Saturday, July 29, 2006

Something forgotten to share !

As I have mentioned a month ago that during my last vacation, I was lucky to be in Malaysia for a few days.

I had also posted some pics earlier in my blog, but the rest of the beautiful pictures were forgotten in my portable hard disk.

Yesterday I happen to see those and remembered that I haven't shared it with you.

Here are two of them...and more to come when ever I remember
Looking up to Petronas Twin Towers.

Lookig down from Petronas towers.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

A photo Quiz. Yes, it is passion flower !!

Enough is enough!

Beware !!!
Your little grey cells are getting rusted !!!

It is believed that if you don't use your grey cells in your brain, it starts to disintegrate with time.
I don't like that to happen to any one of you.

Here is a photoquiz for you.

It is so easy.
What you have to do is to recoganize the flower shown here.

According to the latest world botanical chart, It is considered, one among the sixteen most exotic flowers in the world.

A clue ?
Of course I can give you one.

This is a tropical flower with a curious name, that is related to one of our emotions or moods.

You have 24 hours to answer.

As most you have surmised, it is a passion flower which turns out a bit sour but delicious fruits ... that too from my backyard.

Last two years, this creeper was in some kind of meditation, no flowers and no fruits.

But this year it has compensated me with plenty, even during the drenching rain.
See it's evolution through my pictures.

Thanks for all who participated...shows that your grey cells are still very potent. LOL

Monday, July 24, 2006

Here, right here !

When patches of grey
Spread like a

Sky, shedding its blue
Turn to blackish

The stars, blinking
Forever lost their charms

But I will wait
Tell me where, dear!

Wind be the rhythm
Birds do the

Let peacocks to dance
Let baboons to

A melody in air
Let merriment befall

I will wait
Tell me just where
I would be
Stay with out fear

Laughing with glee
Dancing with

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Sorry with a smile.

As I was vacationing in India and there was a temporary ban on access of almost all bligsites, I was unable to post anything or come around your blogs.

I apologise for not writing replies to your comments.

Please aceept my apologies.
Thanks to all who came around to my post.


Sunday, July 16, 2006

A pending tag.

I was tagged by Monica.

Monica is an old friend and she practically tricked me in to this tag, though she gave me the right to say ‘no’.
She knows that I won’t say ‘no’ to her.
As usual, I am not going to inform her that I have fulfilled the tag. She has to come here and find it out herself. She doesn’t come here often, you know?

My choice is Jim Carrey for the tag. I think he suits my fantasies with his acting in the movie ‘The Mask’

If you look at my header for my blog, you will see an image of a revolving mask.
I would like to be a Jim Carrey with that mask on my face, doing good things to the poor people. I like to steal from the rich and pass it over to the poor like “Ali Baba” did. But I am not a communist.

It may be a wild fantasy but I like it, like my other fantasy as being an ‘invisible man’.

I also feel that every one has to wear a mask atleast a few times... at some time in their life time.
I do believe that one can’t survive with out one.

So imagine me with a “Mask” like Jim Carrey.

So here is Jac with a mask.

Thursday, July 13, 2006


My heart and soul are with the families of the terror victims in Mumbai, in which the death toll stands at 200 till now.

My deep sympathies with the bereaved families in Mumbai.

Who will give answer to those tears ?

Above is a picture that came in a news paper.

Monday, July 10, 2006

The drunk mahout !!!

I was in Sudan on staurday.
I was supposed to be in a metropolitan city in India on Thursday.
That appointment which was fixed a month before and I didn't wish to miss it.
I checked time tables and informed my travel agent and she confirmed my booking. I will land at the city airport in the wee hours on Thursday and my appointment wss at 11 AM, giving me ample time to refresh in a hotel.

Sunday morning, my travel agent was frantically on my line informing me of a Gulf Air cancellation. She apologized and told me that my direct flight was cancelled. She could book an indirect flight which would land at 1300 hrs.
I said no way, as I have every chance of missing my appointment.
She offered an alternative option if I am ready to travel one day early. I can land in another city and take an air conditioned train ride if that is acceptable.

Though I would loose a day, I was thrilled by the offer of traveling in a train for almost 9 hrs. I accepted the offer on one condition, to get me a booking in a non air-conditioned compartment which was a cheaper way to see the country and safer in the rainy season.
But what I finally had was a booking in an air-conditioned compartment, my only available option.

Came Wednesday, and the Gulf Air flight landed on time as promised by my travel agent.
I got in the train in a reserved seat in the air conditioned coach. It was clean and neat inside but the only problem I had was the widows.
I wasn’t able to breathe fresh air as all the window panes were locked to help the air-conditioning system. I could see everything through the window but I missed the fresh air.
This was my long awaited travel in a train after a very long time. I kept looking through my windows at the beautiful country side. The green paddy crops out side, and the rain drops on the windows. It was monsoon time in India.

The train stopped in a station and I looked out my window.
I noticed that some people were getting out from my couch to the platform for food in the station restaurant, which means that there will be at least half hour delay in the station. I got out to the platform to stretch my legs.
As I looked around, I found a lot or renovation going on in the station itself by the granite slabs piled at one corner and the steel rods stacked beside the fence.

