Showing posts with label Nostalgia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nostalgia. Show all posts

When I think green, I remember my father's ancestral house nestled in the interiors of a remote village in Thrissur. The small tiled roof house enclosed by a dense courtyard, lined with coconut, mango, jack fruit and arecanut trees. You name the trees and it will be there.. Where the faint scent from nutmeg and tamarind trees waft in the air.. Where the cows and hens rule the haven..Where the courtyard wall is never concrete or cement but a dense row of thorny bushes... Where the summer vacation were spent climbing guava trees, munching juicy red cashew fruit and slightly sour roseapples (chambakka)..





















Image:wwwsoulreflectionsinartcom-colleen.blogspot.com


 The small house stands proudly, with a neat garden in the front. At a corner of the yard stands the cowshed and hencoops. Right next to the cowshed, there are pyramidal haystacks mounted after the harvest, which ultimately feeds the cows. There is an old well with moss covered stone walls near the house. Pigeons used to build nests between the creeks of it's wall and we used to scare these birds by splashing the water with well-aimed stones, that makes them noisily flutter out of their cosy nests. The well water was used to irrigate the fruit trees in the courtyard. Water was initially pumped up into a small tank, from where it flowed through a channel and then cascaded down forming a waterfall. As kids, all of us cousins used to take bath here. Few will plunge into the tank, few will be in the water channel, and others frolic under the manmade waterfall. It used to be an awesome experience playing and bathing in the pure, ice cold water coming deep from within the earth. This water will ultimately flow through mud structures made into a canal (kayyani) that irrigate the whole land. I used to love playing in kayyani. Whenever water was being pumped, I used to run through this mud canal happily splashing the water all over. During monsoon, when irrigation was not required, I would eagerly watch out the kayyani for those green tadpoles and eggs floating on staggered rain water..

There is a long wooden bench and desk in the house, where we six cousins used to sit together and have food. Pet cats used to walk under our desk, rubbing their furry bodies against our legs, eating tidbits of fishfry and pappad that fell from our hands or are deliberately dropped when we didn't like the food. There used to be atleast 5-6 cats anytime. As a kid, I used to hate milk. Drinking milk was a chore which I used to escalate to the cats. So after carefully ensuring that my Mom was not looking, I will pour out my share of milk to a coconut shell and secretly offer the cats, who used to lap it up all gleefully.

In the evening at dusk, we used to visit our family temple. When I think about that time, I remember everybody freshening up to visit temple and I can still feel the scent of Cuticura powder mingled with sandalwood paste lingering in the air.. We used to take oil bottles and wicks to lighten the stone lamps around the temple. I love the sight of these coal black stone lamps darkened by years of exposure to oil and fumes. I feel, it's the fresh feeling of evening bath and the heavenly glow of stone lamps in the dark that gives a spiritual aura to my childhood temple memories.. Even when I visit temples nowadays, which happens rarely, I don't feel particularly religious, rather I feel spiritual..I feel light..

When I took hubby dear after wedding to the ancestral house, I was looking forward to recreate those wonderful memories. Showing him the old house, the well, the cowshed and hen coops, the kayyani and temple..The cowshed is uninhabited and wild creepers have grown all over it... There is no trace of the hencoops.. The old well and the tank still remain as testimonies of good times.. In the evening, it was drizzling but we still decided to go to the temple. My parents, sis, brotherinlaw and little niece were also there.. We had to walk through the dark village path for a short while to reach the temple. It was pitch dark and cloudy with no street lamps. As we walked under the umbrella, M's arms wrapped around my shoulder, the cold breeze making us quiver, I longed to see the glowing stone lamps and fill myself once again with the spiritual aura of my childhood. As I looked ahead, I could see the rest all walking ahead. My Achan and Amma under the umbrella leading the way.. My Chechi and Chettan with vava in arms closely following them.. And we both behind.. As I pointed out to M, how my Achan holding Amma under the umbrella is the same way in which Chettan is holding Chechi & it's the same way M's arms wrapped around me, we couldn't help smiling.. Three generation walking toward the temple in the rain... Three generation seeking spirituality and solace in the age old dieties of the temple, where generations of people have thronged.. Life seems to have come to a full circle...

