THE INDIAN COMMENTATOR

I heard him sing first before I was born. Yesudas, the legendary voice that has been occupying a permanent place in the hearts of the music lovers around the world, is celebrating his 70th birthday. One of the true Keralite, he was born in a middle class Christian family. After realising his own talents in music, he dedicated his entire life for music. He has registered his presence as a singer beyond comparison, in world musical history. Besides he has directed music for a couple of Malayalam movies, a job, which he averted and ignored completely, later. My father is his hard core fan and preferred to listen to his songs whenever he has time, a habit, which he ruefully abandoned, though not fully, due to the lack of free hours. But still he is a fan of that magical voice. My first memories about Yesuads’ songs are, as I said, prenatal. Some scientists say that the child in mother’s womb listens to the sound waves around. And if a particular sound has been encountered with the child in...

I haven't been forced to do this nor obliged, but it is out of love. I write and read and learn literature because I love it. I write, for I do not exist in any other form other than words, sentences, punctuations, and blank spaces. I write truth, and that is all about what I write. And I love truth. No one believes a truth that is imperfect and lame. But I do. For the truth I know is not a perfect neat structure, which has been constructed by the most talented engineer. Truth, for me, is-and I think this is the reality-an imperfect, weak living identity. I am in love with it. When we love someone, we never see one's flaws. So I too do not see the flaws in the truth. They who do not take truth as it is, along with all the flaws and imperfections, do not love it, but are simply forced to live with it, and are afraid of breaking the laws, which someone else has put in the path of the search for truth. I write not just because I love to tell the truth, but also for my own ex...

This beautiful picture, I am gifted by my Tia, Terri, a very talented art designer and owner of the blog BloomingideasMI . I would like to use this Post as a space to register my heart-felt thanks to her. She had sent me another priceless gift, one copy of The Holy Scriptures and a self designed card. Sometimes words do feel lacking in their depth, such as in these moments, when I feel a lack in my words to convey my emotions of thankfulness completely and to the truest extent. On the very first look itself, this picture had conquered my heart. I felt a series of emotions popping out in my mind, and in my soul. Even though essence or soul is an abstract and non tangible presence or concept, I felt my soul presenting itself through an identifiable form, which rather resembled the face in the picture; and so I wrote in my letter to her- 'I have fallen in love with this picture.' Truly, the cute girl in the picture is more than what it seems. This picture is something of its sort...

[A story, formerly published under Socyberty. ] Image Courtesy: Google I didn't find the error, but it found me. It was demoniac! It was a Black Hole! As part of the new year celebrations, the students of the MBA department had written a poster and displayed it on the notice board. It was a Hindi message, though written in English script on the new year celebration. It seemed the brain child of an undeveloped poet. Hindi is a language that follows gender specification for words. One of the words used in that write-up was masculine in gender, but was preceded by a feminine preposition, whereas it must be a masculine preposition. It attracted me as I reached near the poster. It had started pulling me in whenever I passed near it from that day. The error revealed itself as a Black Hole. It was horrendous. I wanted to get rid of this trouble. I waited for someone to notice it and change it. Three days passed. But the error remained the same. Making mistake is part of l...

[This story was also published in: Authspot ] My character reached a Monastery. He met the head priest and expressed his desire to be a Sanyasi, a saint; to enter into sainthood and lead a life of self effacement and giving. The head priest asked the question. "why do you want sainthood?" My character spoke:"The person whom I was in love with, left me. I do not want to go back to that life again, I want to lead the life of a celibate, a saint." "But that is not a reason for accepting you into sainthood, son. Go back"- The priest said. "Please, let me speak"-My character insisted and started speaking without waiting for the priest's consent. "I know that sainthood is a search for peace, for knowledge, for the light. But I realised that love is a battle in which each one asserts oneself over the other!" He continued- " There is no peace in battle and-" "You are wrong"- The head priest intervened. ...