Friday, August 2, 2019

മൂലമന്ത്രം മൂല്യമായാൽ!





പഠനമെന്നും  വിശുദ്ധ കർമ്മം
പഠിതാക്കൾക്കു പാവനകർമ്മം .
 വിദ്യ യേകും വെളിച്ചമാർക്കും
 വിദ്യുത് വിളക്കുതെളിയുമ്പോലെ .

ഗുരുകുലത്തിൻ  പഠനം പണ്ട്
ഗുരുശിഷ്യർതൻ, മഹിമ കാട്ടി.
ഗുരുക്കൾതന്നുടെ  മഹത് വചനം
ഗരിമയോടെ    ഗ്രഹിയ്ച്ചു ശിഷ്യർ.

ഗൃഹപാഠങ്ങൾ  നൽകീ  ഗുരുവും 
ഗൃഹകാര്യങ്ങൾ നൽകീ പത്‌നിയും .
ഭക്ഷണം  പാചകം  ചെയ്വാനായി
പക്ഷിസങ്കേതേ  വിറകുന്തേടി.

 ദൈവസമാനമോ   അതിനുമ്മേലെ
ദിവ്യത്തം  ഗുരു  നേടിയിരുന്നു.
ധനികർ ദരിദ്രർ, എല്ലാശിഷ്യരും
ദിനകൃത്യങ്ങൾ  കൃത്യമാക്കി.

ഗുരുവിൻ ബോധനം കഠിനന്തന്നെ
 കാരിരുമ്പും കനകമായ് മാറി.
നേരാം  വഴിയിൽ   യാത്ര  ചെയ്യാൻ
നേരിൻ  പാഠം   നൽകീ  ഗുരുവും .

ജീവിത  വാടിയിൽ  പുഞ്ചിരിതൂകും
ജീവസ്സുറ്റ  മലരായ് ശിഷ്യർ.
ആശ്വാസത്തിൻ ഗന്ധം പരന്നു
ശാശ്വത  ശ്രേയസ്സ്   പൊന്തിവന്നു .
 
  കാലം  മാറി  കഥയും പൊലിഞ്ഞു
ചേലുറ്റ  ബന്ധം  മുറിഞ്ഞുമ്പോയി .
കാണ്മാനില്ലയെഥാർത്ഥ വിദ്യ 
കാണാനുണ്ട്ചതിയുടെ കരങ്ങൾ.

കലാലയത്തിൻ സ്ഥിതിയെന്തിന്ന്?
കൊലതന്നാലായമായിട്ടുണ്ട്
രാഷ്ട്രീയക്കാർ  വിലസും  വേദി
രാക്ഷസ തുല്യം പെരുമാറ്റങ്ങൾ.
  
അധ്യേതാവിൻ കുറ്റം മാറ്റാൻ
അദ്ധ്യാപകർ സ്വതന്ത്രരല്ല.
സാധ്യതയില്ല  ഉപദേശിയ്ക്കാൻ
സാധ്യത, എത്താൻ മൃത്യുലോകേ.

രോഷപൂർവം  രക്ഷിതാക്കൾ
ദൂഷണവാണി  ചൊരിഞ്ഞീടുന്നു.
കോടതിക്കേസ്സുകൾ  പിറകെ വരും
പാടുപെടുന്നു ശിക്ഷകരൊക്കെ.

ആദരശീലം  കാട്ടും രീതികൾ 
ആദിയിലെപ്പോൽ കാണ്മാനില്ല.
'നേടുക  ആദരം  നൽകിമാത്രം'
പാടെ  പോയി ആപ്തവാക്യം .

മൂല്യശോഷണം  വളരെയുണ്ട്
മാല്യം  നിറഞ്ഞൊരു  കാലമിന്ന്.
മൂല്യം മൂലമന്ത്രമായാൽ
മേലിലില്ലാ വൈഷമ്യങ്ങൾ.


Monday, July 29, 2019

His Teen's Waywardness!



    



Scared he looked, alone he stood
 Reflected his visage deep worries.
Furnished in the old man’s mind
Qualms, his years of experience.

“The reason what would be
For this little mind to fret much?
His gait and garb shows  poor not,but 
From a moneyed ground,” he thought.

"What pricks you,  need solace,
 A solace that comforts your soul?”
 Spurted swiftly his long-used tongue
Stepping very friendly to the boy.

 A bizarre look was his counter,
But, upon the old man’s wiles,
 Responded  wistfully a little after,
 “Affluent if only I had been. ….