It had been a long time since I lost those keys, the keys to the wooden cupboard upstairs at home. Out of blue, my Mom found it out last weekend. It had been years since I had opened the cupboard. It was stuffed with old school books, magazines, few greeting cards, a dead spider and few cockroach eggs among other stuff.

I flipped the pages of my history text book.The papers have turned into a dull yellow with rusty brown spots scattered around. History used to be one of my favourite subjects,unlike most of my classmates who perpetually cribbed about mugging up boring events and insignificant dates. For me, History classes were never boring. Rather they triggered my imagination. I used to imagine myself living in the Harappan civilisation, fighting in Bolshevik Revolution, praying to the Inca gods and travelling through Amazon rainforests. As for exams, I am sure I gave vent to my poor suppressed imagination on the exam sheet.

There were my school note books wrapped in brown paper with those colourful name-slips glued on them. The brown paper must be a product of the yesteryear's school-going generation. I wonder if brown papers are still available around in our stores. Inside the book, the blue fountain pen ink had started fading away..

My handwriting looked so unsteady & childish, so very different from what it is now. When we initially started using fountain pens in school, I remember the trademark blue ink smears on our fingers, where the fountain pens used to leak. During lunch break, you will find a gang of kids ritually rubbing their fingers against the stone wall near the wash area to get rid of those blue spots.

On the lower deck of the cupboard, there were a collection of Balarama (kid's magazine) & a bunch of greeting cards belonging to my sis. She had collected it over her school & college days. It was an era when Bday cards & Christmas cards were a rage among the college goers. It must be the time when Archies cards started invading the Indian gift shops following economic liberlisation.

Then I found my old school magazine where I had written a small article. It was weird reading through it. The words which I had penned a decade back sounded so strange..It was like rediscovering the old self and realising how much a decade has changed me..Maybe years from now, when I read this blog I might get a similar feeling.. Maybe I will feel good.. Or maybe I will feel it's all so silly...

I absolutely love this feel of finding old stuff unexpectedly...the feel of the memories associated with it..It's always nice to find an old friend in a crowded bus rather than at an Alumini meet..It 's nice to find an age-old photograph while flipping an old book rather than seeing a newer pic on Flickr or Picassa..

I remember the time when I opened my Grandfather's wooden chest many years back. I got two coins, one dating back to as far as 1897. It was only a quarter anna coin or so, with the head of a British King. It was a real treasure for me. I feel like hiding some of my stuff now, so that many years later when I accidentally discover it, it will feel extra special.

 During my growing up years, I used to love going to my grandmother’s house. It was in Vypeen island, a sleepy little town, separated from the mainland of Kochi by a wide expanse of backwaters and Arabian sea.














The boat journey from Kochi to Vypeen island used to instigate my childhood fantasies… The fleet of majestic ship at the Cochin shipyard and the brightly lighted sea-port gave it a magical aura. As the ferryboat move away from the mainland, I used to watch out for those innumerable green islands that dot the Arabian sea and the Chinese fishing-nets yonder in the horizon. It used to look enchantingly beautiful during sunset. Seagulls and cormorants used to hover over the fishing boats, trying to snatch off few fish from the boat’s deck. And an intermittent beacon of light flashing from the light house use to guide the boats and ship in the dark.

My grandma’s house was a ten minute walk from the boat jetty. The backyard of the house directly opened to the backwaters. I have never seen any house so near to such a wide-stretch of water. In those days, I used to wake up early, to watch the sunrise and the backwaters being painted in colorful hues by the rising sun.

