Palakkal Saga: Happy New Year

Genre: Fiction, with Label: Palakkal Saga

Palakkal woke up. He had the satisfaction that, being the Happy New Year on that day, he was able to wake up in the morning itself, as the time at that moment was only fifty-nine minutes and a few seconds past eleven. First few minutes he spent analyzing the problem of whether there is a need to take bath that day or not. After considering various factors and doctrines, he concluded that it was not even remotely necessary. Yet, being a virtuous man, he washed the phallus in purified water. It is an imperative that a man washes the phallus after sex even if it was a sacred and legible one. Palakkal is a man of knowledge and scriptures, and followed every dictum adamantly.

       Drinking up the little toddy left in the bottom of the can, he opened a pack, wrapped in banana leaves, kept in the kitchen. It contained the fresh heart of the lion that Palakkal murdered the night before for roaring loudly just when Palakkal was about to come and feel an orgasmic climax. Cleaning the remnants of the blood, again in purified water, Palakkal dressed it in chilly and masala and salt. He fried it deep in one cup of heated cow-ghee, then sat on the floor and started to eat. Exactly at that moment, there was a knock on the door that would open the house towards the paddy field. Palakkal got wildly angry for being disturbed during his lunch.

"Whoever that be, she just knocked the door of the hell," whispered Palakkal to himself as he got up.

Palakkal opened the door and, seeing the guest, became calm at once. It was the Lord from the nearby temple. Unless there is some very serious reason, it does not befit Palakkal to torture the oppressed and downtrodden in the society. He invited the Lord inside and gave him an old wooden chair to sit.

The Lord sat with his trunk straight, erect like a mountain. Divine calmness and serenity played on his face.

"My Lord, what made you get out of your divine abode and come to my stinking home?"

Lord smiled silently. A divine smile. When he smiled, the room filled with a divine light. Palakkal  moved two steps backwards. He knew that even he could be corrupted by the divinity of the Lord. But the Lord himself took no notice of Palakkal's reaction. He said in a Dassettanian voice,

"My son, apologies for bothering you and disturbing your lunch. I came here just to relax and spend some time in the quietness of your home. All the ass holes on the earth have swarmed in my abode since early morning. Being the Happy New Year of the year, they all want to see me and demand their blessings."

Hearing this, Palakkal started laughing like a dinosaur. Lord looked at Palakkal with interest and continued to smile. After Palakkal's laugh came to a halt, the Lord asked him,

"What do you have to offer me to eat?"

"I have a half-eaten deep-fried heart of a lion. It is good and tasty."

"Anything to drink?"

"Just finished the last drop of heavenly liquid before you came."

"OK, never mind."

The Lord wanted to sleep for a while. Palakkal showed him his bed and mattress. While the Lord was sleeping, Palakkal devoured the rest of the lion's heart. Satisfied, he went out with his toddy can. One mile apart, there was a small forest. He went inside and stood before a giant tree. A monkey was sitting silently on the lower branch of the tree, looking down. When it saw Palakkal approaching, the monkey started shivering with fear. Palakkal showed him the can. The monkey came down at once reverently and took the can with it. It climbed a coconut tree nearby and came down after a few minutes. The can was filled with fresh toddy now.

Walking back home, Palakkal thus reflected, "I don't know why that monkey always fears me like an elephant fears an ant! I will never understand some of the mysteries on this earth." As he walked, a giant elephant indeed came opposite to him. Seeing Palakkal, it bowed down deeply and moved away from the road with all humility to make way for Palakkal.

Upon reaching home, Palakkal gave one peg of toddy to the Lord. The Lord was happy and rested. Sipping from the cup, he asked Palakkal,

"So, what are your Happy New Year resolutions, son?"

Palakkal suddenly stood in attention and said in a solemn voice, as if he was reciting something sacred,

"Number one: I will not pay a penny for sex this year. Number two: I will not rape any minors, but only majors. Number three: I will not be cruel to the women I rape by leaving them to live, but kill them kindly at once. Number four: I will not treat any woman as a woman, but behave like a fetish feminist. Number five: I will not kill anyone by holding the feet and hitting the head on the ground; I will use more decent methods. Number six: In case I kill any animal, I will eat at least a portion of it. Number seven: I will not forcefully kick the earth while angry and thus will not cause the earth from moving away from its orbit. Number eight," Palakkal continued with a dubious smile on his lips, "I will not kick any Lord's butt this year."

        The Lord gave Palakkal one gold Ring and said, "Son, accept my gift for having such an extraordinary list of Happy New Year resolutions. And now, allow me to leave for my home."

        "Thank you, my Lord of the Ring," Palakkal said in gratitude while also trying to recollect the previous day's price of the gold.

