FREE BIRD

A truck full of assailants clad in white shirt and white mundu and carrying sickles!!

A hero, with rage in his eyes and a heroine in his arms!!

The assailants thrust forward with a roar.

The hero jumps in mid-air, twirls and spins around, kicks and punches the villains and they are thrown all around. After performing a la Superman/Spiderman act, which proved incomprehensible to the laws of physics, the hero and heroine retires to some fancy land to dance off their victory in the backdrop of uniformly clad zillions of dancers. Then the titles scroll up. The crowd is happy to see their favorite hero emerging victorious again.

Ravi too joined the crowd’s frenzy by clapping and whistling. He himself does not know how many times he’s watched the same movie. He carries in himself an unquenchable thirst for movies; and therefore he took up the job as the theatre staff of Vasantham theatre. The job was not a very demanding one. He has to sit in the ticket counter before the show. Sometimes he’ll have to help out Projector Operator Balu to change the reels. Often, after the second show he’ll have to take the film posters to different parts of Chennai and adore the walls with colorful graffiti announcing the arrival of new Tamil movies. The job made his life proximate to the tinsel world. It allowed him to roam around freely in the maze of fantasy, getting astonished by its glitter and glamour and to be in oblivion of the vicissitudes of life.

Balu was his soul mate. Though their salary might seem to be a pittance when compared to the hefty amounts drawn by the corporate and IT professionals, for them it was too much. Their only philosophy of life was pursuit of pleasure; however their quantum of pleasure was much shrunken. Relishing on Chettinad Biryani now and then; getting heavenly sloshed on desi booze; admiring the beauty of abundantly endowed goddesses of earth, although the aestheticity of the act was maligned with a tinge of lust-these were the different facets of their pleasure. Moreover, their profession has made their life inundated with deluge of movies, which gave new manifestations for their fantasies. The quintessence of Epicureanism could be found in their lives. They ridiculed the people who were living under the yoke of the hands of the clock. They were accountable only to their own self and had no obligations arising out of family, society or any other blah. In all sense, Ravi and Balu were free birds who were exploring all available vistas of hedonism.

One day, Ravi and Balu were immersing themselves in the tumult of Marina Beach. Twilight at beach was as usual bustling and it was characterized by an unusually strong sea breeze.

“Hey, Ravi, listen.” Balu opened the conversation.

“Yes. Tell me”

“I’m leaving Chennai. I got a new job in Mumbai”

“What?? Why you’re leaving this job??” Ravi was perplexed.

“I secured a job as a laborer in a construction company. They pay me double this salary”

“But Balu, Why? Then the workload will also be the double. They’ll make you work like a dog. Then what’s the use of a high salary? You wouldn’t be able to even think of spending it. By the end of the day, you’ll be fatigued like anything. I can’t fathom what made you to make such a strange decision!”

“Last week I got a letter from my mother. Father has fallen ill and he won’t be able to work anymore. And the creditors are pestering her a lot. Moreover, my sister has to be married off. With my father falling ill, the responsibilities have passed on to my shoulder. Now I’ll have to take up a job, which pays me more. I don’t care about the hardships which I might incur.”

“Come on Balu!! What responsibilities? Don’t try to be like one among that pack of fools who ruin their life in the name of responsibilities. Listen. We’ve only one life. Try to enjoy it to the maximum. Don’t bind yourself with all that obligations.”

“Enough Ravi. I don’t want to listen to your absurd philosophies anymore. I fell prey to your allurements and had been leading a meaningless life hitherto. I had enough. I owe very much to my family. I can’t afford to be selfish. And you won’t ever be able to understand the meaning of family values; for you’ve run off from your family. Whenever you are free from your pursuit of pleasure, just think about the worth of your life. Anyways, Good Bye!” Balu walked off.

Ravi was left stranded in the beach. Balu’s sudden change of mind bewildered him. He wandered aimlessly through the beach. The sun had sunk into the waters. The lighthouse was throwing light in all directions in an attempt to guide lost boats. Ravi sat down on the sand and reflected about his past.

He grew up in a lush green Kerala hamlet situated in the lap of Western Ghats. His father had died when he was very young. His mother brought Ravi and his brother Chadran up. He perceived his mother as a tyrannical character. She was very fussy about virtues like discipline, punctuality, hygiene, sense of responsibility et al. And these things were a strict taboo for Ravi. His mother took the pain to send him to school. There he bunked classes very often to watch movies and to play cricket. On the other hand, his brother, by being an embodiment of all cardinal virtues, was a perfect antithesis of his. He was his mother’s last straw of hope.

Ravi stepped into youth hood. He spent his days sleeping, eating, gossiping, gambling, boozing, watching movies- in fact doing substantially ‘nothing’. One day he was sent by his mother to withdraw some amount of cash from bank for Chandran’s admission purpose in an Engineering College. On the way back he ran into an old friend of his. They decided to regain the luster of their friendship with the help of liquor. Reminiscences about their past adventures impelled them to rediscover the thrill by indulging in gambling. Eventually, the nostalgia about the old friendship siphoned off a lump some amount of the withdrawn cash.

That event dealt the coup de grace to Ravi’s bonding with family. His mother couldn’t bear it. She lashed out at him. “I’ve borne you for ten months. I’ve looked after you for twenty years. Yet, you haven’t done any good for the family. Now, you’ve ruined your brother’s life. What a wretched being are you? Now I’ve only one request. Please do me a favour by complying with it. Please go away. Go away from our sight. We don’t need you. You are a thorn in my heart. Flee off to any other place. We’ll live somehow.”

That was enough for Ravi. He took the remaining cash and landed up in Chennai. He never felt any kind of remorse over his acts. Rather, he felt relieved to be free of his bondages. Here, he discovered a turf where he can act in furtherance of his self-interest by exercising his discretion to the maximum. . The notion of child repaying his debts towards parents did not make any sense to Ravi. He firmly believed that since they have given birth to a child, they have to duty to take care of the child and the child has the right to be taken care of.

Alcohol filled the vacuum left by Balu in Ravi’s life. On a rainy night he was having an inebriated stroll. Then a motorcycle, apparently running out of balance, knocked him off the road. He hit his head on a lamppost and fell into a sewer. There, in that filth, he lied unconscious for hours. Later, some Good Samaritan showed the mercy to hospitalize him. Thus he ended up in Royapettah General Hospital. He had broken his hand. On the top of it, he was diagnosed with acute dengue fever.