My GM had a pet dog and a small flock of ducks at her house. I used to entrust upon myself the job of opening their coop in the mornings, let the ducks out and likewise chase them back to their home in the evenings. Sometimes the notorious dog Titto, used to chase the ducks and the terrified creatures used to jump into the water , paddle away and ultimately lose their way. And in such cases, my poor uncle had to go all the way to the nearby Mulagukadu island, where they ultimately used to land up and bring them safely back home. On special occasions when VIP guests come home, one of those ducks used to be killed and it would eventually reappear as duck roast on the dining table :)

I used to be awed seeing the variety of seafood, she used to serve us for lunch and dinner. The fishing boats harboured at our backyard and the ice-company nextdoor ensured that we got a lot of absolutely-free seafood at our doorsteps. The crabs, shrimps, lobsters, shell fish all seemed to be a part of our ‘ordinary meals’ during those days. Long gone are those days... No longer is anything free and no longer is anything so readily available. And I stopped eating fish many years ago.

Rainy days used to be li’l wild out here, due to the proximity to Arabian sea. I remember those stormy nights when heavy winds blowing out of the sea, uprooted mango trees and breadfruit (kadachakka) trees in our orchard. The mango trees used to be close to the house and hence their branches occasionally bent and fell on the tiled roof. And once it damaged the roof that it started leaking and flooding the room. There are some images that got framed in my mindscape. One such image is the whole family having dinner under the dimly lit oil lamp, while the storms raged outside.

It was on one of those stormy afternoons that, a lost baby turtle found it’s way through the water and landed up on our backyard. I found out this ‘jem of a beauty’ and instantly fell in love with it. But the turtle on the other hand showed utterly no interest and instantly withdrew it’s pretty head into the shell. I cautiously picked up my ‘shy’ turtle and dropped it into a bucket of water. I decided instantly that this turtle and I are gonna be friends forever.Afterall I have learnt in my GK textbook that turtles live for over a 100 years. After a while, Titto found out this intruder in our house and stood near the bucket barking and growling. I bet he was jealous about all the attention directed at this ‘intruder’. But all my hopes of having a pet-turtle was brought to an abrupt end by my GM, who warned me sternly that sea turtles are poisonous. I threw a tantrum, but in vain. Finally, I sadly placed the baby turtle back into the water. And it swam away , to where it ultimately belonged…

Times have changed...Inevitably, the old tiled house has been remodeled into a more sturdy house. There are no quacking ducks flocking the backyard anymore. And now, there is a wall separating the house and the backwater. The wall that separates my nostalgic yesteryears from today....

It rained heavily in Bangalore on friday. We were having Ethnic Day celebrations at office terrace, when the menacing thunderous clouds rolled up and it began raining cats & dogs.Heavy pellets splashed on us from the tarpaulin sheet overhead. I was traveling home that night. And in Kerala the monsoon was setting in with all its ferocity .

My growing up years were closely associated with monsoon. It was the season I used to love as a kid, the season which used to irritate me when I grew up, the season that arouses waves of nostalgia when I think of it now. I used to hate it because, I could no longer go out anywhere and had to stay back at home. Hence my moods used to be as cloudy as the overcast monsoon sky. There was a persistent damp feeling everywhere & dresses took forever to dry up.

My home is on the banks of river Periyar and it's mesmerizing to watch the river when it is raining. The rain lashing on the gentle river and creating turbulent whirlpools is something I love watching .During my childhood, it was usual for Periyar to flood up during monsoon & threateningly encroach on it's banks. It was something much awaited by us, to play on the swollen river banks swarming with fish, crabs and an occasional water snake. And when the flood gates of Boothathankettu Dam were opened up due to overloading, the rain swollen river used to look menacingly beautiful.

