THE INDIAN COMMENTATOR

"What you know is mostly what you feel about knowing something." -- Anu. One day God found the Angel of Death lost in a deep meditation. That was unusual about the angel. “What are you thinking; you most exuberant of my creations?” God asked. Shaken from his thought, the Death Angel fumbled: “Master, I was studying how emotions work in human beings.” “And why this befuddled expression on your face?” “Father, I learned that emotions in human beings are akin to expressivity. And then I tested them to understand if they have mastered how they express their emotions.” “I saw your test, my child. Now, tell me what did you learn from it?” God said. “Lord, when I presented a man with precious he cried bitter tears. I heard him say ‘what have I done that the angel himself has come to me.’ Another time, when I appeared to a woman and took her elder son’s life, she had a smile on her face, and I heard her whisper; ‘my son is in heaven’s gate.’ This is the lesson I learned, Creator ...

“Then the eyes of both of them became opened and they began to realize that they were naked. Hence they sewed fig leaves together and made loin coverings for themselves.”  — Genesis 3:7 “I came up to you risking my reputation. They will call me insane, for I consulted you, a doctor for the mind. But for my sister, I can cross the any limit. I need to save her, her mind, I mean.” When the young girl finished talking, the psychiatrist asked: “What is her problem?” “She finds it pleasing to expose herself, especially her legs.” “Why have you come alone, then?” “She doesn’t think she is out of her mind, or what she does is against the norms of our culture.” The doctor and the young girl took a long time to reach the S. N Park. It was high traffic hour in the Kannur city. “There she is,” the young girl pointed to a girl, who was reading under the shade of a tree, in a frock that exposed her legs from the knees. She was sitting in a gentle way, with her legs crossed. “I cannot see...

This is a Molecular story : A molecular story is a very short story; a very very short one, with all the impacts and effects of a real one with all the intrinsic structural peculiarities. The Fragrance was with a lady, one with a rose that decorated her dark tresses. The port was filled with people as the ship had lifted its sails to part with the shore. The lady too, was there to farewell someone: her beloved. Fragrance desired to enter the ship. But the lady was not leaving at all. The rose in her braids, the lady thought of gifting her lover, who was leaving for a long journey. But the lady was sad, too, because she was left in that land, alone. She knew her slightest change of emotion would give him chronic heart-aches, and now that was exactly how she wanted to avenge her love hurt. She did not give him the flower, as a silent word of frustration. But she decided to keep the flower in her diary, forever. The Fragrance could leave the flower and take the a...

Your likes, Dislikes, dreams, Nightmares, The soil you are- Born out of, The smell of your cloister, And may be what to know about you, With a whim of knowing you not, And also that I don’t exist in your world, All is known to me. I know you. And the feeling of knowing you suffocates me. There is no going back now. ‘I know you.’ You no more exist, But what I know about you. ‘And the feeling of knowing you suffocates me.’

A Molecular Story : A molecular story is a very short story. A very very short one, with all the impacts and effects of a real one with all the intrinsic structural peculiarities. Once upon a time the people of the Far East believed in the existence of a bridge. The bridge was called Predictability. Whenever their earth shook and mines exploded they took refuge on the bridge. They constructed their lives around this bridge. But one day some thing happened and Predictability failed. That was the day when the sea was in a mad rage, and was coming to eat them alive. The bridge was destroyed. And the unpredictable overpowered man’s earth. But when the sun shone bright the water withdrew, and man found a vast land endlessly stretched in front of him, he called the land his new bridge. And gave it a new name: Hope.

"If you look for answers in love, the questions will never end. The answer is Love itself." What if I hold the right To die for you more than Being alive myself; What if I love you more than You ever thought And what if my love's infinity Is always away an unknown distance From the nearness of- Your loved ones from you? What if I am you?

This  news item was found in the BBC on line.  The most powerful earthquake to hit Japan since records began has struck the country's north-east and triggered a devastating tsunami. Japanese TV showed cars, ships and buildings swept away by a vast wall of water after the 8.9-magnitude quake. A state of emergency has been declared at a nuclear power plant but officials said there were no radiation leaks. At least 60 people have been killed by the quake, which struck about 400km (250 miles) north-east of Tokyo. The death toll is expected to rise significantly. Fore more, use this link : http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-pacific-12709598 Now the question is what we can do for those living beings out there in the forefront of the wild dance of death. We can pray.  The report says death toll as 60. Prayer: May there be peace for all those departed souls. May there be peace in the hearts of the living. May there be peace with the earth. May there be peace w...

“Perseverance is not that steady rock that slowly loses itself in the torrent, but that wise tree that gently sways and gives way to the storm and exists as shade to passersby and home to that which fly.” A stranger arrived at the party offered by the richest businessman in Chalode. The businessman was in his fifties. He owned a network of restaurants and hotels in the area. Once in a year he gave party to his friends. The stranger found the businessman talking among a group of people. “I would like to have a chat with you.” The stranger said to the businessman. Both of them settled themselves in one of the corners of the huge hall. The stranger looked restless. Before the  stranger could speak anything  the businessman said: “I sent you the invitation, because I wanted you to be here. I would like to tell you my story.” He narrated the story of how he became rich. He had started his business more than twenty years back at Chalode, which was a very small town back then. He...

“There is a crack in everything that is how the light gets in” —Leonard Cohen. When  a story is born angels smile. They rejoice along with God, for a story is the writer’s resurrection under the shade of words, calling for spaces so close to the signs with endless meaning, the young writer thought. He was sitting alone nearby a river, which was deep enough to swallow even a huge mountain. He was about to make the most crucial decision in his life; he was going to die by flinging himself into the depths of the river. The sun shone bright in the sky. His tears dried up on his cheek. He stood up and moved closer to the river. But then he heard something like a murmur. Was it an animal? It could be an animal. The place was near to the forest. Would this animal kill him first? Being a failure in life, he had decided what his end should be like; he had prepared his mind to be drowned in the peace of the river, to commit suicide. It was a sin, according to his tradition. He knew he wa...

"The best way to know love is to lose it."-- Anu Had a writer been watching us, he would have written: a man and woman were walking on the beach, may be a husband and wife or may be lovers; they hardly seemed friends since their hands were intertwined in such a fashion that could drive out any possible suggestion about their relationship except that they were in love. The writer was with me; my writer, my love, part of my body and soul, my husband. Near me, Manu was a warm presence, but I knew he was feeling confused, may be a little out of place. The previous night, he had told me that he was in a block and that he felt absolutely cut off from his personal fairy land.  January 3 rd 2011 was a special day in our lives: the third anniversary of our marriage. I don’t know who decided on our visit to Muzhappilangad Beach . Someone; may be our love; the love that we believed divine, close to God. It takes just a glance for expectations, sometimes, to shatter. But it did no...