Ravi felt like being in an inferno. The nurses seemed to be agents of Lucifer. They had no compassion. He was subjected to merciless injection; forced to swallow insipid tablets, which killed his appetite. The conditions of the General Hospital were worse than the sewer. The over-crowded place was filthy and stinky. Ambulances sirening, babies crying, stretchers rattling, wounded and sick people moving around: everything got into Ravi’s nerves. The disgust, anguish and above all the unbearable pain were harrowing him.

He closed his eyes. The image of mother came into his mind. Whenever he fell ill, his mother used to serve him some medicine made out of household herbs. That had a pleasant aroma. She’ll sit near him and feel his temperature. Her gentle touch itself had a soothing effect. She’ll enquire periodically about his state. She’ll caress him; feed him. She oozed compassion. And her love and care will vanquish the disease.

Here he was languishing. No soul is concerned about his plight now. No one was bestowing upon him any sort of kindness, any sort of humane consideration or any sort of pity. He’s completely abandoned. Tears rolled down his cheek. ‘ Oh God!!. What a worthless creature am I? My mother toiled her entire life for me. And I’ve always been a cause of anguish for her. I’m paying for the grave sins I’ve committed. With my obscene riotous life, I shattered my mother’s expectations. I ruined my brother’s life. God please give me an opportunity to mend my ways’. He soliloquized remorsefully.

After three weeks he got well. He caught the next Kerala-bound train to reach his hamlet.

It was past ten at night when he reached his village. He proceeded towards his house, with apprehensions about the way he would be welcomed. He knocked at the door. His mother opened the door. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She was very much astonished. She hugged him.

“Where were you my dear son? Where had you been? After you’d left I’ve had no mental peace. In that fit of fury, I might have blabbered something nonsensical. Who asked you to take them seriously? And not even a single letter in these three months. Hey Chandran, look who’s come. Your brother. God!!. I can’t be happier than this… Have you eaten anything? Shall I prepare dinner for you?..Look, you’ve grown thin and dark..Lack of proper care is very much evident”

Meanwhile Chandran came. He ran towards Ravi and embraced him.

His family thus witnessed days of rejoice. The homecoming of the prodigal son was celebrated grandly. Subsequently, he got a job as a cashier in a shop. He was happy that he was handling responsibilities and leading a productive life.

Months passed away. Ravi felt something missing in his life. The job was very monotonous and hectic. He had to wake up very early in the morning. And the entire day he was hooked up to the shop. By the time he reaches home, it would be late in night. He was getting salary and was supporting the family. But he felt that his life was very mechanical. There was no time for friends. No movies. No life for himself. Moreover, all his acts were under the scrutiny of his mother. He imbibed in himself a kind of void feeling.

One day he stumbled upon his old gang of friends. And history repeated. He came home very late, that too completely drunk. His mother couldn’t tolerate that. She scolded him profusely and harshly. He also retorted back and vented out his frustrations. And that resulted in a major altercation.

Next day his mother couldn’t find Ravi in his room. Instead she found a letter in his desk

Dear Amma

I’m leaving to Chennai. I’ll get my old job there. My mentality is so programmed that I won’t be able to adjust to your discipline and schedule. Moreover, my staying here would bring disgrace to our family. But Amma, I assure you, I’ll be more responsible this time. I’ll support the family. I’ll take care of Chandran’s education. Here, I won’t be able to live according to my disposition, which is very whimsical. A bird that’s tasted the nectar of freedom will loathe confinement; it will find it more loathsome if the confinement is voluntary. I just want to fly like a free bird. Please forgive this capricious son of yours.

With Love

Ravi

MANU SEBASTIAN

RAZOR’S EDGE

When the sun was exuding exuberance; when the pair of paddy fields and coconut trees were waltzing out in the ball room set by the docile breeze; when the stream was skipping around in the indulgence of its pristine glory; I advanced through the tar road, albeit marred with potholes. I let my mind to soak itself in the respite from the impoverished, chaotic and polluted life in the metro. My mind thanked me for redeeming it from the reins of statute books, suits, arguments and court chambers.

“Hey, vakil(advocate) sir” .My enjoyment of Kerala country side was interrupted by some rustic call.

I turned back; only to see Mr.Thankappan. He is THE man of the Panchayath. His name literally translates to ‘Lord of Gold’, and he is gifted with a long golden tongue. Professionally he is a barber. But in real life he is something more. While grooming peoples’ head and face, he will groom the information which he has shrewdly extracted from them. Disseminator of (mis)information, monger of gossips and scandals, manipulator of news- these are the titles which he has acquired during the course of his career, flanked across four decades, which determined the local man’s style statement. His small barber shop, which is nothing but a small kiosk made of wooden cardboard, established on the road side, has assumed the status of broadcaster of exclusive news items and repository of unfathomable secrets of legions of people.

Countless are the marriages which materialized due to him. More countless are the marriages which broke due to him. The epicenter of all disputes and the facilitator of negotiations- both are two different facets of his persona.

This garrulous fellow has not only made his presence felt in the social life of the Panchayath but in its political realm too. He is the most devoted subscriber of the Communist-Marxist ideology. As a committed Party member, he has helped in spreading its sacred ideology and in mobilizing public opinion in its favor. Apart from gossips and verbal duels, his shop has witnessed brainstorming discussions which had a great bearing on the local politics.

“Vakil Sir, How is your practice in Supreme Court going?”

“Fine. I’m here for a two week vacation”

“Sir, you are badly in need of a haircut and shave. Why don’t you come to my shop? I’ll give you a lawyer’s look.”

I complied. He thus succeeded in soliciting a customer for his scissors and his tongue.

He led me into his shop. His shop is of the size to accommodate one chair and he himself. There is a bench kept outside for waiting customers. All available newspapers and magazines in Malayalam are kept there. Pictures of Krishna, Jesus and Allah kept at the table. On the side wall photos of film actors ranging from Rajnikanth to Mohanlal to Amitabh Bachan are hung. Epitome of secularism and national integration!!

He started his work. If I say it progressed at snail’s pace, it might cause disgrace to snail. He advanced his scissors through my unruly curly bush in such a way as to cause the least possible pain to the hair. Before cutting down, he caressed each hair, as if to bid adieu to it. Finally he broke his silence.

“Sir, you know one thing?”

“What?”

