My Family and others.....

A typical day in the S.K household has always been very noisy yet filled with humour for me. Whereas a day in the R.K household is more dramatic and emotional, with plenty of frowning, grinning, blaming each other, wise words and a lot more theatrics. The latter being my household and the former being my step mother's.
The S.K parivar is who I go to when I need plenty of sunshine, the ceiling fan, a cup of chai and the blissfulness lent by a 100 odd books. The chatteratti here includes EMS, social workers, the plight of mentally challenged children in Trichur and the world over, communism, Che Guevara and of course whats for lunch/dinner and tomorrow's breakfast. Its the family that has indulged many a politicians with the right values (yes- there still remain a few!), with grandmothers who have more energy than a 13 year old. Its the home where you can simply put your right foot in and your mind goes off onto having a mind of its own. Simply put. Its one of the homes that I love coming home to any given day.
We have the following people in it-

Janu, the gracious mother, beautiful brown skinned intelligent, great mother poised and a great activist in her youth. Not that she's that old now.

Her two offsprings-
Che ( he claims to be a food revolutionary and can draw umimaginable parallels between himself and Che at any given time of the day), the younger one all of eleven years.

prodigal son- being the older of the two sons. much older than the younger one, an aspiring lawyer, almost every other day found in the bus from Pune to Cochin, mostly with an excuse to be back home.
And then again, who wouldn't want to be back with the S.K parivar?

nambi baby- grand mother to Che and NKSK, Janu's mother who lives with them mostly until now.

S.K- the father, the politician mostly available a few days a week at home.

apple's adam- the much loved nephew.

Kutty- really, the child. Mentally challenged they say. Sweet as a pie. the epitome of peacefulness. The luckiest of the lot, I would say.

More on them once I finish the next story...okay?

Colour Modification this....

Is it the blue skirt and the flowers on my desk that made you stare at me in silence? Could it be that I like putting flowers on my hair and I like to colour my lips that made you think I am a woman?
I can't go on with this indulgence you say, but the truth is that I still think its the colour orange that made me glow.
Here's all of it again, for you,
intoxication isn't a state of the mind. It's the willingness of the heart. Its the power to see things in their statelessness, without grief overpowering you. My unpadded feet can feel the sand, and the toes play around trying to hold the sand between them. Often going to the beach is a self imposed breach of freedom. You must feel the feeling of loss in order to correct yourself no?

The house with the granite, green in shades, the green around unsuitably crafted out, the cane in the chair and the air filled with the joy of apprehension. The grasping of the situation, it's grief laden intent to make them wait in order to bring out the bursts of sheer innocent happiness...

Do you often think in black and white? Or would that be in colour? If in colour, what may I ask dominates the frame? Please tell me it's orange! I beg of you! Even a white or a yellow I can take. But nothing more.


I can sit stand eat breathe glare smile weep dance on my toes tickle the soul out of you tell you the story of the rabbit who ate a turnip and the princess who wears the bow at her nape even today.
Its all around you in spells. Need I say more?


So as it goes, you wanted this and this you get for asking me for a while the reason I love to indulge all the while knowing it yourself.