Right through the top of the heap of granite, I could see and upper parts of an elephant with a mahout on top.
But there was some thing wrong in the movement of the jungle giant and the tiny fellow on top controlling it.
I was curios and moved as close as possible as I can and there I saw a small crowd of people with amusement in their face. I couldn’t move closer but I could feel the uneasiness in the movement of the elephant and looking up from that position I could see the mahout lying on top and shouting at some one occasionally.

Jac ! the curious ! couldn’t move closer! The fence and and the granite slabs prevented it.
I moved to a man who looked like a railway worker from his dress, who was looking at the commotions with interest and laughing with amusement.
I moved closer and asked him what was the problem with that elephant. With out looking up from the sight he replied that the problem was not with the elephant but with mahout.

He said looking up at me with a smile and said that the mahout is drunk.
OMG!!! That was news to me!

I have seen elephants of Africa which are bigger and fiercer in look.
But I also know that Indian elephants are graceful, though they are smaller in size. I haven’t seen any mahout being drunk on top of an elephant. I wanted to go out of the station and watch the scene. I looked around and saw people trying to board the train. I had no luck, I had little time.
I wanted to know what happened to the mahout, but the announcement came on the paging system that the train will leave in a few minutes. I ran inside the compartment for my camera and had just enough time to take it out of my bag as the train started whistling.
I wanted at least a picture of the scene from the fence, but at the door, the guard cautioned me that the train will move now as the signal is clear.
I went back inside to my window seat, moved the curtains fully and cleaned the glass panes.
The view was partial, with the granite slabs and movement of people marring the view. I just had enough time for two shots through the window, as the train started moving.

I wished I could share all I saw there. I wanted to get down and watch the aftermath.

This was a time, the time that I miss my car.
Traveling with a self driven car has its advantages.
I could stop anywhere I liked or sleep in any place I wished.
That is a fun in dry seasons… but in monsoon or what others call as rainy season, the drive can be risky with slippery roads with water filled pot holes.

You may sleep at your heart’s contend with a stranded car in the middle of a forest locked up inside, with rain and a storm beating around you.
You also may hear the thud and you may open your eyes to see a wild tusker looking at you through the wind shield, challenging you to come out with raised hands.

Ha! Ha! My imagination is wilder than me.
I have a picture of my window seat too.

Thanks for being patient with my blah! blahs!

Wednesday, July 05, 2006


She said that it is called ‘Champaykka’
She taught me that in her language (mine too) which I couldn’t speak well at that time.
She was an extremely tall woman.
She was my Grandma!
At first I thought that she is from Africa like my Mom, but when she turned to look at me, I saw her features more clearly.
Her very short hair was that which mislead me to think that she is from Africa, which was due to the cropping of her hair by a recent typhoid fever attack as my Dad said.
Her eyes were very large and long and it emitted radiance.
She looked at me with a surprise when I called her ‘Valiammachy! (Grandmother in her tongue) as Celina miss taught me to.

She has no way to know about Celina miss who was my mom’s friend.

Celina miss was a school teacher from India who has married a Nigerian lawyer.
She was coaching me to face my Grandma, who doesn’t know any other language other than her own.
I already knew that she dislike my Mom, and for that matter my dad too, for marrying a Kappiri( a colloquial name for people from Africa) as she call my Mom.

When she heard the word ‘Valiammachy’ she turned and looked at my dad who was smiling at her.
She walked slowly towards me and told me that I was not a Kappiri at all.
But I knew better.
I was not like my dad who was tall and fair skinned like a Brit.

My problem was different, as I wanted to be coloured black, like my Mom but ended up with a fair skin which made me different where ever I went, except in the Gulf and in India, for I had a brownish skin with a tinge of black with it.

My Grandma walked around like a kid that day.
She never used any support though she was 84 years old.
When she walks around where there are steps, she uses her hands to support some one.
It was the second day that she asked me if I want to walk around with her. I was pleased and followed her ike a shadow.

She took me to the river bank where she sat in a rock with difficulty and told me that the river belongs to us as it flows through her property.

She showed me an old cashew tree with full of yellow and purple fruits with raw cashew nuts projecting down, with its branches leaning sideways almost touching the water.
She told me that my dad used to climb that tree and do double and triple flips in to the river like a hunting harpoon when he was small.
We sat there almost an hour and she kept talking to me in her sing song voice.
I did understand only a part of it, though I nodded my head frequently in approval.

When she wanted to get up she looked down in to my small eyes and called me a ‘kappiri’… this time with love, and asked me to help her get up.

She took me all round her property and told me that it is all mine too.

She stopped near a tree… a tree close by that was full of glistening pink fruits. I haven’t seen anything like that before. The tree was completely covered with fruits and small white flowers too. She told me that the name is Champaykka.
She plucked some with her hands and gave them to me to eat. They were ripe and delicious. While I was eating she was looking at me curiously with a smile.
She looked around to make sure none can hear us and told me that she like my Kappiri Mom too. That surprised me but the next moment she added not to tell that to my Dad… with out a smile.

She was the only one I met ever, who talks with a sing song, musical tone.

I saw her looking at me and my dad with out batting an eyelid when we waved and got inside the waiting taxi in front of her house.
That was my memorable 8th day
It seemed that she knew that we will never meet again

My grandma passed away after one year.

Now I have two trees in my backyard with full of pinkish pearls most of the year.
I have it there so that I will always remember her.

Take a look at this kappiri’s pink Champaykka evolution.