“We can’t trust amerrikka”

“What!!” I wondered how his observation came out of blue.

“Yes Sir. They are very cunning. We can’t trust them. All this nuclear deal and stuff is a farce. Our PM is very naïve. As our national leader has said, he is a very earnest man. But Bush has made a fool out of him. They will invade India also, like they did in Iraq and Afghanistan. But Russia is ok. And we should make friendship with Kuba and Chavez’s Veneshuella”

“How does it matter to both of us? Finish the work fast”. My capitalist and pro-American attitude couldn’t digest his blabberings. But I was in no mood for a debate. It should be done with equals.

“Sir” he continued “I haven’t gone to college. I dropped out of school at third forum. I might not have gone beyond the boundaries of this Panchayath. But Sir, I know a lot about this World. You cannot imagine who all have been my customers. Great politicians, writers, artists, lawyers, doctors and all. Constant interactions with such people have made me quite knowledgeable.”

I thought he was offended by my statement. I wanted to clarify. But he won’t let me open mouth.

“Hey Sir, you saw that lady who just passed by. Janu. She is a witch. She kicked out her husband from home.

“For God’s Sake. Will you concentrate on my head?” I was really annoyed.

Loquaciousness personified stood behind me with a razor and a tongue sharper than the razor.

Despite my outburst, he was calm.

“Sir, you saw that photo?”

I looked up. A forty year old photo hanging on the wall, where a forty year less old Thankappan was cutting the hair of some other gentleman.

“That is Sakhavu(Comrade) Divakaran. He was my first customer. Actually, he asked me to set up this shop. During the heydays of Naxalism I used to meet and help the activists secretly. That’s how I met Sakhavu Divakaran. When days of Naxalism were over, he became a great leader. He helped me in establishing this shop. He is now no more. Great martyr. In all sense he is my Godfather.”

Meanwhile an auto-rickshaw halted near the shop. Someone inside called him. He went near it. After a while he came back.

“Sir, Varkey,my friend is in deep trouble. I need to meet him urgently. I’ll be back in five minutes”

“Hey, finish my work and go. Stop there”

But he didn’t heed. He jumped into the rickshaw and it sped away.

I was fuming with anger. How could he dare to commit a grave breach of duty before a Supreme Court lawyer? I saw my reflection in the mirror with half cut hair. I looked like a joker. I felt like banging my head on to the mirror.

Minutes ticked away. No sign of barber. I could hear passer-bys chuckling at me.

‘Oh! What a disgrace’

I enquired about Thankappan to one of them.

“He’s in the toddy shop.” Someone replied.

GOD! There’s no point in waiting for him. Even if he returns, he won’t be sober. I covered my clownish head with a towel and went out.

On the way I met Thankappan in an inebriated state. He was on his ‘four wheels’.

“You nasty fellow. Don’t you know to finish off the work? Don’t think that you can get away from me easily”. I lashed out at him.

“What will you do? File a case against me? Then do. Didn’t I ask you to wait.? And don’t call me names. Who do you think you are? Don’t try to show your capitalist and bourgeoisie attitude at me. Our party is ruling the State. Days of feudal lords are over.

And give my cash.”

He was completely out of his senses.

“Cash??For half work. I’m not giving it. You go and file case. Or complain to your Party.”

I left the scene. I was terribly restless as I couldn’t let out the ire and wrath which have accumulated in me against him.

It was after a week that I met him again.

“Sir, I’m terribly sorry for that day. I wasn’t in my senses. I shouldn’t have behaved in that manner” he confessed.

“Hmm. Self-realization is good” I wanted to avoid him.

“I’m in deep trouble.”

“What happened?”

“The Government people have given me notice. They want to evict me and my shop from the place. They are going to build some national highway or expressway or something like that. I don’t know what to do. This is my only means to bread and butter.” He said this with an unusual stammer.

“If they ask you to leave then you must. I hope you have the title deed and other related documents. In that case you will get the appropriate compensation”. I took a very indifferent stance.

“No Sir. I don’t have any title deed. I set up this shop on the road side on the advice of Sakhavu Divakaran.”

“Oh. That means you are an encroacher. Then you don’t accrue any right. Just take your stuff and flee.” I spoke like a lawyer.

“No Sir. Don’t say like that. It’s my life. How can they do it? Sakhavu Divakaran inaugurated it. And our Party is in power. How can they go against Sakhavu Divakaran.?”

“Then you go and ask your Party. I have to go now. See you later”

I felt some kind of sadistic pleasure. State is taking revenge on my behalf.

Next day I saw him coming out of the Party office. He looked very gloomy.

“Any new developments?” I asked him.

“No sir. It seems they have also forsaken me. They also want the expressway to come up. They are no more regarding Sakhavu Divakaran. I don’t know what good the express way will do to this Panchayath. Many poor people like me will be evicted. All those paddy fields, coconut trees and streams will be gone. It will only help the bourgeoisie and capitalist brats to race their SUVs. I don’t know what has happened to the Party?”

“Hey, You idiot. Grow up. This is twenty first century. And a six-lane express way will do more good to this village than a venom-spewing barber.”

I felt very elated having said this. Some relief for my vendetta against him.

Next day the state squadron came to evict the encroachers. Thankappan was in a total inebriated state. He clung hard to the shop with his arms. The bulldozer came with a roar.

“You can’t do it. You’ve to kill me to do it.” he yelled.

The Police men pushed him back and held him tightly. He tried to jump out of their tight hold. The fragile shop was not at all a test for the monstrous machine. A gentle touch. And the entire structure collapsed down. He screamed. It was louder than the roar of the machine. It came from the depth of his heart. It appeared poignant even for me. Unknowingly, my eyes filled.

Thankappan jumped out of Policemen’s grip. He picked up something from the rubble. The photo of Sakhavu Divakaran inaugurating his shop. Its frame was broken. He held it to his chest.

“How could you do this to me? How could Party do this to me?” He lamented.

Suddenly, he started twirling about due to some muscular spasm. He fell down to ground unconscious.

Next day I was making my preparations for my return journey. Later, I heard that Thankappan died yesterday because of massive heart attack. As my car passed by the Party Office I overheard the funeral speech made by some Party Leader.

“Thankappan is a martyr. By wielding the Party Flag in one hand and the razor in the other hand, he led a life on the razor’s edge….”

My car sped away through the prospective expressway. I felt some kind of pricking sensation at my heart.

