very eager to accompany us.

LET ME SHARE A HAPPY NEWS =’text/javascript’ src=

I became a dada (paternal grandfather), when my son Sudhir got a female baby on 17-12-2010, at 4.15 local time.
Other details are:
Malayalam month- Dhanu
Thithy- shukla ekadashi

ALL ICONS HAVE FEET OF CLAY – GANDHI- ext/javascript’ src=

M.K.Gandhi is described as Mahatma. He is the father of the Nation.

Our nation is India. Was there no India before him? Why is his birth day a National Holiday?

His eldest son wanted to go to England for higher studies. He refused to help him. The unlucky boy became a nuisance and in the end, died like a beggar. The hospital authorities never knew he was Gandhi’s son. ALL THIS HAPPENED BECAUSE HE DID NOT HEAR GANDI’S ADVICE. HOW CAN A FATHER BE SO CRUEL TO HIS OWN SON?

As a father he failed miserably and even God will not pardon him.

Whoever called Gandhi the father of the Nation, is a foolish hypocrite.

He forced his wife to clean the toilet. In those days, people used to sit on a raised platform and expel the faeces, through a hole, into a vessel which is cleaned by scheduled caste untouchables (Harijans). Gandhi wanted to do it by each family to save the Harijans from this dirty work. It is a good idea. But why did he not do it himself? Why force his unwilling wife?

He was sexually very active and produced several children. After his wife’s death, he used to sleep naked, with a young girl on each side. Why? Why did he force Acharya Kriplani to abstain from sex with his duly married wife?

Within the family he was an autocrat.He never respected the wishes of his wife and children, who liked to live like other people. He wanted to give the Indians an impression that he is a sage (sanyasi, fakir) because Indians revered such people. He was a pretender. Why didn’t he live in a Harijan colony? Why did he accept the hospitality of Birla, a capitalist who ruthlessly exploited the labour? If a bureaucrat had done so, he would be penalized.

When the  Nation was butchered by Nehru-Mountbatten agreement, by cutting it into three in 1947, Gandhi connived. He could and should have prevented it. He had declared that partition of India would be over his dead body. Why didn’t he fast unto death, as he had done on several other occasions?

Because, he wanted to make Nehru the Prime Minister. He eliminated all possible rivals like Subhash Bose and Maulana Azad by skilful manipulations, using his position as virtual dictator of the Congress party. He never allowed the party to become a democratic institution like Labour Party of England, though in everything else Nehru blindly imitated the English

He did not love his own children, but loved Nehru more than anything else. Can a fakir love a person like this, blindly, forgetting that he killed the Nation?

Godse was a fool and a coward, to kill an old man. Gandhi should have been be exposed, not eliminated by the bullet

The power of the media is terrifying. The whole world believe in the image of this man, not ready to examine his true nature, unprejudiced by the media.
Socrates is my Guru. Do not accept anything without questioning.


History is replete with instances of childlessness.

King Dashrath of Ayodhya conducted puthrakameshty yagam (Yajn) to invoke divine power to produce children.

Heroine of freedom struggle of 1857, Rani Lakshmibai of Jhansi, was a close friend of the British. But she failed to have a son and the British refused permission to adopt one. She was so much annoyed that she herself fought against the British forces, in the ensuing war.

This trend has gained momentum in recent times. I know several couple who would pay any price to have babies, male or female.

Has the modern life style contributed to what is called anapathyata (infertility)?

I BELIEVE THAT WE SHOULD NOT ASK FOR ANYTHING. Our Father in heaven knows what is best for us.