Redefining Horizons

  It was a beautiful morning that day, way back in 2008. Then, I received that call from my friend in Mumbai. A Malayalee born and bred in Hyderabad, married to a Malayalee settled in Mumbai, she speaks a unique tongue. Our friendship had gone past the necessity of starting conversations with a good morning or good evening. The telephone calls between us were not very regular, but when we spoke, we picked up from where we left off last. We talked about small things in life. Most of the conversation was reserved for pulling each other's legs and laughing. There was happiness in our conversation, always. It has been like that since we met for the first time in 2005. But that call in 2008 was different.    “Arey, do you know something?” she asked. She sounded dead serious.  In the normal course of conversation, I would have said something funny or pulled her leg. “What happened?’ I asked, sensing something wrong in her voice. “I have breast cancer,” she said. I was stun...

Palaces, Castles, and Moats   In the days of yore, there were kings, queens, and kingdoms. Many of them lived in grand palaces, mighty castles, or formidable forts, spoiled by loyal servants, and surrounded by ruthless soldiers. These grand structures were normally surrounded by moats. Moats were usually deep and wide canals, often embedded with sharp stakes at the slushy bottom, and at times purposely populated with crocodiles or water snakes and served as formidable military obstacles. In his efforts to make the defence impregnable, the ruler spent considerable resources to ensure that the moat around his palace remained unbreachable. It was the most visible element of the defence. The moat was wide enough to beat the stand-off distance of the weapons of the potential adversaries he knew of. However, the ruler had weapons that could cross the moat and inflict injuries on the enemy.  The ruler considered himself secure only in the heavily guarded palace behind the moat, but l...

It was quarter past 7 in the evening. Anne and I  were seated on the veranda chairs for our daily dose of post-dinner conversation. The day had been very warm . A cold moist breeze gently blew in. “It's raining somewhere,” I said. She didn't reply. She put a finger over her lips and then pointed towards the cat on the road. We live in a gated community. The colony road, at its broadest outside our house, serves as a tiled pad for turning vehicles. The mother cat was there with her kitten. A child in the colony had brought the mother cat into the colony as a kitten. She was smart and grew up to be a beautiful cat. Ever since, tomcats in the neighbourhood viciously vie with each other for her affections. She litters regularly.  Seated majestically, she had a rat under one of her paws. Her kitten sat curiously watching the rat struggling to escape. Without warning, she let the rat free. What followed was a hunt in slow motion. The rat ran for its life. The kitten seemed lost. M...

Newport in Rhode Island is a beautiful place. Situated by the Atlantic Ocean it offers visitors with frames for perfect pictures. It also houses some stunning mansions.  I had never heard of Newport before, but was the recipient of the large heartedness of Issac Simon, my brother-in-law who not only suggested the trip but even offered to take us on the eighty-five  mile drive to the mansion town. The drive, one of the many such, he graciously hosted so far, was beautiful from the word go with the fall painting the entire route with colours, I had seen never before. With tickets in hand, we actually walked into a piece of American history. Ahead of its times, each room stood out well appointed carefully planned and exquisitely executed. In fact, everything about the mansion was bathed in audacious opulence and grandeur, all funded by slices from the immense riches the individual had amassed over his lifetime. We spent almost three hours within, what was once, someone’s summer...

Background The cemented garden bench, across my house, with bright golden yellow borders and white cross members, looks perfect a partner for the strange tree painted on the wall next to it. The unnaturally multi coloured leaves, all imprints of hands, make the white wall come alive. I do not know what the artists want to convey. To me, it represents a declaration of the arrival of the new generation, colourful and different. The symbolic leaves, reveal the unmistakable urge for attachment despite the deliberate choice of detached existence, uneasy coexistence of silent symmetry with loud asymmetry and subtle yet visible order in the chaotic riot of colours.   During day, the bench and the tree on the wall merge into insignificance with the surroundings. But as darkness descends and the caretaker switches the light on, they transform the area into a surreal spectacle, seen to be believed. Occasionally few, of those ‘palm-print artists’, occupy the garden bench, in a huddle, mos...

Better Than The Best God's Own Country Kerala’s fight against COVID-19 has been remarkable.  The e fficiency with which the state managed the pandemic is trending on social media.In the ‘covidian’ fight, Kerala has proved to be better than the best. Miles ahead in many social indices, other Indian states will take eons to catch up with Kerala. Crumble Zones Amidst euphoria of ‘success’ against COVID, some disturbing headlines also appeared . These were about Karnataka sealing its borders, Tamil Nadu controlling flow of goods, dumping of 80,000 litres of milk, protest by migrant workers, ‘nokku kooli’ (gawking charges) problems, impending return of jobless expatriates, loss of revenue from liquor sales, death of patients denied medical care and an estimated loss of 80% GSDP, each a pointer to socio- economic crumble zones integral to the state. Fragile and heavily dependent food security, inadequate industrial production, industry-unfriendly environment, e...