MANU SEBASTIAN

MONSOON

The car proceeded manoevring the undulating hairpin curves embracing the Western Ghats. It has been a long time since the vehicle has left the bustling Cochin City.Mary John looked out through the window pane.The tar road is getting scorched in the ruthless sun.Mary John's sixty year old eyes scanned the entire sky-not even a sign of Monsoon clouds.She did not find any difference in this sky and the Dubai sky.When she is coming to Kerala after a long gap of three years,that too in the month of June,when Monsoon is ought to be in its peak,this kind of behaviour from the clouds is totally unexpected.Not that her heart was yearning for monsoon.When you have set foot in your enemy's territory ,you know you will have to come across him today or tomorrow.And the delay in the encounter will deteriorate your mental strength.She knew, she will have to witness the monsoon romancing,dancing and ravaging through;today or tomorrow.
Has it not been raining here?”,she asked the driver.
“Rains!!Eh..The monsoon has been behaving very oddly for the last three years.Year before last year it rained like hell.It caused mass destruction.Landslips,thunderbolts,cyclones..Lots of people died.However last year it was the exact opposite.It was very scanty.That too after much delay.And it resulted in famine.Many farmers committed suicide.This year,it seems its worse.Its almost the end of June.But not even a single drop yet.And its boiling.People are dying of sunstroke.Such things were unheard of,atleast in Kerala.Monsoon has become totally unreliable now.”He replied.
'It was always unreliable'Mary thought in mind.
The surroundings corroborated his statement.Parched tree trunks with drooping leaves.The meadows which used to be lush green now turned brownThe mountains denuded now due to the absence of the waterfalls which used to garland them.
The vehicle stopped at a tea-shop and Mary John and her husband Mr.John Thomas got down.A rusty board installed by the Kerala Tourism Development Corporation read-”Valara Waterfalls”.The board is still there.But where is the waterfall.Mary was shocked to see the majestic waterfall which used to enthrall many minds with its grandeur,being shrunk to a thin fibre.What waterfall without water.
“Kerala boiling.Meteorologists say that monsoon may not hit Kerala for the next two weeks”An old radio in the tea-shop screamed.Before it could complete what it was saying,it went off.
“Oh!!This power cut.All the dams are empty.Then how can there be power.What an ill fate!!”The tea-shop owner cursed.
“I hope it won't rain for tomorrow's funeral.”David,who was sleeping througout the journey,opened his mouth.He is Mary's cousin.He came to pick them up from Ariport.Mary and her husband were leading their life in Dubai.Three years back,she had vowed that she won't ever set foot in this dreaded place.But the love and gratitude for Jose uncle forced here to break her vow.Tomorrow is that octogenerian's funeral.If it was'nt for Jose uncle there would not have been Mary John.Joseph uncle was a suitable substitute for her parents.Perhaps her own parents could not have given her the love and care that Jose unlce gave.
Those days were golden days.For the ten year old Mary her Adimaly village was a paradise.She with her Appa,Amma and her one year old little brother Appu lived happily.She used to throb around her lovely village like a lamb.And the month of June-July,when Monsoon would be dancing down the earth,is the time when nature looked the most beautiful.The callous summer sun would leave the land bereft of the passionate touch of monsoon.The heated up,thirsty virgin earth will passionately wait for the skies to open up and to come down to her.Finally,as an answer to all that impatient waiting,the winds will bring the dark dense Monsoon clouds, which will drive away the blazing sun which won't be able to witness the sacramental marriage of sky and land.Thunderbolts will lit up the entire area and will announce the advent of the dark handsome groom.All the trees nodding to give consent to this holy ceremony.Finally, with the permission of all forces of nature, sky will embrace land.Rain drops kiss the land and the intoxicating smell of earth emanates from the land surface.
When sky had given away all that it had to give, land will get satisfied,but still yearning for more.New life will sprout out at the denouement of their love making.All the trees and plants get rejuvenated.Seeds sprouting out.All streams and rivers inundated with vociferously
flowing water,which is now abundant with different schools of fish.All energy stored in the clouds now redistributed among all life forms.
Next day sun revisits.Not as blazing as before.Those rain drops which felt shy of landing on earth and had taken refuge on the leaves reflecting the sunrays to produce different kinds of spectrum.Kids appear with fishing rods.Some find fun in floating paper baots in puddles.The miniature form of Titanic hit against a pebble and started to sink.Kids were re-enacting the melodrama of the James Cameroon epic.The advent of monsoon made people very cheerful.
That was the nature of monsoon during those days.It was very punctual.And docile.But sometimes it will turn a bit naughty and will play some pranks.Such a prank overturned Mary's life.It was like any other day.It was evening and the clouds had started to envelope sun. She was getting ready to go to church for the choir practice.Before leaving she gave a kiss on the rosy cheeks of little Appu.She found her brother a wonderful creation.He was unbelievably small.She wondered whether human beings can be so small and tiny.His soft plummish limbs,small round face,tiny sparkling eyes.So astonishing.She could'nt imagine that one day this tiny cute creature will be as tall and big as her dad.She took him in her arms and tickled him.And the baby started chuckling.She did'nt want to keep him down.
“Oh!You have'nt gone yet.Go before it satrts raining.Dont forget the umbrella.”Mother strated to scold.
As soon as she kept him down,he started crying.He wanted to be in her arms.He wanted to accompany her.It is said that babie being incarnation of heavenly agentsthey can foresee future.However,since human beings can't understand their heavenly language properly,they can't comprehend anything.
As the choir practice was going on,wind started to blow.It was not the normal genteel wind.It blew belligerently.All the candles in the church were blown off.All the doors and windows were shaking on their rickety hinges.All the coconut trees oscillating madly.Mary felt scared.It was dark inside the church.Suddenly a thunderbolt struck.The gilrs felt that the sky has broken into pieces and is falling down.They started reciting rosary.It was thickly dark in the church.It started raining heavily.Rain,wind and thunder competing against each other to prove who is the most aggressive.It was like pebbles showering on the tin sheets of the church.In the lightning Mary could see the crucifix.It appeared scary.Lightning only illuminating the blood stains and the stigmata.Not the graceful face of Christ.It was very gory.Mary screamed.It rained heavily the entire night.The girls had to spend the night inside the church.
