Thursday, March 26, 2009



Terry, has bestowed upon me this award in the blogger’s world for the poem “THE PRINCE”.

The poem was published on Thursday, march 19, 2009, under the label ‘international’.

This is really an inspiring event when every other person usually owes his or her indebtedness to others. Yes, that is something nice to do. I cannot forget those people who helped me, supported me end guided me. This itself is the cause of the dilemma in me, for there are very few words in use to express the gratitude, which we feel to others. My gratitude to those people is inexplicable. Therefore, let me accept this fact by myself and tell you that I really feel obliged to each one of you.

I would like to include those comments, on my blog, which I received via. E-mail from my readers.

Miss.Kristi Sebens
What part of India are you from? I am curious because my Mom grew up in India and I went to India when I was 14. It will always be a special memory, and Indian food continues to be my favorite (especially Naan and Mutter Paneer!).Writing is a wonderful thing, no? Keep it up.

Miss. Sini Jose
(KERALA) On 26 Feb 2009
hello anu lal , u r in the right path...see more..feel more...and write more… wishes to the ' little great writer..... '

(HARIYANA) On 11 Jan. 2009
hai anulal , I went through ur blog. It was very nice. i tried to post some comments also . But it was not successful. i will try some other day. Good day. Take care...

Sarath Krishnan.

(KERALA) On 24 jan 2009
Hello da,
I don't know how to respond to this poem (“The Police Constable’s Father”) because several thoughts simultaneously come to my mind. First about our class about Plato; if poetry can influence us these news of atrocities can also affect us. And that old MAN is atypical representative of the middle class society who never realizes that in the near future these fascists will be our MASTERS. The last line is a symbol of modern life; the uncertainties of the period.

(KERALA) On 26 FEB 2009.
Hello Anulal,
You are simply superb!!!!

Miss. Samira.
(INDIA) On 23 March 2009.
Your blog is wonderful. Keep writing good stuff. My family and I are great fans of your writings. All the very best.

Paulo Coelho

Dear Anulal,
As Warriors of the Light, we shall continue in pursue of our dreams.
The road to wisdom is to have no fear of making mistakes.
Much Love
Paulo Coelho

Friday, March 20, 2009

A Pupa and Its Journey

Image Courtesy: Google
The only campus Jay knew was the Government Polytechnic College, where he pondered for three years about his future as a writer, after his higher secondary science group disaster.

His parents wanted him to be a physician. Therefore, he was forced to join the science group. Later, when he passed in almost all the science subjects in narrow margins  they wanted him to choose a path for a job. So he was thrown into the courtyards of technical education. As he joined the diploma for electronics engineering, his hopes were sky high but his dreams were shattered.

Though he always liked the art, the art of poetry, the art of story telling, the art of writing; it dried in the rotten dry atmosphere of that technical institution.

Every thing there was hopelessly theoretic and disturbingly practical, thought he.

There happened an incident. He encountered a girl. He would say- “the most beautiful girl I ever met”. The basic instinct gave a jump and the writer inside his soul evoked.

He wanted to talk to her. But something in the atmosphere gave him a pinch and brought him back to reality, which seemed unbearably annoying. As a matter of fact, he never saw there, a boy or a girl speaking secretly behind the walls or under the trees as in a common campus atmosphere. Some of the people, who are impractically practical, loved each other; found time and space for each other; out side the campus. He knew the reason, as every other student there do-‘the morality keepers’, the students' union. Those have to face an even corporal punishment, who ever engages in the open-air romance. The reason they said for it seemed ridiculous to Jay. They said in a polytechnic college students who had just finished the tenth standard also come for studies, along with those after the higher secondary course, like Jay. So the impact of romance on those ‘kids’ would be different from that on the elders.

What a pity! Why had the institution named as a ‘college’? That was a new change from the authorities. He always longed to ask this question on the faces of those student’s union leaders and the principal and the head of the department. But he was afraid of them. He even feared to speak out the name of the organization that ruled the union there. All of them seemed despots. The union leaders, the principal, the head of the department- all of them seemed despots.

His mind, inexplicably longed for freedom, until he failed in all the three years, and joined B.A.English Language and Literature, in distance education, in the Kannur University.
His annoyance in the polytechnic college for three years has been evaded by writing. He wrote poems. Poems on love; on the beauty of the girl whom he met there; and on loneliness  Thus his deserted dreams started blooming. Those poems have never been able to win her heart but gave him the courage and confidence to go for his dreams—from the technical campus to the world of Literature.