During the evening walk, Palakkal passed near the temple and saw the endless queue of "ass holes on the earth" who had come to see the Lord. But those who came in cars did not have to stand in the queue. Lord's manifesto written by Lord-only-knows-which-ass-hole permitted them to enter directly. An old lady beggar accosted Palakkal and asked for the alms. He took pity and opened the polythene bag he was carrying. He took a dead black cat from it, chopped of the head with his dagger and gave that to her. The eyes of the dead animal were open and staring at the people around.

"Oh dear old lady! The brain is the best part of a cat. With love from the bottom of my heart, I present the best part of my dinner to you. Please accept my kindness with gratitude."

Horrified, the lady ran away. Dejected, Palakkal put the deformed cat inside his cover and continued his evening stroll.

The End.

Pratibha's Voice [Experimental]

Genre: Fiction

I am nothing, a nobody. Now, I am a voice inside someones head. To be at least a voice in someones head -- that is one of the best blessings of my existence.

I was born when I was twenty-one years old. It was the fateful day that my best friend's father forced me into his bedroom, when there was nobody at his house, and pressed me on the bed under his body. I was scared. That was the first in my life in such a magnitude. I cried and cried, and begged him for my honour. He did not heed, but pressed me onto the bed with more force. I put a staunch fight against him, using all my strength. In a few minutes, as I was losing my cloths one-by-one, I recognised how weak I was. My eyes were filled with darkness and I saw no chance for escape. But I could strongly feel the dark, deep abyss into which I was falling eternally.

There was a moment. I became temporarily free. Just to take a breath. I saw him removing his undergarments and embracing fully nudity. And below his belly, I saw his meat, fully erect and ready for the torture. Yet, it was rather silly. A tiny, weak shaft in all its ugliness around it!

Ironically, I could not help laughing! I don't know how I got the strength. In all my sincerity, I laughed!

“Is this all what you got? Is it with this that you are going to do what you are going to do?” I asked  him being unable to suppress my laughter.

His face became red. He was being overpowered by his anger. His weapon, too. Suddenly, it was diminished to nothing. All its might that it tried to assume a moment before was lost at once in the void of its purposelessness. The man was ashamed. Anger and shame belittled him to nothing. After all, to be aggressive is the sign of the weak. He slapped me on my face. Twice. But that could not deter me from laughing. His courage seemed to have drowned in the heavy tide of my laughter. I spat on his face. Vehemently. He grabbed my long black hair and pulled me out of his bedroom.

“Get out of here, bitch!” He shouted at me.

He was a coward. He dared not to kick me out of his house in my full nakedness. He went back to the room and rushed back at once with my dresses. As soon as I was able to slip inside my attire, he pushed me out.

I went back home with a mind that was torn inside out. 

It was the day I realised my identity in the world. It was the day I understood who I was. 

It was the day I was born into this world.

To be continued.........

Catch Me if You Dare!

The subtle difference between the symbolic and the semiotic leads to the  major difference between James Joyce and Umberto Eco. 

On the other hand, the greater difference between the abstract and the concrete doesn't explain the lesser difference between James Joyce and James Bond. 

Timothy Dalton is my favourite Bond, and I loved him in Living Daylights. 

That was a time when I wondered if Roger Moore and Roger Penrose weren't somehow connected. I felt very much at ease when I learnt about the Moore-Penrose inverse. 

You know? It is a smaller world than your senses perceive. Everything and everyone is connected here and the connections span beyond Facebook. They  began even before I revealed my name as "Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh" to him who knelt before me, but, who, alas, mistook me for a burning tree!

That's for now. But mind you! It is not the end. You'll never see the end, you immortals!

Think beyond! Dream high! Live dangerously!

Ad hominum salutem!

Palakkal Saga: The Very Beginning

I'm going to narrate you some story, or perhaps some stories. But I warn you that they are not mere stories but actual events, which humans in flesh and blood had created with their own lives. It is the real history. Before reading these stories, ask yourself if you can take it. Ask yourself how bold and courageous you are! For these stories are only for the strong and the privileged!

This is the saga of Palakkal. This is how it all begins. This is how the history begins.

Palakkal's saga consists of stories of life and the tyrannies of life. Many of those stories took place in a small piece of land in a corner of the earth, which faced all the remotest galaxies. Northern part of that land was full of saffron-coloured desert. If one travels southwards, one has to pass through the white-snowy mountains. Thus one pass from the desert with no water to the snowy mountains that produced all the water on earth. That may sound paradoxical to some. But to see through the paradox, one must travel even southwards only to see the lush green forest, which was inhabited by a lot of mysterious animals and humans. "Saffron-white-green." That was the colour of the land. Below the green forest, one can see the boundless, deep blue sea, which in turn was inhabited by those beautiful fishes and mermaids. That land was blessed by the gods, where people lived lazy lives in pleasure.