Next morning Jose uncle came to church to pick up Mary.His face was gloomstruck.She could see banana plantations lying flat on ground;coconut trees uprooted.Houses demolished.There was a crowd near her house.Besides a fire engine,ambulance and police jeep.She was bewildered.She was shocked to see a huge boulder at the place where her home situated.Home totally demolished.Her house situated at the foot of a hill.During yesterday night's heavy rain, the land above her house slipped and slided down.And the huge boulder rolled down and crashed on her home.Entire home ground.And in the ambulance was kept the frozen bodies of Appa,Amma and Appu.She was'nt able to comprehend anything.Jose unlce came near her”They've left.They've left us.”And statred to sob.She got into the ambulance.She wanted to see Appa,Amma and Appu.Then the people came and took her out.They did'nt want her to see the horrificaly deformed bodies of Appa,Amma and Appu.
That was the first time she realized how ruthlessly monsoon can play with lives.After that she grew up in Jose uncle's home.They brought her up with utmost love and care.But that grave incident left an indelible imprint in her mind.She got really scared of rain.She used to have nightmaresof hurricanes,bloodstained crucifix lit by lightning ,Appu screaming under the boulder and all.And the doctors advised that,further stay in this place might may prove detrimental for her mental strength.So she was sent to a convent school in Hyderabad.She studied well.She visited her village only during summer vacation.Time made her mature.Still,when the skies opened up,she felt some sort of fear at the depth of her heart.It made her very uncomfortable.She completed her graduation and got a job in Dubai.There she met John.They fell in love and got married.After waiting for four years,God gifted them with a son,Martin.They lived in Dubai happily.They often used to go to Kerala.But never visited Adimaly.Just because Mary was not comfortable with it.
**********************************************
The car stopped at Jose uncle's home.Mary felt that her whole body was trembling.All the memories brought back.Things she did'nt want to recollect.Her husband guided her in.There was lying the ninety five year old body of Jose uncle.More than the bereavemnt of her guardian,the involuntary recollection of the past was painful.Throughout the funeral ceremony all the memories about Martin popped up in her mind.She was having a knife in her heart.The only solace for her was that it did'nt rain.
****************************************************
Martin turned 18.He was smart and handsome.He completed his twelth from Dubai.For a long time he has been pestering Mary for a visit to her hamlet,Adimaly.However,she was reluctant to that idea.She had only pricking memories about that place.It was a haunted place for her.But now,she could also feel her heart yearning for visit to her village.And she has gotover her phobia for rain.She could bear rain in Hyderabad and Cochin.Then why not rain in Adimaly.
So they decided to go to Adimaly.They got a very warm welcome there.All the people gathered to have a glance of Mary and her family.It has been over a decade since she has visited her village.All the love that was remaining stagnant in the hearts outflowed.
“Ma,it's a crime that you hid this place from me.”Martin complained.And it was another monsoon season.Martin could'nt do anything but to love it.He danced according to its rhythm.Its music intoxicated him.He could sense the soul of monsoon beckoning his.
One day he and his localite friend Rajamany went out in a bike to capture the scenic beuty of the village in lens.He was a photography freak.But it was the day when rain gods decided to let loose.Madness unleashed.It danced down franticly.Martin did'nt return that night.
Next day his body clad in white was brought to their home.While he was taking the snap of mountains standing at the edge of a cliff , a thunderbolt struck him.He died instantaneously.
It was something Mary could'nt bear.It totally devastated her.Her only son.Only hope.Only reason why she was living.Taken way.Taken away by the same monsoon which left her an orphan at a tender age.Same villain.Same victim.She screamed.She yelled.She was raging with grief,despair,anger and revenge.It rained even on the day of his funeral.Each raindrops harrowing her.Vendetta solidified in her mind.If monsoon takes a human form and stands infront of her,she would chop it off and would set it ablaze.She threw stones at the clouds.
“You,ve taken my Appa,Amma and Appu.Now you've taken my only son.Why don't you take me?What grave sin have I committed?”She yelled.He husband was more composed and he tried to make her calm.
After that both of them returned to Dubai.They tried to forget everything.They donated all their wealth to orphanges.
*******************************************
Funeral. of Jose uncle was over.She was now roaming around the dry,dusty and parched up village.She reached the place where here home was situated.Now people are digging a tube well there.
“What to do Ma'm?All groundwater dried up.Now we have to dig deep”They said
'Monsoon playing another prank'She sighed.
A banner caught her attention-”All religions' prayer meeting for rain at Panchayath Auditorium.Tomorrow at 5 30 PM.Please come and co-operate.”
She went for it.The Vicar of the church ,Moulvi of the Masjid and the Head of the Temple were leading the prayer meeting.
Quintessential display of secularism.!
“We all know,rain plays a pivotial role in sustaining our lives.It is the life-giver.It is the life-supporter.But for the last two three years rain has not been blessing us.If it is because of our sins that rain is cursing us ,then lets pray for the forgival of our sins.Lets pray to God Almighty.”The vicar was speaking.As he saw Mary he stammered a bit.Everybody know the havoc wreaked in Mary's life by rain.Life-destroyer being hailed as life-saver and life-supporter.
Mary also joined the prayer.”You ruined my life.Don't ruin the life of these poor villagers.Please come down.Before leaving this village I want to experience you.Probably our last encounter”
Next day the car came to take Mary and husband to airport.As they were packing up a wind blew.A cool breeze.A refreshing breeze.As they looked up, they could see sun hiding behind the advancing clouds.Sky turned dark.Faces lit up.Rumbles of thunder and people started to dance according to its beat.
“RAIN!!RAIN!!ITS GOING TO RAIN!!” People screamed in joy.
Mary looked up the sky.A rain drop fell on her wrinkled face.An apology from the skies.Then the next one.Next one.And the heavy downpour.Mary and husband got into car and drove off.Not wanting to witness one more monsoon