 A destitute, an orphan having
No kin, a hapless boy, I am.
My life an adopted product's life
 Stings me, hurts me and wounds me.

 They reared me, nurtured me and
Schooled me, fine, but …,” in tizzy he was.
“Real parents, cannot be foster ones ;
In search of my kin, I eloped.”

Captured things the learned mind,
 Fully involved himself in the matter.
 From the titbits of the boy's talk arose
The details of his present parenthood.

“ Listen, son, may your father-mother  
Be of veritable, foster or step type,
The amount of love they showered
Counts more than what they are.

A boon it is, enjoying a gifted life;
Brought you here your wayward teen.
This ease, this comfort and none of that sort
 Would you have been blessed with!

So son, some gratitude you should have,
 Go and gratify your parents’ yen,
They will fall in grief; reverse fleeing
 And wash ashore your mind’s illness.”

“O, if not espoused, suffered much
 I would  have, no care and concern,
And without the essentials of life, prostrate
 I must at my parents’ feet,” preferred he.







  














    



Sunday, June 30, 2019

ചന്ദനഹള്ളിഭഗവതി!



ഞാനൊരു  പുസ്തകം അടുത്തകാലത്ത്  വായിച്ചു . അതിനെക്കുറിച്ചുള്ള  എൻറ്റെ  അഭിപ്രായം  ഒന്നെഴുതണമെന്നു  തോന്നി . കാരണം  വായനക്കാരനെ  ഊണുമുറക്കവുമുപേക്ഷിച്ച്  പുസ്തകത്തിൽ മുഴുകാൻ  പ്രേരിപ്പിയ്ക്കുന്ന  ഒരു  ആഖ്യായികയാണതെന്നുള്ള  കാര്യത്തിൽ  തെല്ലും  സംശയമില്ല. ഇതൊരു പുസ്തക വാചാരമൊന്നുമല്ല.എങ്കിലും അതിനെ .ക്കുറിച്ചൽപ്പം ഇവിടെക്കുറിയ്ക്കുന്നു.

നമ്മുടെ  അയൽ സംസ്ഥാനമായ  കർണാടകത്തിൽ  നടക്കുന്ന  ഒരു  കഥയാണ്. വാസ്തവികതയാണിതെന്നു പലപ്പോഴും  തോന്നിപ്പോയി. അത്രയ്ക്കും  മാസ്മരികത  തുളുമ്പുന്ന  കാല്പനികതയാണിതിൽ കാണുന്നത്.

  പേരു കേൾക്കുമ്പോൾ ഏതോ ഭഗവതി ക്ഷേത്രത്തിൻറ്റെ പരിസരത്തെ കഥയാണെന്നു തോന്നാം. പക്ഷെ അത് ഒരു ചത്ത  കഴുതയെമൂടിയ സ്ഥലത്ത് കഴുതയുടെ തോഴിയായ പെൺകുട്ടി ചന്ദനത്തിരി കൊളുത്തുന്നതാണ്. ആളെക്കണ്ടു പെട്ടെന്നു മറയുന്ന പെൺകുട്ടിയെ ദേവിയായി തെറ്റിദ്ധരിച്ച് അവിടെയൊരു ക്ഷേത്രമുയരുന്നതും ഇതിൽ കാണാം. അന്ധവിശ്വാസമാണെങ്കിലും അതിലും ഒരു ദർശനം ദൃശ്യമാണ്. കഥ മുന്നേറുമ്പോൾ പെൺകുട്ടി കേന്ദ്രകഥാപാത്രം ആകുന്നുണ്ട്. 

കർണാടകത്തിൻറ്റെ  ജീവിതരീതിയും, കേരളം, മഹാരാഷ്ട്ര, രാജസ്ഥാൻ, ഗുജറാത്ത്.  ഒറീസ, തുടങ്ങിയ  സംസ്ഥാനങ്ങളിലെ  പാരമ്പര്യ  കലകളുടെ  പാരസ്പര്യത  വിളിച്ചോതുന്ന  ആഖ്യാനശൈലിയും  വായനക്കാര ന്  ഒരു  പുതിയ  ഉൾക്കാഴ്ച നൽകുന്നുണ്ട്.

 കഥകളി,കഥക്ക്, രാസ്, മോഹിനിയാട്ടം,ഭരതനാട്യം,ഒഡീസി  തുടങ്ങിയ  നൃത്തങ്ങളുടെ  ശാസ്ത്രീയതയും, കലാമൂല്യവും,അർത്ഥസാരാംശങ്ങളും  വളരെ  മഹനീയമായ ഭാഷയിൽ  ഹൃദ്യമായ   ശൈലിയിൽ  പ്രതിപാദിച്ചിട്ടുള്ളതാകുന്നു .