Thousands of years ago, Palakkal was born in a small village of the green land, which was adjacent to the forest, surrounded by the sea on one side and a series of small hills on the other side. At the time of Palakkal's birth, his father, a man of courage and will power, was fishing in the river. A sudden stream of flood came from the mountains and took him with it to the sea. He never came back. That was the first liberation in Palakkals life though he did not realised its significance: liberation from the tyranny of order and obedience. His mother raised him affectionately. She was a woman of strong character. At the age of ten, his mother died of malaria. Her horrible death shattered Palakkal deeply. Yet, he did not know that he was liberated again, this time from the tyranny of self-less love.

Orphaned and helpless, Palakkal was taken by a rich farmer, who lived nearby. He was put to work in the fields with the farmer's workers. He was only a small boy yet he was given a man's work. Before the sunrise he started his work and till late night he had to work, stopping only for his meagre lunch. Suffering badly for a while, Palakkal learnt how to withstand the hardship. During his work, he ate fruits from the forest and drank milk from the cow. Other than work and eating, he had nothing else to think of. No time for anything else either. He received no kindness and no love. Only tinge of kind words he received was from the farmer's ugly looking, dark-coloured, fat wife. She treated him with kindness and gave him good food whenever he was happened to be called for some household work in the farmer's house. Such occasions were but rare. Thus, rare were the occasions Palakkal ate something that humans would normally eat. From the farmer's wife, Palakkal learnt that external appearances meant nothing and black often conceals white, and ugliness, beauty!

Years went by very fast. Palakkal was gradually growing towards adulthood. One afternoon he was working at the mangroves when the farmer came that way. The farmer never used to tell Palakkal anything directly other than giving some orders. For him, Palakkal never existed as a human being. However, that afternoon, upon seeing Palakkal, the farmer stopped and looked at him carefully. He ordered Palakkal to bring water from the river to his rest house in the forest. Palakkal went with water and the doors closed behind him. In the darkness inside that hut, with hands and feet tied, Palakkal experienced the pain and pleasure of the sodom. The poor soul of Palakkal cried and cried, but receiving no help. That day, Palakkal learnt the tyranny of the phallus. Many such afternoons were repeated for Palakkal with his hands and feet tied and the sodom at work, and always he sobbed and sobbed. Nothing particular happened to the world around him. Everything flowed forward normally and peacefully. Only Palakkal's boyish mind was in utmost agony.

On a calm evening, Palakkal was given some household work in the farmer's house. He was involved in his own work with a weeping but attentive mind when he was called by the farmer's wife to the kitchen. As usual, she gave him food and hot coffee. Palakkal was eating his food, sitting on the floor, when the farmer rushed into the kitchen. Seeing Palakkal, eating food in his kitchen, the farmer got enraged. He kicked Palakkal out of the house and started beating his wife. Palakkal heard the farmer's wife crying aloud. The farmer was shouting loudly too. Palakkal knew this was normal. He had seen and experienced what the farmer would become when he is violent. He shuddered with fear at the thought of how the farmer would punish him later for his mistake. He thought of running away, though he knew that the farmer would chase after him and catch him finally. But the woman's heartbreaking cry could not be neglected. It wounded Palakkal's innermost self. A sudden fire in the nerves awakened Palakkal. He stopped thinking and ran into the house. The woman was lying on the floor and the man was kicking on her abdomen. Palakkal saw an axe leaning on the wall. The axe rose and lowered once. The headless farmer fell down on the floor like a tree. That was the end of the tyranny of the phallus! That is to say, Palakkal's liberation from the tyranny of the phallus.

The farmer was long gone. Palakkal replaced the farmer. He lived with the farmer's wife. They became man and woman. Fat and ugly may she be, yet she was a woman, and she made him a man! The tyranny of sodom was forgotten. The tyranny of the phallus was forgotten. Palakkal now learnt the pain and pleasure of the phallus... and that of the vagina. He loved her. He loved the farmer's children, a boy and girl, as his own. Life seemed settled and peaceful. But fate had it otherwise. A plague broke out in that place killing a lot of unworthy souls. The farmer's wife, and children, were not spared indeed. Putting fire on their bodies, Palakkal did not cry. This time he felt his liberation. Liberation from the tyranny of a woman's love. A woman's erotic love. And his own love and lust for her!

Liberated from the order of life, self-less love, and tyrannies of passion, that of phallus and vagina, Palakkal thus gained the ultimate mental and physical freedom. He was free to choose his own life now, free to go anywhere and free to die also if he so desired, without asking or thinking for someone or something. Sitting under a tree Palakkal asked himself what was next! Having known the pains and pleasures of life and lust, he decided to go away. He did not know where, but away... away from life, lust, pains, pleasures, and tyranny. He realised then that he had to go away from humans! He realised that he had to cease to be human. "I am not human, I am a monster" [1], he thought. He rose to his feet and entered the dark forest, alone, with no fear and with almost no aim.

Maybe continued....