MANU SEBASTIAN

RAIL OF LIFE

6332 Trivandrum-Mumbai Express-the long python with an irresistible appetite for rails taking a short nap in the tumultuous Trivandrum railway station before starting another session of devouring of rails.
I got into the train and secured my seat. As of now there isn’t any one in my cabin. The air of solitude made me more comfortable.-an island in the sea of human beings. But soon the other claimants of the island came-a contingent of father, mother, son and sister. They were carrying bags and suitcases bigger than themselves. With great dexterity the father managed to stuff the baggage under the seat. Aroma of pineapple, bananas, halwas, jackfruits and other eatables were emanating from the gigantic bags. It seems that they are on a mission to do relief work in the famine stuck villages of North India.
Then the father, mother and the sister got out of the train deserting the son-a wannabe man of 17 or 18 year old. A sense of being disowned written all over his face. Then the father came to the window and gave him a list of instructions:
Do not stand at the door.
Do not get out of the train at stations.
Do not accept anything from strangers.
Call me as soon as you reach Mumbai
He nodded at every instruction. Every father would like to have a son like him.
Now it’s the turn of the mother .She held his hands through the window bars.
“Study well. My prayers will be always with you.” Her eyes were flooded.
“Yes amma.I will”. His reply came in a trembling voice.
“Potte Chetta “.Sister also bid adieu.
The train started to chug off. It was callously punctual today. The farewell scene was so heart-melting that it deserved to be continued for some more time.
I cannot understand why people sometimes express love in a manner, which defies all logic and rationale. They were weeping at the station as if their son is being sent to the gallows. Dear mother, do you want to have your son in your lap for the entire life?
I have also seen bewildering scenes of mothers sobbing at the occasion of their daughter’s wedding. At an occasion, which should make them happy, they shed tears. Its weird. May be the sense of parting with a person who was a part of their body for ten months is driving them to a melancholic mood. I don’t know. Love and logic never go hand in hand.
My companion was sitting there with his head stuck at the window bars. He was wandering in his own world.
“You are studying in Mumbai?” I asked him.
“Ha” He replied coldly.
I groped for some topics, which would keep the ball rolling.
“It seems that you don’t want to leave your native place.” I commented.
My comment made him to get up from his reclined posture.
“To be frank, I don’t want to leave home. It may sound quite babyish. Like a nursery kid crying ‘I don’t want to go to school’. But I wish I never had to return to that rat race. At home I feel that I’m someone. But there I’m just another person My life or existence doesn’t matter to anyone. I feel so tiny there. I wish I never had grown up. I want to be pampered for the whole life.”
I was wondering what made him to acquaint with me so much as to blurt out all his views about modern life.
“You feel lonely in the crowd, right?” I tried to sound a bit philosophical and abstract.
“Maybe. I’ve got lots of friends to hang out with. To chill out with. My co-celebrators. But none to confide in. No one to trust. Just a matter of existing with them and celebrating life with them. The more entertaining you are the more popular you are. Your acceptability among others depends upon your utility-how well others can make use of you. Everything is dynamic and vibrant-with all partying, clubbing and all. But there is some sort of hollowness everywhere.”
His sermon was getting into my nerves. He was sounding so pessimistic and desperate that I felt like jumping out of the train.
My companion again went back to his introspection. The boundaries of his own world wodened; to confront with the realization of his own negligibility in this world. Now he is just a drop in the distributary, which carries all sorts of sediments and sewage to the sea of people. Just to add another minute isle to the archipelago.
The train was moving ahead bisecting the dense rubber plantations of central Kerala.The rubber trees, which would determine the fate of lakhs of Malayalees.Train started to decelerate. Railway lines procreated. A yellow board with black wordings said
“KOTTAYAM”
“chaii….chaii..kaaappii…kaapppii….”
“For the attention of passengers…….”
Porters howling.
Engines whistling.
Rattling sound of trailers
The concert is in progress. The train’s monotonous voice was added to it and the concert culminated at a high note.
As soon as the train stopped a battalion of persons, aged between 60 and 65,made inroads into the train. They were pulaya people-the former untouchables of Kerala.These persons who were bare breasted and were clad in traditional lungi; whose sons who have got readymade collections of at least four or five brands. These persons who still acknowledges the fact that they are low-castes and still kneels before the so-called high castes; whose sons, who have placed themselves in the higher echelons of bureaucracy, thanks to Mandal, treading on the perpetrators of centuries of injustice in pursuit of vengeance. They were carrying lots of stuff. Following them were a middle aged man, a lady, probably his wife, two kids and an old lady of about 75 years of age, clad in traditional chatta-mundu .One of the battalion members dusted off the seat with his cloth and said in the humblest of humblest tone.
“Kochamme irunnalum”(Mistress, please take your seat)
The old lady sat there. She is a typical household Christian grandmother. Snowy hair, crumpled face. Ears, which got elongated due to wearing of the large circular earring, called kunukku. But her eyes were full of energy. They spoke the language of authority and stubbornness.
“Kochamme, will you forget us after reaching Bombay?” the battalion leader asked.
“How can I Kuttappa? You people will be always in my mind.” She replied.
“Even if you forget us, we can’t forget you. We and our coming generations will be always indebted to you and your family. It was your land, which gave us food. It sustained our lives. Now it may be in the hands of outsiders. But we will guard it till our last breath. Kochamme, you will be always in our memories. We are indebted to you.”
He joined his palms in front of his face. Tears were trickling down his cheeks.
“Kuttappa, the train is about to leave. Now you people may leave. Thanks for the help.”
The man said in a baritone voice. He offered three hundred rupees notes to him. He refused to take it.
“No sir. We didn’t do it for money.” The whole battalion moved out of the compartment.
The train started to move. It has witnessed lots of scenes like this and has now become quite indifferent to such emotional outbursts.
As the train started to gain speed, the old lady started to scream.
“Earthquake!!Earthquake!!Lord, save us”
The man and the lady went near her and consoled her. They made her to lie down and administered some pills, probably sleeping pills. She fell into deep slumber. Sound of her snoring resonating with thadak-thadak of train. Downfall of a powerful landlady!!
“Sorry. My mom is not used to train journeys. So she may behave quite oddly. We are sorry for that. Please cooperate.” The man apologized.