മുംബൈയിലെ  ചുവന്നതെരുവുകൾ  എന്നു കേൾക്കുമ്പോൾ  തന്നെ  മുഖം  ചുളിയ്ക്കുന്നവർക്കുവേണ്ടിയുള്ള  ഒരു  പഠനപ്രക്രിയ  ഇതിലുണ്ട്. ഒരുചാൺവയറിനുവേണ്ടിയുള്ള  ദുർവൃത്തിയ്ക്കൊപ്പം  ശാസ്ത്രീയ   കലകൾ  ശാസ്ത്രീയതയ്ക്കു  ഭംഗംവിനാ   അവിടെ  പരിപോഷിപ്പിയ്ക്കപ്പെടുന്നുണ്ട്.
പണ്ഡിതൻറ്റെ യും , പാമരൻറ്റെയും, ധനവാൻറ്റെയും ,  ദരിദ്രൻറ്റെയും  മനോവിചാരങ്ങൾ  മനസ്സിൽ  തട്ടും  വിധം  പ്രതിപാദിയ്ച്ചിട്ടുണ്ട്

വായനക്കാരനെ  സന്തോഷിപ്പിയ്ക്കുകയും  സങ്കടപ്പെടുത്തുകയും  ഇരുത്തിച്ചിന്തിപ്പിയ്ക്കുകയും   ചെയ്യും   എന്നുള്ളതിനു സംശയമേയില്ല.
സാധാരണയായി  കാൻസർ ,ഡയബെറ്റീസ്  എന്നീ  രോഗങ്ങളെ  കേന്ദ്രീകരിച്ചുള്ള  ആഖ്യായികകളും  കഥകളുമാണു കൂടുതലും കാണുന്നത്.  എയ്ഡ്സ്  എന്ന രോഗം വിരളം. ഈ കഥയിൽ ആ മഹാരോഗം ആണു നായകന്.അയാളും ആവോളം അനുകമ്പയ്ക്കു പാത്രമാണിതിൽ. ഞാൻ കഥയെക്കുറിച്ച് ഒന്നും തന്നെ എഴുതുന്നില്ല. വായിച്ചുതന്നെ അതിൻറ്റെ രസം നുകരണം.

മൊത്തത്തിൽ മഹനീയമായ  ഭാഷയും വിജ്ഞാനപ്രദമായ  വിവരണങ്ങളും ഒക്കെ ചേർന്ന  പുസ്തകം വായനക്കാരനെ ആകർഷിയ്ക്കുമെന്നുള്ളത് നിശ്ചയം. 
  
ഇംഗ്ലീഷിലേക്കു  വിവർത്തനം  നടക്കുന്ന പുസ്ഥകം കന്നടയിലും  താമസിയാതെ വെളിച്ചം കാണും.

     പുസ്തകത്തിൻറ്റെ  രചയിതാവ്    ശ്രീ S R K പിള്ള (പേരൂർ ഈരേഴ തെക്ക്. മാവേലിക്കര)  ആകുന്നു. അദ്ദേഹത്തിന് എല്ലാവിധ ആശംസകളും.

ഈ പുസ്തകത്തിൻറ്റെ പ്രകാശന കർമ്മം ജൂലൈ മാസം 30 )o തീയതി തിരുവനന്തപുരത്തുവച്ചു നിർവ ഹിയ്ക്കപ്പെടുന്നതാണ്.

Thursday, June 20, 2019

Winning Hues!




The garden with its
Loving inmates pull beings.
Winning hues on blooms.

 The lovely pink blooms
The Edward Rose exhibits.
 Beautiful attire.

Make-up Shrub has done;
Well suits her purple-bloomed garb.
 Around her vibgyor*.

Sweet smell spreads scented
 Dress, attracts it, passers-by.
What a striking scene!

Unwilling to return
Stay eyes long in the garden.
Forgets viewer glooms.

Nectar-loving Flies
To the Shrub, fly from far,
Fall in love with her.

·        *Spectrum colours



Linking to Carpe Diem Haiku Kai
I wanted to add these haiku stanzas to another topic. Since the date expired I am linking here. I am fond of Haiku.











Wednesday, May 22, 2019

The Real Mother!



“Who is the real mother?” said Sariga half to herself and half to others.