Once when I was 7 years old, I went to play in the river accompanied by my mother. I started playing on the flooded stone steps leading to the river. As a child, I used to behave exactly opposite of what I was told to do .So when my mother shouted, 'Dont go further', I had this sudden inner urge to step forth. Involuntarily I took a few paces ahead . But there were no more steps... I fell into a deep gorge and was helplessly drowning in the river. My mother who never swam in her entire life time was forced to jump into the water and drag me out. Now the moment I was confirmed alive I got a good doze of scolding. Thus ended my trysts with the river. Never again during my childhood was I taken anywhere 1 km radius from the river. Even the mention of the word 'river' resulted in terrible outbursts in the form of scolding & threats!!! But then unknown to my family , I had eloped several times with my best friend to the river banks & plucked those tempting water lilies. That's entirely another story.

I remember the time when we went for Goa trip from college. That was one of our best tours. We stayed in a beautiful beach resort , which ensured that we spent a whole day on the sun-kissed sandy beaches of Goa. But the only kill-joy was our Sir who screamed at us, every time we attempted anything adventurous. So in the afternoon, we locked his door from outside when we went out :) We were frolicking in the sea, when out of blue, it started raining. It was not an ordinary drizzle; it was a heavy thunderous outpour.. And we delightfully stayed in the sea, while the heavens poured itself out. It was simply blissful...And the best part was, we were so far away from the shore, even crossing the danger zone, where a red pole was hoisted as warning.

These incidents surface my mind when I think about monsoon. Between, I am planning to buy the book 'Where the rain is born' compiled by Anitha Nair.It's a collection of stories about Kerala. The title of the book itself is too tempting for me...

I remember Women's Day mostly when I see the glossy ads in newspapers. But , the memories of a Womens Day during my 3rd year Btech are vividly etched in my mind.It was the time when our bossy seniors were out of the college for project work and suddenly we found ourselves as the shakers & movers of the campus. Many of our crazy ideas materialized during this time.

The idea of celebrating Women's Day in a different way sprouted from our 'qool galz' gang. Soon we had our infectious energy & enthusiasm spread to the whole gals in our college. The idea was to host a fund raising Womens Fest & donate the amount to 'Thanal' , an orphanage near to our college. The fest christened as 'Unarvu' (energy) was dedicated to Kalpana Chawla. That was the time of her demise & so feelings and emotions were running high during those days.

The Fest had all entertaining ingredients - fashion shows, cinematic dances, music, stalls, all hosted by the gals. Alltogether, there were more programs than we ever had during our Arts Fest. So for a change, the guys sat back and enjoyed (meant screaming & cat calls) while we took the reins of the Fest. The most important task was to get moral support from the guys, since for a few of them, the very idea of celebrating Womens Day was like undermining the existence of guys :) So a committee of gals were roped in from each class, to win over the guys, collect funds and make it a success. But I must say, the guys were really sporty about it and helped us amass huge amounts for our fund raising. And they were also supportive to the extend that they threw only tomatoes at us the 'qool gals' when we danced onstage. I remember the tomatoes quite matched with our red colour dance outfit. hehee

It was a feeling of being at the heart of the event, because we took all the responsibilities like booking the auditorium, arrangements for stage, audio systems & event management.

In his welcome speech, one of our popular Sir raved like this, " So I dedicate this Fest in fond remembrance of an Indian woman who made us all proud - Juhi errr.. Kalpana Chawla !!!!" The whole audience burst into laughter and a few even cheered. Grrrrr... I personally think it was deliberately done by him :) And I proudly did the introductory speech on Kalpana Chawla.

We put up various stalls during the Fest for fund raising. As usual the 'dedication counter' was a runaway hit. It's where anybody can pay 10 bucks and have a filmy song dedicated to anybody else. The songs will be played in between the events, along with the dedication message. Then there was 'face painting stall'. It was quite crowded with guys because pretty gals sat there to paint faces. Then there was 'mehndi stall' put up by some creative ones. But the toughest job at hand was for 'secret message counter' , where the unfortunate messengers had to deliver anonymous letters even to the principal.