“She belongs to Pulimoottil family, which is one of the most powerful and affluent families of Kerala. You know, we were baptisized by St.Thomas. We owned most of the lands of Kottayam and Poonjar. And she used to manage all these lands. She was a lady with iron fist” The young lady started to brag off.
I didn’t understand on which fact the lady is taking pride in.-on the glorious past of that old lady from where she was uprooted or on the fact that the lady with iron fist is tied to their leash.
“ Now that she is old, it has become difficult for her to manage all the family property. And we, her children are scattered all over the globe. No one is interested in looking after the property. We kept on telling her ‘ sell it off. and shift with us to Bombay’. But she won’t admit. She was very adamant that she wouldn’t sell of ancestor’s property. She wanted to breathe her last in her forefather’s soil. We waited for three-four years. But everything has got a limit, right? This time all of us took a unanimous decision. We made her to sell of the land. And the proceeds were equally divided amongst us. Now she is coming with us to Bombay. There she will get better medical facilities. There will be anyone to attend to her, either me or she. Here who is there to look after her? These pulaya peoples who claim to be her trustful servants? You never know, when they will bite back.” The man justified his decision.
The old lady, bidding adieu to her hometown, forever. That too she couldn’t do properly, as she was in involuntarily induced slumber. These prolific coconut trees, lush green hillocks, golden paddy fields, vibrant River Meenachil, the Sunday Church Mass –everything fated to hide in her oblivion. If you try to replant a set tree from its milieu it will wither off. She wanted to embrace death in the soil, which witnessed her birth and growth; in the midst of her contemporaries. Now, she will have to undergo an alienated death; in any cold hospital room; in the midst of all gadgets; surrounded by persons speaking the language of jargons and lingoes. Her children could have granted her a tranquil death. However, sometimes avarice sucks out the last drop of humanity from you.
The train moved on. Past Kochi, Thrishur, Shornur, Palakkad. With great effort, it is now penetrating the Sahyadri Mountains. It was lunchtime. I was getting bored and decided to take a stroll across the compartments.
“Better you cut your nails before serving food “
I turned back. It was that retired Army Colonel yelling at the person serving food. I had met this fellow today morning. He was cribbing about the pathetic state of toilets. Now this fellow is taking on the pantry car fellow.
“Sir, my nails are clean “he retorted.
“ It doesn’t matter. Dirt can accumulate under your nails. And it may get transferred to food. And the passengers may get affected. Why don’t you get a shave and hair cut? Are you coming from jail? Hair may fall of from your face or head and may contaminate food. If we have paid we must get quality service. “ The colonel was steaming.
“ Ok Sir. All of us will the get shave off all the hair on our head and face. And we will cut off our fingers also. Will it satisfy you? “ The fellow replied in a bit sarcastic manner.
“Adjust Colonel. Don’t get too much fussy about these things. Make some compromises.” His fellow passenger advised.
“Shut up!!Compromises, egh? This is the problem with our society. Compromise with everything. Today morning the toilet was stinking like sewer. When I was complaining about it, people told me to adjust. Shove off!! This country won’t progress. This stupid democracy is full of adjustments and compromises. It should be scrapped off and military rule should be established. It won’t give any room for adjustments and compromises. Then only this nation would progress.” The colonel said.
I moved on. To the AC compartment. To get some cool air. To get in touch with some posh and pomp.
Two ladies were talking.
“You know, it took 7500 bucks to straighten my hair. Isn’t it flowing now? “
“Ooh!!Awesome.It took almost the same to groom the hair of my dog, Tippu. He was a Labrador. But last month he died. Because of food poisoning. Negligence of my servant. After that I beat the hell out of him. You know, Tippu was very sweet and lovely. After that I lost the interest in life. I thought of even committing suicide. I miss him very much.”
I left the compartment. I can’t take more posh and pomp. The train is now passing through the Naxal dominated areas of Andhra Pradesh. I wondered what the Naxalites would have done had they overheard the ladies conversation. They might chop off the 7500 bucks-worth-straight haired-head; to bring equality in society; to bridge the gap between haves and have-nots
I went near the door of the compartment. A young man was standing there. Not exactly standing. Hanging from the compartment with one hand on the bar. He had one bottle of Coke in the other hand. It won’t take any rocket-science to make out that the contents of the bottle were not non-alcoholic. He was howling and yelling.
“ I wanna die. I wanna die”
“Dear brother, why do you want to die? You are too young for that” I said.
“Why shouldn’t I? Will you tell me one reason?” He asked me.
What can I answer. I was puzzled.
“ I am a bloody loser. Loser in every field of life. My parents disowned me. About academics, least said is the better. All my friends ditched me. And girls. I proposed to many girls but all turned me down. Why should I live?. My virility is challenged. I should die.”
“No girls. No friends. No money. I should die.”
He started to sing this.
“Sir, if you don’t let us travel, then we’ll have no other option but to jump from this running train and die”
This statement turned my attention from this hooligan. I looked at the direction from which the voice came. Sitting on the floor near the other door were a middle-aged man, his wife and their three children. Their clothes and physique betrayed the days of utter poverty and malnourishment they have had. The man was having an argument with the TTR.
“Please understand. I cannot let you travel without tickets. I have to abide by the rules. I’m accountable to the government.” TTR said.
“Government! Hugh!!. Where was your government when all our crops where affected by drought? Where was your government when the moneylenders and the bankers took away all our lands? Where was your government when many of my fellow farmers ended up their lives? At least, we are making an effort to survive in this ruthless world. If your government is still showing its callous attitude then we will jump out of this train now.”
The man said.
I was thinking who had got the better reasons to die-whether the hooligan at the other door or this farmer and his family in this door. Finally the TTR melted and he let them travel.
I got really fed up. I cannot take more human characters in my mind. I had seen enough of eccentricities. Enough of weirdness. Enough of contrasts. I went back to my seat and slept.
Next day train reached Mumbai. I got down from the train and got dissolved in the crowd. I hoped my first companion would get adjusted with the rat race. I hoped that the old lady would have a tranquil death. I hoped that Colonel’s dream of a disciplined India would materialize. I hoped that the lady’s straightening of hair would have a permanent effect. I hoped that the lady would get over the grief of her Tippu’s death. I hoped that the hooligan would get a girlfriend. I hoped that the farmer and his family would be able to make a decent living in Mumbai.
I moved on. To get in touch with more eccentricities, more weirdness and more contrasts of humanity.
MANU SEBASTIAN