[1] Slavoj Zizek

Palakkal Saga: Liberal 'n' Liberated

Not long ago, Palakkal went for a party, in a very remote galaxy called the Post Modern. The Post Modern was like a dream world. Full of lights and shining. Full of comforts. There the People were full of happiness and always wore a smile on their faces! They all wore glittering dresses, making Palakkal look strange and mean among them. Palakkal was the only one there from the poor, old Ancient Earth. Palakkal's ancient manners made people jerk with horror. Palakkal was aware of this but did not care at all.

As Palakkal was walking among that majestic crowd, he saw a young woman shining in a corner like diamond among others. All the bystanders were looking at her, admiring her beauty and listening eagerly what she was saying. Palakkal stopped, for beauty always attracts the beast. With all Palakkal's ancient wisdom and knowledge, he tried to understand what she was saying. At one point Palakkal wondered, "Are there things yet that I cannot understand in this universe?" For Palakkal could not decipher a single thing she said. In her loud and seductive voice she kept speaking and speaking, and the crowd stayed and stayed there, looking and looking at her. Perhaps they were only looking, not listening, not understanding. Palakkal's heart smiled. He took a deep breath and turned away from the lady. But exactly at that moment, with an air of utmost confidence she declared,

"You know, I'm liberal and liberated!"

"Liberal? Towards what?... Liberated?" Palakkal asked himself, "From what?"

"Liberal and liberated"... "Liberal and liberated"... "Liberal and liberated"... "Liberal and liberated"... "Liberal and liberated"... "Liberal and liberated"... "Liberal and liberated"... "Liberal and liberated"... "Liberal and liberated"... So Palakkal chanted.

Later, Palakkal left the Post Modern and rushed towards the Ancient Earth. On the way he slept at irregular interwells. In sleep he thought he was wakeful and in wakefulness he thought he was sleeping. Such grave delirium is common for Palakkal. It is almost a genitical fault. As most of the times, but not as most of the other times, his mind suddenly became still and empty. In such moments Palakkal can sense only his heart beating... nothing else, not even his breath. From the middle of his temple, a clear judgement suddenly arose, without his own will,

"Yes, that young lady is liberated. She can be so. She is born into wealth. She lives in wealth. She will die in wealth. She is liberated from the poor souls who still live in the Ancient Earth outside the borderes of the Post Modern, but who are never able to enter into her world, never even aware of it. She has successfully raised above that ugly, motley crowd, by keeping them away from her, from her sight, even from her unconscious self. Yes, she is liberated from the Ancient Earth to the Post Modern. And so can she be liberal to others who, like her, are liberated from the dwellers of the Ancient Earth. She is thus the Liberal and Liberated!"

Palakkal woke up from his delirium. He became the two-legged animal that he normally is. Once again that arrogant smile came into his face. Reaching the Earth he saw a giant elephant running amok, ruining the forest. With one hand he caught the neck of the elephant; raising it above the head, Palakkal killed the elephant by hitting it once on the ground. Eating the elephant for the dinner, Palakkal went to bed with a peaceful mind.

Palakkal Saga: Meeting with Lonely Wanderer

Yesterday, I was sitting in the lab, looking at the computer monitor, feeling all my frustrations in life. Since it was evening, all my colleages had left, and I was alone. I thought of learning some modern useages in Malayalam. So, I opened youtube and started listening to Idea Star Singer videos, where a lady having a sack full of Ph.D.s taught what I described earlier. While I was taking some important notes from the videos, I heard someone opening the door. Immeidately I paused the video. Everyone thinks I am a devoted researcher. I did not want others know that I used to watch youtube in the lab. What do they know about the nobility of my intentions? That of earning more advanced knowledge in ones own mother tongue?

I looked at the door and found... who? Mr. Palakkal himself! He looked at me with anger and asked, "So, you are The Lonely Wanderer Sandeep Palakkal?"

I was frozen for a moment hearing the strength of that voice. Recovering from the shock, I admitted that I was that wreatched soul and what was sitting frozen there was my worldly body.

A short moment! Palakkal accosted me in rage, with lightning speed. I lost all my courage and self-esteem at that moment. I even pissed a little in my underwear.

"How dare you defame me by writing things about me in your pitiful blog, you dirty punk?," he asked grabbing my collars. "And, your writings? How preposterous, you big-mouth-and-tiny-brain?"

So, that was the reason of his visit: to question me, to stop me. Come on, Sandeep, don't be afraid. You have the freedom of speech in this country.

I said I was trying to convey some idea through my stories. It was just a story and I did not mean to defame him. I was so scared that I spoke too much which I cannot recollect now.

"If you wanted to convey some stupid idea, then why tell lies?" he asked angrily.

I boldly replied, "Art is a lie that make us realize truth [1]. And my art was literature."

