SOLITUDE SCRIBBLES

Bejewelled, in Green Ratnagiri is like Sri Ragam from the vocal chords of the maestro of Maharajapuram. The showers that add bliss to beauty is akin to the Kunnakkudi magician in accompaniment. Ratnagiri has given me the bliss of a lifetime, amidst all that nature could do to me on my way back home from somebody’s Mumbai to someone else’s Trivandrum. It’s just Entharo Mahanubhavulu reverberating inside me as I visualize the bejeweled mountain range as the dream maiden decked up in lush green. Ratnagiri is nature’s golf course. From start to the horizon yonder, it’s all green - curvy and smooth. Laidback and lustful, she lies on her back inviting my gaze as I perch precariously inside a rickety MSRTC people mover. Who all should I thank for gifting me this experience of a life time? Gratitude is due to the Konkan Railway, to buddies Sangeetha and Anirudh, the rain gods, my mindset and the power within that makes me dream. It all happened on a Sunday afternoon, en route to Padmanabha’s o

They Don't Really Care About Us EVEN the usually benevolent sun god seemed irked. Else, he wouldn’t have beaten down on me and the many hapless souls queued up ahead of and behind me. The mission ahead of us was common. We have been exercising unity in diversity all through the three-and-a-half hours spent under the hot sun. The almighty shining bright up above us would have thought we all deserved his prickly hot rays in good number. Of course, he had a reason – or a handful of them in fact. Akin to those hapless flies to the wanton boys out there, we were there, all queued up, to be heard and approved by the masters that be, so that we could be granted a piece of laminated paper slab that would proclaim we are all Indians. Indians we would be, only if we have an electoral ID, we have been made to believe. All talk of a single UID had given me faith in the system, as I was made to believe that a UID card would be more than enough to prove I am Indian. Now, with a voter ID, a card