The event was a success by all means and we were able to hand over a good proportion of money to the orphanage. That was a year when I felt worthy of having celebrated Women's Day.......



 Once upon a time, there lived a little girl with sunshine in her eyes & laughter in her voice. It was a Christmas Eve & the little girl Anna was busy making a handmade Christmas card for her best friend. Crayons & coloured bits of paper lay scattered around her. She drew a cheerful, colourful Santa Claus on the card & sloppily sprawled “Merry Christmas” across it…. From where she sat , she could hear the clutter of vessels from the kitchen, where her mother was baking her favourite fruit cake. She sneaked in there to check out the status-quo of the cakes. To her disappointment, her mom was still mixing the batter & the cakes were yet to be baked. Unnoticed by her mom, she dipped her fingers into the creamy batter & licked it gleefully…

Then she ran off towards the window, impatiently waiting for the local church group to visit her home. Outside in the chilly night, she could feel the magic of Christmas in the air. The glowing red star & bunch of balloons that hung on the branches of the gulmohar, wavered in a cold gush of gale. She wished it would snow in India, like it did in those European post cards she admired so much. Waiting on the window sill, she must have dozed off somewhere in between. She could see herself making a real snow man & having snowball fights with her friends. She could hear the jingling of sleigh bells, and the clatter of reindeer hooves on snow…. The strains of carol woke her up. At last the church group had arrived, singing carols & frolicking away. Anna was on cloud nine seeing the bulky Santa dancing, with his wobbling stomach, funny long beard & masked face. She was utterly delighted when he took her hand & made her dance with him. Then he gave her toffees & went away…………

That was years back. Little Anna has grown up. Sending xmas cards is no longer in her busy agenda, let alone a hand made one. Neither does she write any long personal letters. Sitting in her cubicle, the only letters she write are the brisk, professional emails she send to her colleagues seated just yonder her . Cakes are no longer a Christmas extravagance for her. She devours yummy pastries often at parties and then ends up dieting the rest of the week. She shrugs and then laughs off seeing the funny Santa, with that silly looking plastic mask. Anna still religiously attends the midnight mass & celebrates Christmas. But the magic has been lost, somewhere along those years of growing up .

Musings....

Posted by Flyaway Mind comments (14)

I woke up to the terrible feeling of cramps in my legs. I was still in the bus, on my way home to attend a friend’s betrothal. I was not sure of making it there on time. The bus was already late by 2 hrs, thanks to the tense situations at the Kerala- Tamil Nadu border, all in the name of some Mullaperiyar issue. After being immobilized for 2 hrs at the border, the bus finally took off from the Walayar checkpost…Suddenly you could feel & sense Kerala ; the enchanting greenery, the imposing Western Ghats & the refreshing morning air. Never had all this been so alluring ,until I started staying away from home. No longer is anything taken for granted. I particularly love traveling when it’s drizzling. If it’s a heavy downpour, you have to close your window and just sit there sulking & watching the fog developing on the glass panes. But if it’s a slight drizzle, you can leisurely keep your windows open and bask in cool air and enjoy the sight of glistening leaves & the rain drenched tiled roofs of kerala

The last 3 yrs I had been living in 3 different states..A year back, I was in Tanjore in TN.. The first thing you notice there, is the feeling of “ghee on sacrificial fire”. It used to be too damn hoooooot. And we had to walk a long way through the treeless campus to reach our class. We used to literally race to the class to sit inside the a/c. It must be one of the reasons we never bunked any classes:) There was nothing to do out under the scroching sun.My attendance level was too high to suit my character .We were too happy to sit inside the class & doze off

Another thing you notice in the campus is the ease with which you can locate fellow mallus inside the campus. They are the only ones who walk under the fiery sun with an umbrella. I guess the Tamilians & Northies are used to these environmental conditions. So as I walk around with a red poppy umbrella, if I come across anyone with a blue/green/red poppy umbrella, I can confidently walk up to them & ask “enthokkeyundu visesham”( how are you)

But the nights in Tanjore are quite in contrast with the days. Nights are heavily windy, especially during the ‘aadi season’ . They are crispy cool with clear, star studded skies. At hostel, we used to take our mattresses up to the terrace, and lie down there under those heavenly skies ,chatting all the way into the night. We used to try figuring out the constellations and the non-existent comets, that fire away in the night sky (comets will usually be a figment of somebody’s flourishing imagination)..