With heaps of hopes, only Sariga entered into her matrimonial life. As she expected the new domestic atmosphere hugged her snuggly.  She was welcomed by her spouse’s family of mother-in-law, father-in-law and a sister-in-law. Days filled with delight acquired a usual style of illuminating that small shelter containing a bedroom, a sitting-dining and a cooking room. It was a neat shelter, nowhere squalid. Her better half, Vijay, a daily-wage worker, was a better half to her in true sense. After the dawns of a couple of years, the daybreak of a blessed day gifted the family with the birth of a baby girl. The tiny little one was named Navaneetha that grew as the apple of the eye for everyone in that domicile.

In the meantime her sister-in-law, Mahima attained puberty and slowly her youthfulness became her partner. Beauty didn’t show any stinginess to adorn her, instead shaped all her organs with attractive features. As it is natural of human nature, boys were ready to travel with her in her fiancé ship. But she did know the fiscal limitations of her family, though her clan was very particular to furnish the possible luxury in her arrays and ornamenting items. With a great deal of effort only they could launch that brilliant girl in the college for further studies after the twelfth grade.  Somehow a youth, Kashyap, the postman of her village happened to see her when one day the former plunged a wedding card into her compound. He began to silently follow her wherever and whenever do-able. He was not a native of that village.  At last on his expression for courtship, she reciprocated in negation and narrated about her present scanty pecuniary position to him, “We are a happy family earning a small income for our bread. We cannot give dowry and all.”  

 But somehow even without her go-ahead his manners penetrated into her mind and occupied a seat there. Gradually dreams started visiting her in her night slumber and her daytime invited reveries. So the pastures, tree-shaded nearby garden, etc became their meeting areas during their leisure time.
 It was a bolt from the blue for the family, when they came to know about the affair of Mahima. Her kinfolk thought Mahima, a simple-humble girl could never enter into a love's event. They tried tooth and nail to reroute her from that event because they knew that a central government employee won’t turn back from asking for a huge amount as dowry. Their trial went off track and nothing achieved success.

“ Amma, I met a girl very pretty. She will pass her B.Com course soon. If you see her you will like her,” presented the matter Kashyap very tactfully.

“ So what should I do?” Amma, as if she didn’t understand his intention.

“Um...I ..like to..marry her..,” fumbled he.

“No problem, but we should get a good dowry. You have a sister, we need a good amount for her marriage,” Amma. That is the system rife among the unprivileged group. ‘Take dowry and make dowry with that’ went on there.

These days, ‘give no dowry, take no dowry’ strategy flies in the air everywhere, but the girl’s parents fate is to hoard huge amount for the wedding expenditure. Ornaments, bridal fineries and even dowries are a nightmare for the bride’s parents. And that is the reason why so many female feticides and even infanticides. Mostly the underprivileged become unprivileged in weddings or goes for incompatible spouse-selection. After imploring his mother much, Kashyap could make his mother be in accord with him. One clause that he had to abide by her suggestion which was at least a small dowry had to be obtained.

Conversation between the families took place, but the girl’s side had no way to find the dowry amount. Bank loans would show them the way to debts and mortgaging the house would end up in confiscation. And eventually Mahima became ready to sacrifice her love for want of money. Vijay pondered over the matter to find a way without being falling into big liabilities.

Vijay got a straw to sip his water of trial that he entered into a contract with a family stating that his wife, Sariga had to concur with that. He presented the matter before her very affectionately in a soft voice, “O, my sweet love, ‘I’ll tell you something. Don’t deny first.  Think, and then reply.”

“What is that? Why too much formality?” responded she.

“You know Shyam and Latha are devoid of any children. They want a woman for surrogacy. They will pay a handsome amount. If we get that we can pay the dowry for Mahima,” Vijay in a fast mod.

She denied first, adding a law crying sound. Nevertheless, her better half’s description of
 their plight and need changed her mind to an affirmative nod. Though a slight reluctance and woe peeped into her mind, she agreed.  She underwent all the procedures of carrying a zygote of Shyam and Latha in her womb. Shyam and Latha were very pleased and became very particular to provide all sorts of care and comfort to Sariga, whose womb was the bed of their invaluable asset.

 Aha! The much coveted day loomed. A sweet tiny baby boy proclaimed his arrival with his snivelling sound. The neonatal little one’s cry in the hospital room, destined for Sariga, filled the air with large degree delight. It lit high-watt light bulbs on visages, in particular on that of Shyam and Latha.

As was the condition laid down in writing, Sariga had to part with the infant on the seventh day after leaving the hospital. Shyam and Latha got ready very early and drove to Vijay’s house. Finding no boundary to their gleefulness, Shyam hummed a tune which Latha repeated in the car.