Palakkal laughed out loudly. "You call your stupid writings literature? You call that Art?" he asked me with a poking look in his eyes. I saw his despise for me in his eyes. I felt insulted but was scared to respond.

"I warn you. Stop writing blogs by today and withdraw all your writings. Otherwise, I will hold you by your feet and kill you by hitting your head on this wall."

Intimidation! That too, towards a world famous blogger, a leftist, an atheist, and above all a signal processing engineer! This cannot be tolerated. He does not know that I am a Captain of the Devils in the International Legion of Signal Processing Devils! My friends, I conjured up all my energy and said, "NO. IMPOSSIBLE. YOU DO WHAT YOU CAN." (I put these words in capital to let my readers know how loudly I uttered them and how much force I exerted myself.)

The Palakkal looked at me, straight into my eyes. I sensed a glimpse of shining in his eyes. He released my collar and began to walk away, saying "so be it".

Why did he release me? Why did he not kill me? I was wondering. I felt neglected. Perhaps, Palakkal thought I was so weak to handle and so insignificant to waste his time upon. Once again, I felt insulted very deeply. I felt a wound on my heart and blood coming out of it. I quickly crossed Mr. Palakkal and stood in his way, challenging him. "Why the hell don't you do anything? Daren't you kill me? You filthy Palakkal. Do you know, only I can make you a hero. You should be happy for that."

I saw rage in Palakkal's eyes. They became blood red. I knew he was going to attack me. He who attack first is the winner [2]. So, I gave him a punch on his face. He came forward, pulled my head and kept it under his left shoulder. Then I felt his left knee on my solar plexus, hiting me just once but with tremendous force. When he released my head, I fell down like a tree on the floor. I was unconscious. Yet I could hear Palakkal's footsteps, leaving me alone in the room. I  heard him feebly,

"Poor fella! He did not know who he was fucking with" [3].

[1] Pablo Picasso.
[2] Anonymous
[3] Riddick, Pitch Black

Palakkal Saga: Wrong

Diarrhoea was cured by nature. Palakkal only drunk porridge made out of rice, by adding more salt than necessary in it. After four days on the bed, he not only felt cured. He felt he was replete with more fresher energy. He felt his inner potential increased by many folds. That is Palakkal's greatest joy on earth: to feel the inner strength.

That evening, Palakkal decided to go out, to feel the sun, though an evening sun with less vigour. The darkness of the room had started to become nauseating. Again, he went to the garden. Gardens are his favourites. Sitting surrounded by trees gave him enough opportunities to feel his solitude. Solitude, not loneliness, for Palakkal was always lonely, even if he walked with an ocean of people. And the ocean always tried to expel him, because it felt that he did not belong there.

When Palakkal reached the garden, there a great saint was giving lecture to his disciples. Palakkal went and sat in a corner, farthest from the saint and the disciples to avoid contamination as much as possible. He lay on the grass with his face up. As he took breath, he felt his youthfulness and inner strength. This may be what they call the joy of existence! Palakkal grew sceptic if one could feel the same joy as one grows older and older. Do old people feel inner strength? Potential?

The sky was blue and clouds were bright white. He saw an eagle flying in great heights. It looked too small -- more like a point than an eagle. He felt his heart pounding with unknown joy; butterflies fluttering inside his belly; and tickling on his soles. That was a rarest of rarest, serenest of serenest, beautifullest of beautifullest moments. He was ready to die at that very moment. But death was still a distant friend, for he was full of vigour of youth.

When the dusk had already fallen, when the disciples had all left, the saint came near Palakkal, and assuming his full composure he said,

"Palakkal, your acts are wrong and cruel. Especially what you have done in the hospital! You are too terrible a human being, with too sick a mind. All your actions are wrong, wrong and wrong."

Palakkal rose from the ground. After giving a big yawn, he said,

"He who considers more deeply knows that, whatever his acts and judgements may be, he is always wrong [1]."

Then he started walking, leaving the saint alone.

Belittled by Palakkal's wisdom, the saint stood there ashamed. He wondered when he would become as wise as Palakkal! Then, maybe to soon become so, he decided to control his breath and meditate in the garden till midnight.

[1] F. Nietzsche, Human all too human.

Palakkal Saga: Diarrhoea

Palakkal got diarrhoea. What? How is that possible? How can a person with immeasurable power get sick? No questions allowed in Palakkal Saga. For it consists of the stories of tyrannies. For tyranny does not like to be questioned.

It was early morning. Palakkal was waiting for the sun to emerge in the east so that he can rush to the doctor. Yes, he rushed. He ran to the doctor hitting everyone came across his way. Whether that morning had birds singing, he did not care! He rushed. For he had no time. From his house, where there were two toilets, he had to reach the hospital, where there will possibly be a toilet. On the way, he may not find a public toilet at all. 'I am in India,' he remembered.