Then, there was this farmland behind our hostel with rose farms, paddy fields & sugarcane fields. The swaying paddy fields are a rendezvous for the peacocks. If you are shrewd & careful enough to stand like a statue/scare crow, the suspicious peacocks will sometimes allow you watch them. But the moment you take out the camera, some sixth sense makes them to flee away, cackling its horrible cry.(it’s cry is similar to a cat’s cry with a little more volume & bass) . And for some unknown reasons, we gals used to derive much pleasure, by sneaking into the rose farms & taking away some of those pretty flowers.

Then I miss the fun we had in the hostel, the hanging-outs after each exam, watching tamil movies, breaking bday eggs on friends’s heads, sitting late in college in the name of projects & seminars(but browsing most of the time)

The place is famous for the big Brahadeeswara rock temple, with its mind blowing architectural beauty,built during the reign of Chola King, Raja Chola. The tall architecture is designed such that it’s shadow never cast upon the ground , at any time of the day

To my Sis....

Posted by Flyaway Mind comments (8)

Today is my sister's bday. So this post goes out as an exclusive dedication to my chweet sis. Happy Bday Chechiiiiiiiiiiiiii.... Her bday is quite a special one; since she embarked upon this earth on a Thiruvonam day, the most auspicious day celebrated by mallus all over the world.



 So although the date falls on 26th, we used to bash it out on Onam, the day which rejuvenates the nostalgic memories of the warmth of family gettogethers, vibrant colours of pookkalam, ambrosial onasadya, esctatic thrills of a high swinging oonnaal ...(swing)

Until a few years ago, we used to celebrate it in our ancestral home. Our childhood Onams truly captivate the true essence of the occasion.We cousins used to go flower hunting the previous evening in the wilderness of the bountiful courtyard ; in search of those precious golden mukkuttis, teeny-weeny kakkapoos & unblemished thumbakudams(name of flowers).Each one of us will compete to fill our ornate flower baskets. And the next day,amdist all excitement & chaos of a pack of unruly kids, the pookkalam(floral design) will finally be laid out. Then the thrikkakarappan(pyramids made from mud & adorned with rice flour) will be kept at strategic locations to welcome King Mahabali, who according to Kerala traditions,is believed to visit all homes.

Afterwards, we will run off to play, our all time favorites blind man's bluff & kallanum policum.I being the youngest, was usually the unfortunate victim of these unscrupulous:) games. I remember giggling myself away in blindman's bluff & in the process of keeping a straight , innocent face give myself away in kaalanum policum.

By then,we will be all geared up for Onasadya(feast) to tickle all our taste buds with unique bitter, sour, sweet, hot dishes. I am not going to elaborate anything here, since I have this serious grievance of missing Onasadya this time.

I crave to enjoy the thrills of a high riding oonnaal (swing)once more, to reach for the heavenly sky, with wind gushing through my hair & cousins down there quarreling on who has the next turn.

This is the first Onam I am gonna celebrate away from family. And this is the first Onam without my chechi too. I miss youuuu.....Happy Bday...

PS: This post contains a few terms non-comprehensive to non mallus & beyond the author's capability to translate. So please do bear :))

Lost World

Posted by Flyaway Mind comments (12)

So I’m back after a luxurious 5 days at home. Nowadays, five days have become an extravagance, which I can’t afford. Sigh!!! And I feel nostalgic about those long lost college days, when mass bunking was considered to be our birth-right.