Then all of a sudden a black cloud appeared on Sariga’s face that burst out like thunder, “O, No, I won’t give my child. I cannot part with him.”

People turned speechless. Vijay was in utter confusion. No consoling words, no promise of gifts and no counselling from others could change her mind.

The matter was drawn to the court. Sariga’s family could not afford to appoint an attorney to argue for her side. Moreover, they had money seldom to repay the lump sum drawn against surrogacy as it had already gone to Kashyap’s custody as dowry.

So Sariga came forward to argue her case. Nervous was she, but pleaded before the court, “I carried the little one in my womb, I nurtured him, I fed him till now,” said she, “Sir, tell me who is the real mother, me or Latha? The dear one is my flesh, my blood, my food and my care. I cannot be separated from him. He is the sibling of my daughter, Neeharika. He will grow with her.”

“But you have to go with the contract,” the court.

“What contract, sir? Is there any contract bigger than mother and child relationship? They gave me a seed and I sowed it my land. So I should get the harvest. We will somehow pay back the debt. I will work for even a small income. Little by little I will pay back,” deep sobs and weeps accompanied her argument.

The court could not counter her argument, as she bagged the sympathy of the court as well as all around and hence gave a verdict in the form of advice, “Both the families wait for some time and then arrive at an amicable settlement.”

Though she came home triumphant, she could read the disapproval of her act on every face including her own parents, in her spouse’s abode. Nobody uttered a word.

Nightfall was a solace for Sariga, “Have I done the right thing? How will we pay back the amount? O, how will I give my darling to them?” her mind was confused’ “ But with everybody’s anger and unhappiness, how can I survive here?”

Despite their disappointment,  Shyam and Latha were much tolerant, so they did not go with a bickering attitude. Silently they headed home.

The night was scary for her. Her head meddled with introspection and the thought of ' Part with or not'.By morning she arrived at a decision, though highly heart-breaking, “I will give this dear darling to them. It is their zygote, so their infant only. Latha is his real mother.”

A soothing breeze of a sigh of relief blew in the vicinity. She was not after all a woman with ethics nothing.







Saturday, April 13, 2019

പീഢന പ്രളയം !


This poem is based on a true story happened in recent times. A mother- she does not deserve that sanctified term-opts for residing with a lover after her spouse’s bereavement. The lover, who was a drug addict; used to hit, batter and throw the little ones, a seven-year-old and a four-year-old. The elders exhibited brutality to the extent of leaving the little ones home alone at midnight.  The hustle of that dwelling ended up in the murder of elder one. With tear-filled eyes, only one can read the whole incident.


വീഴുന്നവർ   സങ്കട ത്താ ൽ
കേഴു ന്നവർ   പീഢന പ്രളയം
പാഴായ് ജന്മം   ചെറുപ്രാ യം
വഴി യില്ല  രക്ഷപ്പെടുവാൻ .

അടിയു മിടി യും നിത്യം   സുലഭം
തട്ടിച്ചു ഴറ്റിയെറിയ ൽ   വേറെ .
വാക്കി   പ്രഹരം  അതിലു പരി
വാർക്കും  മിഴിനീർ  രണ്ടുമക്കൾ.

തെക്കുദിക്കിലെ രാജ്യം തേടി
ദുഃഖം നൽകി അച്ഛൻ പോയി.
കണ്ണിൻ  മണിപോൽ കാത്തൊരച്ഛൻ
കാണാമറയേ യെവി ടോ ആണ്.

കണ്ണടവെച്ചയച്ഛൻറ്റെ ചിത്രം
കണ്ണീരോടെ  ചേട്ടൻ മെന യും.
വാഗ്ദാനത്താൽ  പുതിയോരച്ഛൻ
വേഗമവിടെ  പാർക്കാൻ  വന്നു.

അധികാരിയായ്   മാറിമെല്ലെ
അധികം  ശിക്ഷ  കുഞ്ഞുങ്ങൾക്ക്.
രണ്ടുപേരും ഗൃഹത്തിനുള്ളിൽ
മിണ്ടാപ്രാണികളായിത്തീർന്നു.

ജ്യേഷ്ഠനു  വയസ്സോയേഴുമാത്രം
കനിഷ്ഠ കു ട്ടിയ്ക്കു നാലും  പ്രാ യം .
ഇളം തളിരാം  കുരുന്നുകൾ  ഇന്ന്
വളരെ  സഹിയ്ച്ചു  ജീവിയ്ക്കുന്നു.