As soon as he reached the hospital, first he finished off what was now imminent. After returning from the toilet, he went right to the reception and informed the nurse that he immediately wanted to meet the doctor.

The nurse gave him a disdainful look and said in an inattentive voice, "you have to wait till the receptionist come and enrol your name in the register".

"Sorry sister, I cannot wait. It is urgent."

"You should wait," nurse said rudely.

"I said I am in emergency, sister."

"So what? What should I do? Emergency? You're not dying, are you? Only if I can confirm that you are going to die soon, I will call it an emergency." She shouted at him.

So the nurse does not appreciate the situation. All she cares about is the rules of the institution. Palakkal got immensely angry. In his inner mind he thought, 'We Indians!'

The true self of Palakkal arose. His eyes became blood red. Straightaway, he strutted towards the doctor's room. When the nurse tried to stop him, he took her in one hand and pasted her spread-eagled on the ceiling. Stuck on the ceiling, she helplessly looked at Palakkal walking towards the doctor's room.

Palakkal reached the doctor's room, and with one kick he broke the door into seventy-eight and a half pieces. The doctor raised her eyes from a thick book she was studying and gave him a dead look. Palakkal was unsurprised by the doctor's stoicism. He knew where he was.

The doctor listened to him patiently. Asked some questions which Palakkal thought pointless but to which he gave clear answers like a school boy. Satisfied, the doctor scribbled the names of four tablets on a piece of tissue paper and gave it to Palakkal. The doctor knew nothing of Palakkal. (പാലക്കലാരാ മോന്‍?) He asked what was the first medicine for. She said it was just vitamin tablets. The second one? Some ointment to apply on his belly. Third one? For digestion. And the fourth one for fever, which he should take if he has. Palakkal got frustrated. He asked, "Where the hell is the medicine for diarrhoea, my condition?"

The doctor grew confused. She looked at what she had written. "Where the hell is the medicine?" She asked, perhaps to herself. The doctor scratched the back of her head. One shelf-full of degree certificates she had kept at her home seemed meaningless for her at that moment. She took a small piece of dandruff from her hair and ate it. 

Suddenly, her eyes started to glow. She wrote one more line on the paper and gave it to Palakkal.

"Here it is," she said proudly.

"What is this fifth tablet for?" Palakkal asked.

"Take it. Everything will stop. You will not go to toilet for seven days!" She said showing her wisdom.

Palakkal got exasperated. He realized he had come there in vain. He grabbed her by feet and killed her at once by breaking her head on the table. Then he ran into the toilet to fulfil the ancient urge, which now was imminent.

Palakkal Saga: Conversion of a lady with single mind

The garden was beautiful. Unlike India, it was full of trees and birds. Palakkal had come for a morning walk. The sun had only risen. Feeling the freshness of the morning breeze, he walked. On the stone chair, there sat a woman, still, shining with divine inspiration and energy, though she looked absorbed and weak.

"What makes you so happy this morning?" Palakkal asked.

Waking from her dream, she replied with pleasure, "All my life, I am devoted to my selfless work. My only pleasure is to do my work. My work is my devotion and its fruits are my happiness. Today, I am happy about how single-minded I am in pursuing my passion!."

Palakkal grabbed her by her hands and forced her to the woods. Pressing her to the ground, he raped her.

As he was leaving, he said, "Be known, you lady, that your devotion to your passion is not everything. It is only a narrow fetishism that you keep to justify your unworthy existence. Sexual pleasure I have just given you is one example that there are more things in heaven and earth [1] that humans can crave for. So open your eyes and walk your life with liveliness".

Raising from the ground, she replied in gratitude, "Thanks for enlightening me with your wisdom, master. I've never known the meaning of life as broadly as I know now!"

Smiling and blessing her, Palakkal walked away, to continue feeling the freshness of the morning.

[1] W. Shakespear, Hamlet.

Siddharthan the Atheist

Siddharthan the Atheist

A Story by

Sandeep Palakkal

A quiet evening. Siddharthan asked Reshma, who was getting ready to go somewhere, "Where are you going?"

"To the temple. Why, are you coming?", she replied with a question.

"As a matter of fact... no! I am an atheist", he said triumphantly, wearing a plain grin on his face.

"Lucky", she retorted immediately.

"Lucky?" he asked, trying hard not to betray his surprise on his face.

"Yes, God is lucky", she replied promptly and went out at once.

The Undiscovered -- Or the Long Forgotten

The Undiscovered -- Or the Long Forgotten

A Story by

Sandeep Palakkal

Once upon a time, or rather, some years back, there lived a young man in the middle of a big city in India. In those days, in the depth of his heart, he used to feel that he was one of those educated young men who were, perhaps, doomed to live in a rather congested, dirty Indian metro, far away from home and where some alien language was spoken in the everyday life. Of course, his bulk five figure salary helped him lead an easy life in a nice apartment, with all comforts which almost all of his nighbours could not even dream of! He lived in a fully furnished apartment, in the corner of a street, which otherwise was as good as a slum. Perhaps, he was bored of everything outside and, most of all, of his own life. I don’t know; I can’t judge him anymore.

