Shivering At Words…

The power of words! Especially the thrill of unknown words!

Celerity and preceptory

Incarnadined and groynes

Ferae nature and Exporto crede

Bourdon and repining

Cleek and objurgation

Surplice and Unwontedly

Recrudescence and Ashlar

Catarrhs and Agues

 

And then the phrases….straggling ray of moonlight, the dim and murmuring sea, the pale ribbon of sands, the black, wooden groynes, an oblong eminence, the fierce sigh of the storm, the flash of the forked-lightning, the phantoms of the sheeted-dead….

Oh Lord, how much there is to learn and wonder (shiver!)at….meanwhile, let me google the meaning of  impalpable!

Ah, the joy of classic horror tales! Everything from 18 th and 19th century.

Great Masters All!

M.R.James, Conan Doyle, A. And C.Askew, W.F.Harvey, Bram Stoker et al…1149 pages of absolute erudition and blissful shivering!!!

I am grinning happily, thinking of my editor blinking at a description that I  might translate as, ‘ culpably curious!’

***

 

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Thottu-Thottu Nadakumbol ( When they walk, Brushing against each other) : Prof Veeran Kutty (Translation from Malayalam)

 

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When two lovers walk

Brushing against each other,

God spreads all the paths

Before them-

Those that were rolled up

Till then.

They would hardly notice,

All that velvety-softness

Since they would be walking

Above the earth in those moments.

TWO

When two lovers walk

Brushing against each other,

God’s train that comes loaded

With words,

Misses its original track

Before them;

Though they would not be partaking

Any word from it at all.

They would have already mastered

The art of speaking

Without words by then.

THREE

When two lovers walk

Brushing against each other,

They would be gifted a time-book

Wherein the seasons vanish,

In the turn of a page.

They would hardly cast a glance at it,

Since their journey had started

Ages before.

FOUR

Finally,  becoming frustrated,

God might reduce the space

On earth,

For making just one of them stand.

That day, for the first time

They would be satisfied with

God’s generosity.

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Master Wit

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The DSC awards for South Asian Literature has announced its long list. My friend K.R.Meera’s book- The Poison of Love- is in the long list of 13 books selected by an eminent jury. I am thrilled that her  amazing talent as a writer has yet again been recognised.( I have lost count of the number of awards she has already won:) I am also happy that my role as a translator has been recognised.

My job takes me to very traumatising places at times. Like a place of suicide. A severed head  and torso- lifeless-of what once was a very brilliant young man. When you stand looking at the gory remains of a human body, you realise yet again the futility of ego. The way death beckons with a loving smile. Love can be poisonous. It can tempt people into twisted ways of paying back. I have experienced it in my own life. Is it love at all?  Isn’t that sort of love rather evil?

Perhaps as Gibran’s Prophet explained: ‘.. For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst.Verily when good  is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves and when it thirsts, it drinks even of dead waters…’

I see the ripples of love turned poisonous in both the lifeless body now firmly etched in my memory and in Meera’s iconic novella. Tulsi epitomises the peculiar way women can sometimes love. Men too, for that matter. The theme is universal and yet so enlivened by traditional montages and nuances. The human mind is the greatest mystery ever created by The Lord.

I think the Lord has a taste for black humour at times.He has taught me once again that He is the master wit of them all.

**

 

 

 

For Brothers

Very few are gifted with brothers. And still less with brothers as wonderful as mine.

Who or what is a brother? Does he have to share your parents? Can any human being suddenly become a brother? Lord Ram gave Hanuman that great glory when he said, ‘You are as dear as Bharat to me.’

This Raksha Bandan, let me toast the brothers in my life.

 

When you falter,  there is his steady hand

When you fail,  there is his encouraging word

When you struggle, there is his quiet support

When you cry, there is his strong shoulder

When you get up, there is his proud smile

When you walk on, there is his victory sign

When you win, there is his warm laughter.

When there is suffering, moments of intense grief

You reach out and call –

My brother! And he is there.

Till the path ends, till the gate closes

Let us then walk together.

Till the next story scripted by

The master author, sees us

Again, as sister and brother

Let us walk

Quietly together.

*

 

 

A Step At A Time…

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The last few chapters arrive for correction. The artist has done a spectacular job. As I edit, snipping a word here, adding a comma there, I stare at the divine pictures.

The journey has come to an end: Sundar Kanda- 156 pages, 50 chapters.  And quietly a book is born.  The end is  actually a beginning. As always in life.

But I cannot leave Hanumanji alone. The journey with Him has changed my life. How can I let go now- when the joy of describing everything about Him has got me addicted? It is like inhaling camphor in the temple. So I promise myself that the next book on Him is going to be Kishkindha Kand. The thought energises me. Another journey to look forward to. Great!

What have I learnt in the presently concluded one? That I am never alone. That the shield of divine protection encompasses me and my loved ones at all times. That one can achieve seemingly impossible tasks with His blessings. That detachment  is not just a philosophy but a very strongly protected forcefield. If the focus is on Him, everything meaningless falls on the wayside- what remains is what is meant to remain. Fair enough for this life journey.

***