സ്വയം  ഹത്യ  ചെയ്യും  മാർഗം
സ്വായത്തമല്ല കുഞ്ഞുങ്ങൾക്ക് .
സ്വപ്നംപോലും  ഭീകരമാണ്
സ്വാന്തനമേകാൻ  ആരുമില്ല 

എന്നെയും  എൻറ്റെ   കുഞ്ഞുങ്ങളെയും
എന്നും  തല്ലുംഎന്നുമാതാ.  .
പഠിപ്പുള്ള  പെണ്ണ് അവളെന്നിട്ടും
പീഢനം  പോലീസിൽ  അറിയിച്ചില്ല 

കുട്ടികളെ തനിയേയാക്കാൻ
കുറ്റബോധം തെല്ലുമില്ല.
അന്നുമമ്മയുമച്ഛനുംകൂടി
എന്നുമ്പോലെ  തനിയെവിട്ടു

അമ്മിഞ്ഞനൽകിയ  അമ്മസ്വരൂപം
അമ്മയാകാനർഹയല്ല.
പാവം രണ്ടു   കുഞ്ഞുങ്ങളും
രാവിൻ  മധ്യേയുറങ്ങിപ്പോയി.

ചെറിയ  കുഞ്ഞു  കിടക്കയിലൽപ്പം
മൂത്രം  ചൊരിഞ്ഞു വുറങ്ങുംന്നേരം.
തൂക്കിയെറിഞ്ഞു  രണ്ടാനച്ഛൻ
ഊക്കോടെയഗ്രജനെ  താഴെ.

ദുഷ്ടജന്തു  നിർദ്ദയൻ ക്രൂരൻ 
ദ്വേഷപൂർവം   കുട്ടിയെക്കൂട്ടി .
ആശുപത്രിയിൽ  കൊണ്ടുപോയി
ലേശംപോലും മയമില്ലാതെ.

പത്തുദിവസം  അവനു  വാസം
അത്യാഹിത  വിഭാഗത്തിൽ .
പിതാവിൻറ്റെ   സമീപത്തിൽ
പതിയെയവൻ  പറന്നെത്തി .


കൊഞ്ചും പ്രായം കഴിയാഞ്ഞിട്ടും
ചാഞ്ചല്യമവർ കാ ട്ടി യില്ല.
പുഞ്ചിരിയെന്നേ മറന്നുപോയി
നെഞ്ചകം നമുക്കും നീറുന്നുണ്ട്..

അമ്മ തന്നുടെ   കുഞ്ഞുങ്ങളെ
കാമുകനു കൊല്ലാൻ നൽകി.
 ഉണ്ണികളുടെ  ദുരിതം കാണാൻ
കണ്ണില്ലാത്തൊരമ്മയിവിടെ. 

പുണ്യ മുള്ള സംജ്ഞ  ‘അമ്മ’
മണ്ണിൽ വീണു  വർണ്ണം കെട്ടു.
കുട്ടികളെ  ദ്രോഹിയ്ക്കുന്നത്
പെറ്റൊരമ്മയ്ക്കു സഹിയാവതോ?

Wednesday, March 20, 2019

The Ultimate Step!



Asha, a twenty-four-year-old woman, thanked God when she obtained her appointment in a state government concern nearby. Soon a proposal for an alliance combating their fiscal as well as social status approached them and it got nodded from both the sides. The fiancé was a guy working in a public sector undertaking. Nuptials went on smoothly without any hitches or hindrances. After a year they also yearned for the most precious gift, which every couple desires subsequent to the nuptials.    
Deepak and Asha rejoiced and were on cloud nine because they succeeded in their venture of obtaining the parenthood.  The venture passed through a series of prolonged struggles for about eight years.  The trouble of pecuniary aspects also was not less since the treatment incurred a sizeable amount as it was in a high-tech hospital.  Eventually, God extended his altruistic hand and helped them grow a zygote in Asha’s womb. At each developmental stage of the fetus, the prospective parents were much anxious and excited. Seemingly the days seemed to be months and years because their patience waiting for two hundred seventy days between the conception and confinement exhausted every so often. 

Aha! The most cheery day dawned with the enthusing news, the news of emergence of a baby from Asha into this wide world of light and sound. The neonate was a male which they had yearned for much. The parents and grandparents found no bound to their delight, as the home was blessed with the tender one’s advent.