For the past four years, he had been living there, and had developed some damn, monotonous routine. Routines are good, you know? They say, it helped people like Einstein to concentrate on their work; perhaps, they are correct. But his routine only made him more of a damn fool. There was nothing interesting to think of in life, other than the usual daily cool stuff. But only until a day something had happened in his life. Something apparently trifling, but which changed something in him. Which caused his mind to be active again.

Well, it was a hot morning, as usual in that part of the earth. And he was on his way to office, on one of his new bikes -- he owned three bikes and one car at the time, for that matter. And, as usual in every morning, he bumped into the same old coffee shop for breakfast. He had not made this shop his permanent place for breakfast because it had very good ambience, or because the people over there behaved well, or because he had just developed some kind of affection with the place and the people who worked there. It was simply because it was almost the only shop which provided some hygienic food, though they charged him more than necessary. After all, this was the case with every shop in a metro! As the usual confusion of what to eat -- dosa or idly or puri with masala -- started threatening the stability of his mind, he noticed a startling new face on the other side of the bill counter, where usually an old boorish fellow used to sit. Perhaps, he had been too much conditioned and adjusted to his life, his mind could not take this change quite immediately. He was confused while making his order, almost forgot to get his balance back, and was so embarrassed to talk to her, the owner of this new face. While he was eating, he knew something had changed in him. Only, he could not explain it in words -- he just could not explain.

His confusion stayed only for one day, and second day onwards, he started observing her, in fact, without his own knowledge. Somehow, she aroused a lot of enthusiasm in him. Enthusiasm -- maybe, the sign of a healthy mind. She was just twenty-two or twenty-three years old, yet not very attractive, and had nothing in common with those girls who were working with him in the office, who his friends and, as he would admit not without some doubt, he, found very sexy, and who, he and his friends thought, made their life in the office exotic. On the contrary, she was less attractive, or perhaps, completely unattractive; his friends might even say ugly? She used to wear some old fashioned churidar, a pair of black coloured earrings, a pair of plastic bangle of some dark color, one on her each arm, and a pair of thin slippers; she showed no taste of fashion whatsoever in her dressing or appearance, and if she still had some sense of fashion, it was from some ancient times and bland; and it seemed to him that she never bothered to say something or make a point about her personality through her appearance. Besides, she was so thin and fragile that she would evoke pity in anyone who looked at her.

Yet, since the beginning, he felt there was something in her, which lay beyond her outward appearance. Was it the liveliness she was able to render into her otherwise silly gestures? Was it those simple and naive expressions that she continuously bore in her face? Or, was it the calm composure she always possessed in all her movements? He could never tell. But I am convinced that for him it was a joy watching her, without her knowledge, sitting in a corner of the shop, with a hot cup of coffee on his table. Sitting like that he used to feel that he was a child again, life was again worth living, and happiness was nothing remote or nonexistent. What is the meaning of life, dear friend? Or, rather, what was life worth living for? If not for the simple happiness one feels for no reason! That simple happiness one feels when waking up to a warm, sunny morning, with songs of the birds in the background! The same happiness one feels after taking a short walk through some old country side! Happiness one feels when watching the sun falling slowly into the sea! Where had it gone? When had it disappeared from his life? Why had he not known? Perhaps, it was the same simple happiness that her presence had aroused in him. I could never tell till lately.

I had chanced to meet him on one of my long train journeys a few years ago, as he happened to be seated opposite to me. He looked like a very happy man, looking enthusiastically through the window, as though he could not miss any scene outside. At some point of time, somehow, we started talking, and it was then that he told me this story of his life. He told his story with such intense passion and poise that even I felt very elated. From his long conversation, I was convinced that what he felt towards that young girl was not the least stained by those carnal desire a man would feel towards a girl. Rather, he was just inspired by her presence. I remember asking myself the question: Can mere appearance of a simple girl cause so much of change in one person? I never believed him, but only until lately.

As years move forward, we forget even our own happy memories, and so had I long forgotten that chap and his story. But to my surprise, and for no apparent reason that I could think of, his story came back into my mind, not when I was awake, but during my sleep as a revealing dream. Perhaps, it was the early hours of the morning, and I was still sleeping under my blanket, when I started dreaming of an unknown land. I am sure that I had never been there before in my life. I saw myself walking on a deserted road, looking for something. Finally, I could find a lonely coffee shop, which, I felt, had long been waiting for me. I entered into it with some strange feelings, hoping to have a cup of coffee, and I saw at once a thin, dark skinned girl sitting across a table, wearing a green churidar. Somehow, it occurred to me that I must get the bill first from her, and walked straight towards her. I was aware that there was no one else in the shop, and I kept wondering what kind of a place it was. First, I asked her what time it was. She did not understand. She was confused, and rather, was scared -- I could read it in her face. Her face reflected her mind so transparently that it glowed with momentary confusion and doubt. I had never seen such a glowing face before in my life, and it was refreshingly new and beautiful. I woke up at this moment in my bed, and the last word was stuck deep in my mind. I deliriously repeated the word many times before I was fully awake and became conscious of myself

“Beautiful! Beautiful! Beautiful!”