In the years after the polytechnic course, he witnessed another type of educational institution, the 'Arts and Science Colleges'. They wanted rather money than talented students. He visited them when he searched for an admission in the B.A.English course.

He saw those campuses from the distance of a stranger, where he saw girls and boys full of camaraderie, romancing and dreaming. He would call them ‘fortunate’, as his thoughts ran back to the premises of his first ‘college’ campus, in the polytechnic college.

He had no recommendations for the regular college admission and no money either to fill the mouths of the greedy officials.
Image Courtesy: Google
“You know how difficult it is, now-a-days, for a person who had secured a just first class in his plus two exams, to get an admission in a regular college in merit seat.”- He would say, if you asked him-“ That’s why I decided to join B.A in distance education”.

There he found no campus rules to confine him, and no person who would prompt him to follow some hopeless theories but only freedom. He was free enough to consummate with his love.

He would say if you squinted at him
-“This universe is my university, nature is my teacher, and literature is my love.”
He was a pupa earlier, waiting for the wings to grow. Now he is a fly. Though knows, the wings will take him to his pyre, he will fly...He will gradually grow thousands and thousands of wings, like the pages of a book, with designs and colours similar to the words printed in the poems and novels he read.That is his journey and his destiny.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

The Prince

While the sickle moon takes the shape of smile,
I brought my lips close, and yours-
Smiling part eclipsed.
I brought a veil of stories to support
Your sleep, in the chilling plateau,
So that you can sleep a night of peace,
Little prince, I tell you this, just sleep.
Who you are, that matters not for me,
That you are born from a female
By a male, only matters, dear.
Sleep, son of peace less world, in my lap.
Don’t wait for your mother to pour
Milk from her adorning breasts and
Father’s caresses,
For they have gone, so far, from our world.
Hear, prince of Palestine,
You sleep; no vulture will wander near us,
For we are protected by
An endlessly high wall from the world,
In a world of lifeless serenity, and eternal peace!
Sleep dear little prince. I brought the stories,
Kissed your lips,
And now I request you to sleep.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

A bewailing writer.

Violence is the most uncivilized way of expressing our protest, I state.

Actually, I wanted to write an article about terrorism, that terrorism is a crime; it has many faces, unlike what Indian politicians’---“terrorism is a whole some of vice, and has nothing to do with religion. No religious person can be a terrorist and no terrorist belongs to any religion.”---Clich├ęs;That terrorism is linked to religions--What happened in Gujarat was Hindu terrorism, what is happening in Pakistan and Afghanistan is Islamic terrorism, what happened in centuries of Papal dominance in West was Christian terrorism;

That religion itself is developed as an oppressive device of the state and power structures,That ideologies are not all free from terrorist activities—what happened in West Bengal last year, was Marxist terrorism, and now in Palestine is Capitalist terrorism,That, as in criminology each and every criminal group has its own “style” in carrying out their operations, these terrorist ‘cults’ also have their own distinct ways in carrying out their operations-- as the attacks by Al-Quaida can be discriminated from the attacks by LTTE, terrorism also can be identified separately, in the name of the religions.

I wanted to write about all these things. But could not.

What hinders me is the plight of our own people. I feel pity for them, who resort to violence for their vested interests, for the interests of the community, and for politics. There are many ways to express your protest, other than violence, and assaults. But when the people of my country, my surroundings, my beloved ones themselves, act violence, how can I be eligible to write against terrorism!

Thursday, March 12, 2009

The Pact

Father signed the pact.
To dispatch, loads of coal.
The uncouth facts smiles
Like an inverted rainbow
With a sinister contract!
The concerns over repercussions, danced,
Like filthy waves of Ganga!
What would happen to the family?
Home might be confiscated,
He might have to become a slave.
The post-pact life, how unroll?
Unfamiliar with the future,
The father, burnt the hearth,
With the cooking pot empty!
He was relieved, thinking that
To impede his independence,
His wife had taken “I-pills”.
When asked, he said-
“I am happy, with my only son who-
Was killed in a bigotry place.
And I do not care for the future of
Me, my middle aged wife,
And my ‘half naked’,
Alzheimer’s patient, Grand Father.