The baby passed through the metamorphic stages of toddling, prattling, speaking, walking, running and so on.  In between the naming ceremony, the first intake of cereal food, the first birthday celebration etc. climbed the pinnacles of pomp and show with a large gathering of near and dear. His every action filled their dwelling with joviality. As the toddler’s body and mind attained progress in growth, the parents’ greed also grew in progression. It seemed that their aspiration for a child was totally for their status-exhibition. They wanted to get accomplished through him, whatever they couldn’t achieve in their young age days. So they turned to be hard taskmasters and on such occasions, on no account, they recalled the plight of obtaining this highly prized beloved dear.
 The outcome was a tough and rough life for Nitin, which led him to be a wee lazy. He had to go for classical as well as instrumental music classes that fell in two days a week. Another day was earmarked for the visit of an artist that engaged him in painting. And the rest of the time home, he had to obey the orders of his textbooks and notebooks and thereby the teachers. As a result, the cheer-rendering free time went on diminishing for him along with the rotation of the Earth.
While his peers were at play in their own courtyards, Nitin had to meddle his head with incomprehensible art and music. He couldn’t enjoy the daylight or moonlight in a full-fledged manner. He had a large headed Jack tree in his compound which though, fell into his eyes, couldn’t grab his attention. Near the gate of his house stood on either side zinnia plants in rows. The flowers lurked to smile at him, but he didn’t heed to mind them. The butterflies hummed melodious tunes and nothing that sort attracted Nitin’s attention, as his day to day affairs started littering his sense. No dreams of his own were spun and he performed things on the script devised by his parents, just as the time in a clock that moves when the cell is charged.

Exams were true nightmares for him, for he knew he couldn’t satiate his parents with his grades that never transcend the level of ‘C’ or at the most ‘B’. All the ensuing exams used to spoil his sleep and quiet. He remained on the trial of achieving the best, keeping aside his laziness. But despite his hard work, his tensed mind did not act in his favour. And moreover, his anxiety too did not allow him to fare well in any of the exams.

Prior to the pre-boards, for days and nights together he used to keep his books open. So also long lay his bed without its master, for the master had to remain in the scary company of lessons. The first pre-board however took its track of exit after its destined stay in the school.

At the arrival of his teachers, his eyes scrutinized their hands well to see if any answer bundles entered the class along with them. For him, each bundle looked like a bomb, from which a slice would explode in his domicile at any time. As expected his grades took a stance of defaming him rather earning censures from his parents. The parents were the sort of people that never opened their coffer to expose their love. And moreover, their lingual organ was frequently in exercise, reproofing Nitin at his poor performance. One’s tongue can build and break relations and make or crack health spoiling the calm around. The entire thing used to stain the atmosphere.  So naturally, Nitin found in his parents two foes, who, he was scared of, to a larger extent.

A liar, who invented newer and newer methods, took birth in him for an escape from his parents’ situation-tarnishing tongue. His answer papers that came within his reach lurked between the recto and verso of his book leaves. They waited there for many days expecting an endorsement from Nitin’s parents.

The teachers had touched the lowest step of tolerance, for they were not given the chance of viewing his parents’ sign. Hence they had to continue threatening him to be taken before the Principal. However, the distribution date of the progress report landed on the anvil. Once it was at hand, he knew that there was no way to break away from the punishment.

 “Rebuke from the parents and reprimand from the teachers will make my day then,” was his thought.
He had not shown his answer scripts, which were still at slumber stage in his bag, “I am sure my parents won’t sign the progress report or papers. The answer papers the teachers are not so strict about. But the report card, umm, what can I do?” he pondered over the situation for a way to a flight from punishment.

“I will. sign… myself. O! No,… my class ma’am will …catch me. She..she is very clever.  I cannot delay further…..O, Not only that, my parents may go to the teachers.”  Nitin touched the zenith of his fret and fell in utter confusion.

 “ Nitin, ‘yes ma’am’,  what have you done in the exam? A fifth-grade child will do better than this,” the card came to his hand with that comment from the class madam, as anticipated.
All the thirty-nine pairs of eyes rapidly turned to him to read his face. He put his head down in shame and stood without looking at anyone.

“No shame on your part, no trial to improve. Going down? The principal won’t allow you to write the exam. We don’t want to spoil our school’s name.” the class teacher’s share of remarks further.
“The rest I will get from Amma (mom) and Achan(pop),”  he knew that turn by turn they would shower words of heavy weight on him.

“If I don’t show the report card, they will reach the school,” said he to himself.
Anyway, the card didn’t see the light in front of his parents that day. A couple of days passed and the third day he escaped with an excuse that his father was on tour. The teacher pardoned him for one more day with a warning to return it the next day itself with his mother’s acknowledgment.
“What to do! Further delay is difficult. The school may inform them over the phone,” Nitin was baffled. 