Alas! The fellow I met in the train was wondering what had attracted him to that unattractive girl. But I know the answer. I know the answer. It was her beauty! Her beauty!

I do not know where that chap lives. I do not know his address. But if he reads this piece of work that I have written for him, let him know this.

It is beauty, my friend, which lies beyond attractiveness, which is the source of simple happiness in life. And while attractiveness is open for any fool to see, beauty has to be discovered!

Sandeep Palakkal,

Chennai,

Aug 11, 2011.

Eternal Journey of Love: A story

Eternal Journey of Love

Sandeep Palakkal

The old man was reading in his study since morning. In fact, he had been reading for years, every day of his life. In the past he used to find time to read even during his busy work schedule. But now that he had been retired for years and he had nothing else to do, he was free to choose his favourite activity day and night. 

It was midday when his wife, an old woman herself, came and sat near him. She gazed at him with a face gleaming with joy from the thought how delightfully immersed was the old man in his reading. She always loved watching him this way. As though sensed her gaze and thoughts, the old man raised his eyelids around which there were thin white hairs, and looked at his wife, smiling. The wife read the title of the book – Love in the Time of Cholera. She exclaimed how many times she had seen him reading the same book again and again. He replied that he was always tormented by Marquez's this tale of love – a love that began quite innocently, unknowingly, and then waited for long years, from one century to the next, for its fulfilment. Like the love of Florentino Ariza for Fermina Daza, the entire novel had been disturbing him like a flame in his heart ever since he first read the book, he said. As Forentino and Fermina were on an eternal journey up and down the stream in the wild Magdalena river that passed through the Carribbean, the old man wanted to read the novel again and again, eternally. The woman saw the old man's eyes shining with joy as he spoke of the novel. There was another book, lying on the table, which she remembered buying a week ago, on an evening, when they went to the town. It was a recently published book, which the old man showed her as a masterpiece of a writer who won the Nobel prize last year. He wanted to start reading it immediately after finishing the present book. During the last one week, the woman had seen him many times taking that book, reading the reviews on the back, skimming through the pages, and smelling the leaves. And she knew how passionate he was about books and reading. She loved his passion, though she used to tease him that he was crazy.
 

“It is lunch time, and everything is ready,” she pointed out.

The old man put a marker on the page he was currently reading, kept the book on the table, and rose from his chair. The woman stood nearby. Placing his hand on her fragile shoulder, he told her that he  hoped he could finish the book by the evening, as there were only around forty pages left. She smiled and led him to the dining room.

The lunch was simple – a little brown rice, vegetable curry made of raw banana and fish curry with coconut; added to it was pappadam and mango pickle. Both the husband and wife enjoyed their meals; they served each other, and, telling a lot of jokes and stories from their old days, they laughed till the end. As he washed his hands, the wife asked if he was going back to his study to continue reading. But the old man wanted to catch some sleep. He knew the lady slept everyday through the afternoon. And he wanted to sleep with her.

As they were lying down on their backs on the soft cushion bed, he said he was going to dream waking up in the evening and resuming his reading, savouring a cup of black-tea made by her. Giggling, she turned her body to his side, put her hand on his chest, and sank into sound sleep. Feeling her warm breath on his neck, he also fell asleep when he could not tell. When she woke up, the sun had descended from his thrown, and the birds were welcoming a blissful evening with their songs. With a rested, serene mind, she went to the kitchen and prepared tea. She called him when she brought tea into the bedroom. He was still in the depth of his sleep. And the old woman tried to wake him up by shaking his arm which , suddenly, she felt frozen like ice. She sensed the coldness of his body entering hers through her fingers which held his arm for a long time, and flowing through her nerves to her heart. Suddenly she realized that the light of her life – the warmth of his love – was gone forever, and she was condemned to live in that cold loneliness the rest of her life.

She was not an avid reader like him. She used to read sometimes – that was all. But she continued reading Love in the Time of Cholera, again and again, until she died one day, again leaving a few pages unread. She wanted to be a part of that eternal journey of love, up and down the river through the jungle. In this way, she could feel his warm presence in her soul. She  read the other book, which the old man had left without reading on his table, with a sense of fulfilling her husband's unrealized dream. She kept that book always with her, and used to smell its leaves to inspire her memories of a lost, warm love....

Chennai,
May 24, 2010.