The Indian Village and the Power Structures:A Scrutiny of "The White Tiger".

Image Courtesy: Google
Village appears in “The White Tiger” as a space for implementing the paraphernalia of power, by the power structures. Power, and rule, both as ideological and restrictive forms are acting upon the village. More prominent in it is of course the restrictive apparatus, not as police or judiciary but as the landlords and their laws. The ideological apparatus finds not as much prominence as the restrictive apparatus, as the protagonist, who being the measure for interaction between the reader and the village, questions the ideological apparatus and traditional shoulder-stoop philosophies, on the way of his existential saga. But he fails to win over the restrictive apparatus most of the times, during his times in the village and later.

The protagonist, Balram Halwai, moves from his village to town, in the process of his growth. Even though, toward the end, we can see him as a holder of power, we cannot find him coming back to his village or confronting any of those involved in the power transactions in the village. Also, the village memories leave him in a rather disturbing thought, about his parents’ and family’s security. From this we can understand that the village as the subject of power, still remains in the consciousness of Balram Halwai.

As I said early, it is through the protagonist’s vision, that we are being exposed to the village. Therefore, we can assume that Aravind Adiga, in his novel, “The White Tiger”, wants to convey that the village is the subject of an autonomous power structure. These autonomous power structures, the landlords, retain their power by the successful interactions with cultural, political, economic, and social environments.

The inability of the villager to fight back and to win his ends is often related to his innocence. The villagers in the novel are presented as innocent, passive bearers of the exertion of power. In other words, it is this obedience, to a neocolonial power, that bestows on them the title of being innocent. Here, innocence becomes an inclination, subordination, inability, and a silent obligation towards those who rule them, only because they are the ones being ruled. And thus it becomes a crime.

Balram has the persona of an enlightened man, who questions the power structures. Thus the character of Balram is made to identify as one out of the innocent folk. He is the one who makes his end win.

Still toward the end the novel, as mentioned early, the protagonist remains co-axial with the inability of breaking the influence of the power structures, like an ordinary villager. This can be perceived as a discourse where the neocolonial centers of power remain unchanged and the village becomes a neocolonial prototype of passive obedience.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Pak-China Bhai Bhai!

India accused Pakistan for its direct involvement in the Mumbai terror attacks, occurred a few months back. The government of India has declared its stand in the battle against terrorism and provided all the evidences needed for proving Pakistan’s sinister interests. Not only in the Mumbai attacks, but also in the Pakistan sponsored infiltration in Jammu and Kashmir, India has proven without any doubt the direct involvement of Pakistan.

Taking for granted the stand of the government of India, we can see that Pakistan’s political agenda, ever since its formation was the anti-India policy, which is nurtured by our not-so-friendly-neighbourhood, the country of China. We must not forget that they have shown their intentions quite clearly to India before.

Pakistan’s politics had tried to give the anti-Indian policy, with which they exerted influence and gained support from the Islamic population of the country, an ideological persona. Now it’s the turn to, modify that ideological apparatus into a system, with its own order, law, economy and power.

‘System’ is a highly scientific word. Whenever an ideology or a theory takes the form of a system, it will assume an identity. That identity is not that of the ideology, not that of the theory, not that of the social milieu, and not that of the people involved in it but that of its own. This identity might have relations with each of those components in the system, but the interaction of the system with the components will be one sided, that is, from the system to the component and not vice versa. The exertion of power includes itself as a major impetus in those interactions. Thus a system assumes the form of an autonomous entity, with an identity of its own, or we can put it as a self-reliant organism with multifarious one-sided interactive components.

This is what happening in Pakistan. For giving the ideological apparatus, the form and influence of a system, the Pakistani government has signed a pact with the Taliban, allowing them to establish their system of law and order in the Afghan boarder of Pakistan.

The recent attack on the Sri-Lankan cricket team in Pakistan is showing that the “system” has started “functioning”. As it is said, it will become out of control from the government’s hands and will start working of its own. It will cause serious threats to the peace loving parts of the world.

China would also suffer from Pakistan- even though they have supported them- from the legion of terror blooming in the Pak soil, just like how America has suffered from Taliban, on 9/11. As a matter of fact, USA had supported Taliban in order to vanquish the Russian power in the cold war, which is not a secret any more.