Every day Nitin is home by three, three-thirty or so and then after snacks and tea he strides to the tuition class. But that day the time trekked through four, five, six and seven o’ clock. Anxiety conquered the calm of his home, though the parents guessed that he might be in one of the friends’ house. A big commotion took place in that house; phoning repeatedly to school, the individual teachers, friends and other contemporaries, all in vain.  Phone calls from dear and near also flew to all the possible places. But none knew his whereabouts of that day and eventually keeping the prestige apart, the parents stretched their arms for the police aid. Immediately the complaint was registered and the police reciprocated. Two men from the force arrived at his house and questioned everybody around and no clue emerged out of anybody. The time, waiting for none climbed the step of nine at night. The policemen charily studied the situation, hunting for some clues.

At last inside a dictionary between the cover-bind and the first leaf, they came across a scribbled sheet, “ Dear Achchan and Amma, pardon me. I cannot get grades as you expect. I tried a lot, but impossible. I am not good at studies. I am not a good son.  I can do only this much.  I don’t know if I will pass. So I am leaving the place forever. Don’t inquire about me. Don’t worry also. Somewhere we will meet, I don’t know where.”

Nobody had any idea, as to his elope was purposeful and planned. The police could extract from his friends the fact that he had distributed his belongings like the pen, colour pencil, geometry box etc- his parents used to buy costly showy study articles for him- to his peers, who were scared to open the mouth in the beginning.

 The police could understand that a couple of days before he had mentioned about the depth of the backwater nearby. The friends used to quite often visit the bridge which was only one kilometer away from the school. They found pleasure at the sight of the water and sailors in the water.
 “How deep the backwater would be. If we jump into it, can we come back?” once Nitin had asked his pals. They thought he was joking.

The police made scrutiny of all the incidents, taken place prior to his flight and they arrived at an inference.  He might have jumped into the water, unable to bear the stress and strain of studies, loaded by the parents and the school.

The time kept on skipping from lower ranges to the higher and reached 11 o’ clock on the clock. The hour of six onwards the parents’ condition was becoming dismal, though they had mechanically allowed their phones to enter all the pathways.

The mother’s consciousness was at the edge of fading; a sort of melancholy reined fully the home. Father’s throat became reluctant to produce sounds and as a whole, a silence with some whispers and sighs heard around.

Then all of a sudden one of the police officers got a phone call which said a boy around fifteen years has been saved from drowning and admitted in an unconscious stage in the I C U of the hospital. The police and a relative of Nitin rushed to the hospital, where they identified the guy as Nitin.
Nitin after the admonition from the teacher went with one of his friends to the latter’s residence on the pretext that his parents’ would arrive late that day. At the same time, he had informed his own parents that he had a special class in the school. At about 6:30 his lower limbs pulled him to the bridge, where he stood rating his calibre,” Why should I be alive? I am good for nothing, getting rebukes from all sides. Nobody wants me here.  No, I shouldn’t live anymore.”
The decision of concluding and continuing his reside here debated with each other, the upshot was that in a half-minded mode he turned back. At that moment the signature and the report card reported to him his plight. He resumed position and again an uncertainty of ‘to do or not to do’ haunted him, but at last, he chose his own last, the ultimate step and jumped into the backwater.

A fishing boat with some fishermen sailed that way and sighted the boy sinking and rising in the water. They rowed the boat to the spot and risking their lives, they jumped and pulled the person. Without wasting any moment, he was given the required first aid and taken to the hospital.
The police people ushered the parents to their son who had not till then attained normalcy. With heavy hearts and angst-stricken minds, waited and waited the parents in the room. The time went on performing its duty with no delay and arrived at eight in the next morning. No expectant news penetrated through their auditory organ and hence losing the hope, Amma’s sense turned dim in spite of the succor extended by the clan. Achan somehow managed to save his self from collapsing.  Anyway the intense nursing attention brought mother back to sense, but was very weak.
Agony and anxiety stuffed the minds and they found it tough to kill time. Time seemed to crawl slower than a snail.

Unexpectedly an announcement “Nitin’s parents wanted in ICU”, turned people lend their ears for keen attention and quickly the parents were escorted to the ICU.
“Amma,Achcha,” whispered Nitin’s lips. His conscious condition, which was not expected at all, soothed the parents, wiping off their bottomless grief.

The parents very emotionally after one week,“O! Dear darling, you have taught a very high moral lesson not only to your cruel parents, but to numerous other parents like us. “