Thursday, July 17, 2014


Vanakkam. En Peru Mowgli, enakku innoru peru irukku, muradan!

I got this name from my maternal grandfather for my dashingly heroic activities. When I say dashingly it is to the literal meaning, that is how my golden breaking touch worked. Anything I touch would be broken, be it a Horlicks bottle, be it my friends head, be it my neighbor’s kid’s leg, be it my own hand, be it a new dress or trousers, be it anything you can imagine I touch and it is broken. I have broken so many things that I have lost track of it all together. Right now when I turn back I see only a broken soul dried out of life source.
If someone would call me I would just run, without seeing things around or thinking about anything that would be on my way. My speed was important to me not my vision, so blind running was there always. That is why I was a good defender in my football team. It was so awesome to be fast. I would be all around the field making sure the ball never passes our side, that is my side. The same I did in volley ball, backing up everyone. This came with side effects of me breaking my knee, dress, shoes.

I was so excited to do things fast and be first. When people told that am strong and can do anything I felt so good. People would call me superman for being everywhere in the ground. These words were giving so much pride that I would ignore my bleeding wounds and continue to play.
That is why even when my grandfather told that I have to uproot a coconut tree to brush my teeth rather than a neem stick, I went and started pulling a tree, they never thought that I would go and do that. They all enjoyed the show, they liked me being so daring, till date everyone talks about it. The same people are not able to digest that fact that I try new things than the regular things. They don’t want me to have a beard as it is like a rowdy, no growing hair that is like loafer, no wearing t shirts when you go to others house, I should not have my own wishes, all I should do is what they tell and what they is what they think that others are thinking when I do something. Man, give me a break.
When you read all this it would be funny, but for me that is what I was and am. I can do anything that I was told to do. For that I would try everything possible. I would run, fall down, hurt myself, get bruised, lose everything I have, still I would enjoy all of it to just see the end of that side. That is why during my travel anything was not looking like a trouble; that is the same reason the six months in my dream world was not being so tiresome for me, that is why I have bent so much for everyone, but that does not allow them to take me for granted and make me a puppet.
This all does not matter to anyone. I was just being rough. I was called insensible boy. I was not using my brain. I was not taking care of my properties. I was not worried about what people called me. I was being naïve and innocent. I was just going around like a clown. That is what I was told. I had numerous sessions and classes for this. My mom, maternal grandfathers, only two out of three would do that, the middle one was enjoying whatever I did and he would be the first person who saw what can be done with the potential in me, he wanted me to join a military school and become an army man, as he know I was durable person, but my parental grandmother said a single solid no; maternal aunts; maternal uncles; parental aunts and uncles and even their kids were making fun of it and enjoying it.
Here no one understood what my character was. What all I would be able to do. They harassed me, that is how my speed has gone down, my consciousness has grown that I don’t dare, taking decision has become pain, facing someone has become slow and lifeless, this is what has happened to the muradan. My trousers don’t tear anymore between my legs, as I don’t run. My knees don’t break, as I don’t jump to catch anything high. People don’t make fun of me, as I am not running around for any silly things like my wishes instead am making money from abroad. My silence to all their talks has earned me name as a good boy from a descent family.
With all these new masks my attire has grown. Still from beginning I have enjoyed lesser clothes to cover me. I won fancy dress competition for being portrayed a tribal. I had mango and neem leaves tied around my waist and coal powdered and painted all over my body. No more can I do that, it is only for the fancy dress competition, in the present competition to survive and live a life, I have to wear my formals and have the never ending fake smile on my face to win this society.
Then why do you think I would enjoy this softness? How will the muradan be able to live? If this soft descent man is alive, what would he create? more fakeness or more good?

It is too tiring for a small boy who loves to run and play. Telling a boy to run safely is different from stopping a boy from running. Letting the boy try and learn new things is different from teaching only things that you think are safe. Showing the world equally is different from showing the world from where you are sitting. Allowing the boy to learn and become an adult is different from suppressing the boy under the make up a man.

That is the reason I would like to tear of the mask, remove the make up, get wet in rain to wash of all that has accumulated during this survival before I can revive some energy to let the boy become an adult by himself. For that I have to surely kill the man that the society has created. Who knows what would happen….
Yam ariyen paraparamen…

PS: Thank you D for sharing my post to all these people. I see not much have answered my question in the previous post. It would be nice if it is a discussion, which is why I am publishing this in a public forum. If you all want to separately write to me, then write to me here, on my FB page

Dejavus to continue…

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