It is not the role that USA will play, raises the Indian concerns, but the role that China is going to add to the Pakistan-Taliban drama. We must not forget that during the Mumbai attacks, the explosives and guns seized from the terrorists were made in China. From this, one thing is very clear, that is, “even though the bullets were fired by Pakistan, it were made by China”!

For the Time Being...

My teachers, after reading my blog, asked me, or accused me, I am not sure, that why am I so diplomatic?

I beg your pardon if any of my teachers felt hurt after reading my blog. I never have any diplomacy or if I put it in this way-hypocrisy- toward you. I know that there is no need to be diplomatic with you, because you are so near to me, that it won’t take too long for you to understand me. I respect you. I care for you.

But still you are right. I am diplomatic. This diplomatic stand that I took is toward my perspective about the world.

I feel immense freedom in writing until the first rewriting of the script. After that I am not free. No one is free. The dangers are not far from us. They are near, very near. Especially, if you are one who is concerned about the socio- cultural environment, in which that one is living. Then definitely you are in trouble, for the danger is just a breath time away, looking for even a very singly step taken against it, to crush. Wondering in what nightmare you are? You are in Kerala,in India, God’s own country!

Now let me explain the cause for my diplomatic stand. The root cause is somewhat like a psychological exercise to mould my self, fit for enduring life, in this place. Just that and nothing else! For I can't stand with those who believe in despotism and blood shed. I can’t be with hatred. I can’t be with cruelty. I can’t be with the barbarians.

I want to be with truth, with love, with humanity. In a place where the former group has the rule and the later has the sufferance, I can’t be with both. This leads myself to be in the roads of diplomacy.

Because, in me, I have the courage to fight, power to support the poor and suffering and love to make myself available to all. I just want the right opportunity to begin. Otherwise, the barbarism is so strong that it can crush me like a fruit bee. Don’t you think, I am right?

If and only if I have the ground to stand, I can hold the ensign of truth, humanity and love. I am searching for that ground. I have ardent faith in God, not as an omnipotent but as a holding ground of truth and love.

Here I think it would be better to conclude that diplomacy itself is my stand for the time being and literature my weapon. I am sure that I can find my God, at the right time, and at the right place. For as I said, that ground, which I want to use to end my diplomacy about the existing social vices, is –God, my God. Thus will this piece of writing be a prophecy.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

When It Rings..

We rent our ears to some one near to us, and that too irrespective of gender, class, religious, political, social, and subjective differences. I am talking about mobile phones. Human beings are said to be social creatures. It is this natural instinct to form societies and to stay connected with every one, that lead them to be the subservient of information technology. Man created them to be their slave. Mobile phones are exquisite designs from the field of information technology. The numerous advantages that this creation of technology provides, is another reason for the obsession toward them.

Even though there are physiological problems identified which are related to the frequent use of mobile phone, the obsession of the world to this piece of technology seems never to end.

It intervenes not only the physiological complacency but psychological too. This psychological aspect of the results of mobile phone excess-usage is generally undermined. It is possible that our calm evenings may be disturbed by a ring or vibration from the mobile phone. It takes only a ring of the phone to miss the one precious line of words, which you have collected to write, sometimes for your project or for some one really special for you. It can also be the same with our thoughts. An interruption, just think, how irritating would it is?

That means, this small ‘great piece’ of technology becomes an intervening component from our nearest surroundings, into our conscious mind. Our generation is so conditioned that it has its thoughts, expressions and life to be on the pity of such external influences. To give away technology or to keep off one self from it, becomes one of the tasks, nearly impossible. The very identity of the individual, in postmodern literary criticism, as a socio- cultural creation, becomes asserted here. That means; the thoughts, expressions, actions etc. are deeply influenced by mobile phones. Thus it becomes a part of the subjectivity of the human being.

In a postcolonial context, it makes the individual to bear the stigma of a colonised identity. That is the individual becomes addicted to the mobile phone usage, which is similar to the aspects of a colonized. A version of neo-colonialism! The individual how can be said as free when he wants to spend a considerable part of his income for this, and gets back restrictions and inconveniences of various sorts.

The diversified aspects of the socio-cultural influences of this communication device need thorough examination. As stated before, in a country like India, it evokes postcolonial concerns also. It can be identified as the prototype of…(Sorry, my mobile has rung. I lost my thought.)