AN INNOCENT SOUL

• Come on George, Run fast” Rahul yelled. George and Rahul were enacting a PT USHA-model sprint in the bustling Ernakulam Railway Station. The Venad Express was luring them with its crawling. George and Rahul put their full energy into their legs, hoping that the Venad Express won't be callous enough to leave them behind in the station. In that process, Rahul hit an old man and pushed him over. He ignored him and grabbed the handle bar of the bogie and sprang into it. George was about to jump into the compartment. But some irresistible force prevented him from doing so. The sight of the old man lying down.; All the articles in his bag strewed the dirty floor-coins, Tiffin box, some photographs, paper chits. People jumping over him; stamping their foot on his belongings. people rushing around without any thought that they are treading on a human soul. The plight of that old man forced him to ignore Rahul's incessant calls.; to ignore the important meeting which is supposed to take place; to ignore the very fact that he is already late for work.Geroge went near the old man. He helped him to get up from his down-trodden state. He also helped him to gather his belongings which were scattered all over the place. He could see the 'X' mark of the train moving to infinity.'Today I'm going to miss the meeting. My career would be at peril. Again I'll be made to pay the price for helping out someone'It's not the first time that the sight of someone suffering has shaken his conscience. The spring of humanity in him had not dried up in the sultriness of consumerist and materialistic world life. He could not brush people off in their plight. Instead, he extended a helping hand. That too, on many occasions at the cost of his own life; his time; his money; his relationships. his future. It happened when he hospitalized a person, who was lying injured on the National Highway like a stray dog. Not only did it cost him a lot of money but it also got him in legal troubles. Same thing happened on his date. He was waiting for his girlfriend in a restaurant. Then he saw an old woman who was begging outside. Later he learned that she hasn’t taken food for many days. When his girlfriend came, she could see him dining with that old lady. That was the end of that relationship. Even if all trees in this world are made into paper, they won't suffice to record the instances where George has invited troubles by being a Good Samaritan.“Thanks a lot. I’m sorry that you missed your train. “The old man said.“its ok.Trains will come and go. But an opportunity to help a fellow human being, if lost cannot be regained” George replied.“It seems that helping out people is your profession” The old man laughed.“If I turn a blind eye to a man in need of help, my conscience will prick.Afterall we all are children of God. I follow what my Lord has said-”Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and will with thy soul, and with all thy strength and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself”“Oh!!You believe in God?” The old man asked.“Yes. I believe in God. God is Almighty” He asserted.“Oh!!If god is almighty, can he create a rock which he cannot lift?” his eyes were full of mischief.George was flabbergasted by that question. He did not know whether to say 'yes' or 'no'.“God is a divine force which is beyond the level of human understanding. It cannot be explained or substantiated with human reasoning” George gave him the same answer which he got from a priest, when, as a young boy, he questioned the existence of God.“Anything beyond reason is unreasonable. I don't believe in the existence of God. Even if it exists it is a very callous and merciless force who do not know how to mete out justice.” The old man started sobbing.” I lost my wife, my son and my grand children in last year’s tsunami. I lost my everything. My children, they never deviated from the path of rigteousness.Still, they had to meet up with a disastrous fate.Why? What is the justification? Why didn’t I get killed? I haven’t committed any grave sin so that I should spend my old age begging in this railway station.Why?When the corrupt officials,gangsters,murderers,dons,smugglers,rapists,dacoits are thriving in the world, why are poor souls like me and my children punished? Look at those children, who have made this station their home. What sin they have committed to be deprived of love, care and protection? Why some are made blind, lame and mentally retarded? What sin they have commited? Why your god is so merciless and unjust?”George was a bit confused about how to console the old man.“Please relax. Lord says that 'Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted.Blessed are they who are prosecuted for righteousness sake; for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven'Haven’t you heard the fable of rich man and Lazarous. Rich man was clothed in purple and fine linen and fared sumptuously everyday. And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus who was laid at his gates, full of sores. And desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table.Morover the dogs came and licked his sores. After death,richman was sent to hell and Lazarus rose to heaven. And in hell, richman lift up his eyes, being in torments and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus in his bosom. God is just. Justice will be delivered. If not in earth but in heaven.” “Heaven!!Hugh!!You people have invented heaven in order to shut the mouth of the poor and down-trodden. You people exploit them; deny them rights; and pacify them by assuring them a prosperous life after death. I have sheer contempt toward people like you. Instead of trying to make world a better place to live in, you daydreamers envisage a sumptuous life in heaven”George had no answer to give. The next train came“God bless you. I have got to go.”Geroge said.“Are you a pastor?”“No. I’m working in a company.”“Anyway thanks for helping me. And for trying to change my outlook on life”In the train, George ruminated over the conversation he had with that man. His bitter experiences have made him skeptical about the existence of God. George analyzed his life. Even he didn't have a blissful childhood or a resplendent adolescence. As a small kid, he lost his both parents in an accident .His relatives, who were eying his parent's vast property, were reluctant to rear him and threw him in the street. He grew up in the company of street children. Later he was adopted by Christian monks. There he got love, care and education. They instilled in him a quest for spiritual knowledge. He learnt all religious books, especially bible. It enabled him to develop a positive outlook. He believed in God, though there was no rational base for that belief. He felt that there was some in divine intervention in his life. Though his parents died in the accident, he escaped miraculously. Though he was thrown in the street he was given shelter by the pious and philanthropic monks. Though he never got the opportunity to study in any prestigious school, the sagacious monks imparted to him wisdom and inculcated in him a cheerful disposition. All his miseries appeared to him as blessings. He wanted to devote his life to express his boundless gratitude to that omnipotent, omnipresent and obscure force. He found the fragments of that spiritual entity in every human being.'The King shall answer.Verily; I say unto you, insamuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these my bretheren, you have done it unto me'These words were his inspiration.When George went into boss's chamber, a volcano erupted. Lava of anger flowed out from boss's face. George was actually a laughing stock of that office. His ridiculous adventure gave enough relaxation to them from their hectic work.During lunch break he met Rahul.“You dumbo! You could have easily come here, had you taken that train. But you cannot leave behind that oldman, right? Was he your grandpa or what?”“Why should you be concerned about my behavior? Isn’t it my prerogative to decide what to do?”“George, be practical. I’m not saying that you should not help people. But you have to look after your affairs also. These people have very short memory. When you are in need of help. I swear. no one will turn up. People are very ungrateful. This world is unfit for people like you.”“If you are telling these things just to give an exercise to your idle tounge, then continue. But if to change my attitude, then it's better you give rest to your tongue.”

*********************************************************************

George was giving colour to the monochromatic National Highway with the red blood oozing out of his head. He gazed at the sky. The moon and the stars were watching him lying down helplessly like the people who had surrounded him. Birds flew over his body, like the people who passed by without even turning an eye. George could hear the footsteps of death approaching him faintly.The world was playing a cruel joke on George. But he could not comprehend the magnitude of that joke .At least, to do justice to innocent souls like him, there should be a heaven.MANU SEBASTIAN