Five days went much faster than a supersonic jet . But I did have an effervescent time when I met up with my high school dude , after long years. Felt I last met her in some prehistoric stone age in another world. We both were very excited, swapping news , catching up on each other & having a real tête-à-tête talk

We unearthed many of my old albums & autographs from the cupboard. How good it felt flipping through those old class photos. Some were real funny….

One of my kinder garden snaps showed me , with a wide opened mouth curled in a perfect `O' . During that day, I was down with fever & was not supposed to attend school. But I threw a big tantrum at home, screaming “I wanna be there in my class photo” . At last my parents relented. And there I was sitting quite pretty with a red bow , ready for the click. And it was that exact moment, an irritating cough decided to take a toll on me . I tried to control myself. But the itching cough grew unbearable & I finally let out a long “ coooough couuuugh ”… The camera flashed & it was caught forever. When the snap came out, there was a red faced embarrassed me, fuming at those telltale kids who giggled and proclaimed it was a perfect yawn.

Then there was another toothless smile photo of a 7 year old.. Hmm sort of cute.. And one cute guy was standing next to me :-)

And the school autograph was filled with some hilarious stuff
One went on “I still remember the big fight we had in 5th standard that day that year”Eh?
Another one ended “ mashi theeraraayi..nirthatte”(let me stop now.. ink is going to finish)
Another gal scribbled “ dated till I marry Afridi ” I guess, some die-hard Pak cricket fan!!!

SCHOOL DAYS ROCK!!!!

Hobbies Forever

Posted by Flyaway Mind comments (16)

I got interested in a brand new hobby. It’s glass painting. This thing really got into my veins, when I chanced upon the beautiful Fevicryl Hobby Kit, all set to deceive the eyes of the beholder. My creative juices at once sprung into action. And there I was toiling through the weekend upon a broken piece of glass, unearthed from the attic , amidst an extended family of cockroaches & spiders.So with much effort , finally I finished my masterpiece horse(???) Though at the end, my clothes looked like the aftermath of a vibrant “ holi” celebration, the ‘masterpiece horse’ I believe can be called a decent creation . So it is now all set to be framed and hung to fame. Now I can’t wait to try out the other Fevicryl Hobby Kits . ha ha… I can hear a heave of sigh escaping from my friends….


 Many hobbies have entered gallantly & gone silently out of my life. At the budding stage, I will plunge head down into it & work till I drop.Gradually the interest will wane & it wont be long before the wonderful hobbies find themselves transferred to the museum, which is the attic in my home.

The ‘ feather collection ’ was introduced into my life , when I was 9. The mania started when me & my childhood buddy Sharon got hold of a couple of feathers of a poor,dead kingfisher. From then on, my evil eyes were always on the poor little birds, wishing it were dead ; so that it’s bright plumage will add another feather to my cap.When you really look out for something, you get it!!! I used to find numerous feathers from the courtyard, paddy fields, inside shrubs & bushes and some were even sneaked out of the bird’s own nest.I even remember chasing the poor ducks, in hope that the startled & alarmed creature will shed a few of it’s feathers , while fleeing for it’s dear life. i am really glad, there were no bird flus to scare me back then. Thus I had a large, unruly ,colourful collection of feathers of sparrows, woodpeckers, parrots, mynahs, bulbuls……etc.

The hobby lasted a long five years, & alas met an untimely ,early demise at the hands of my father . It so happened that, as time passed, insects & silverfish found out that my precious feathers were so tasty & started devouring it. One fine morning , my father found this out and my hardwork of five years flew out of the window, down to the foot of a coconut tree. There it breathed its last silent breath!!! I never forgave my father for this act of cruelty, which shattered my young budding heart!!!

I had many other countless hobbies. I'm sure ,anyone reading this wont last through another dose of my mindless hobbies. So I will blog it another time.

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