Change of address

I'm changing address and moving to wordpress, where I hope to be a more active blogger. My new address is zayanasifmp.wordpress.com. Same name, same me , but a different address . Bye :)

Remembering Aauppa

       I have been planning this post since the last several months,but due to multiple technical problems and the inability to arrive at the right words, it never quite materialized. This post is an obituary to my late grandfather Mr. Ahmed Kutty, fondly called 'Auppa' by all of us. It is a  late valediction,as he passed away last Ramzan,yet I do not feel anything strange in it, as the memory of Auppa is not something that threatens to blur or fade with time. It remains with me as strong and clear as though he still walks among st us, spreading his magical smile.
        Auppa was a a very,very,very special person. When I type this post,I feel like I have to use a different,stranger language because it is not everyday that you sing elegy to such a special person.Too many words well up inside me.
        He was one of those people who made others happy by instinct,not interest. More than any of the things he was proficient in, I have always wondered at his incredible skill at making friends. Because Auppa had friends Everywhere. From his old days back in Thirunelli, to the different hospital beds where he spent some of the last days of his life, he collected friends like other people collected souvenirs.  He never hesitated to strike a conversation, be it a train compartment, the "old men's gang" around his daughters home in Mankav or an unsuspecting Fabi Basheer sitting in her veranda. Not friends in high places,but simple men like himself. It was not an empty "friends' list" that would remain meaningless even when it ran to thousands. Each one of them was saved,remembered and cherished.
      Auppa was one of the best writers I know. If I possess any talent that might even remotely be called literary,I owe it to him. The beauty of his writing is stamped in the hundreds of letters he had written over the years. For most of us in the family, his name brings the image of his armchair,as he sat in his usual place by the window writing away letters to friends,grandchildren, nieces and who-not , hilarious letters that brought each of us a touch of home. The letters would never come again,but every scrap of it would be cherished by each of us who had ever received one, Allah willing.
     In all of the roles that life cast him in , he performed with a sincerity that is hard to find in these narrow times. As a son,husband,father, or brother, and above all as a human being, Auppa was an endearing individual. I do not call him flawless,because no man can attain that,and every man would always be inferior to the Prophet (pbuh).But I sincerely feel that in losing my grandfather , I have lost one of the most outstanding examples of a human being that I can hope to meet in my lifetime.
    "Inna lillahi va inna ilaihi raji'oon" .

What the B-Zone Produced Out of Me

My second experience with the Calicut University B-Zone arts festival produced two poems out of me,and to state a sad fact for me,thats all that there is going to be. The first one passed the selection test,but the second one did not impress enough. But I still post it because I feel that even though it did not fare well on comparison,they show in a small way that I have grown as a writer/poet. So,here goes.
By the way,we won the B-Zone. Again. :)

1) Yesterday.
 I Search;
 In the unreachable abyss
Of yesterdays.
I have dropped moments like marbles
Making no noise
As they roll away.
I look at the final knots of lifes rope
Wondering where the rest had gone.
The last few leaves left to fall
In the autumn of life.
Before death's winter would clothe me
In his cold blanket
And lay me to rest
In some dark alley of the earth.

I grope in the dark depths of yesterdays,
Hoping to lay hands on some memory
That Time forgot to take with him.
Some leftovers from the Past,
Anything,forgotten or cherished.
Days spent under the warm sun,
Or in the bosom of a loved one;
Days spent cursing the Time,
And how it was too plenty ahead.
Moments burned to ash
In the fire of life;
Scattered to the winds
Or left to flow in the tides of past.

Yesterdays appear before me
Like some tantalizing mirage
Like some beautiful child
Who smiles,but runs out of my grasp.
Chancing upon an old lost love
And looking into his eyes
Going back to my old playground,
I search,but they have diffused
Into the dust,
Walking away to infinity.
Days of unblemished laughter,
Holding my father's hand,
Sleeping in the crook of my mother's arm.
Youth was short,beauty shorter
Deep lines encroaching my face
Every fresh day,and
Dimples washed away in a tide of gloom.

But I forgot to look at how
I was strong of limbs
My hands not yet blue with veins
My legs not heeding commands
Of some unknown outside force;
But soon I lost them too
Standing helpless before life,
Who,like some harsh mentor,
Exacts demands and punishes me
For disobedience.

I look back time and again
For the lost pearls of yesterdays.
But they allude me,
Choosing to hide in some corner of Time,
Forever lost to me.


2. The Fall
(the topic was "water death" but I decided to name it thus, and based it on the Mullaperiyar issue)
 
The Water is going to die.
Like some huge ancient beast,
A century old,
He stands on his time-eaten legs
Swaying ever so slightly.
Holding onto his old limestone wall
Gasping for breathe,for air.

The village watches in mute primeval fear,
Its thousand eyes following
The slow rocking of the ill giant
Their hearts going cold,
As the dying giant looms taller.
The tremor of his faltering steps
Passing through their soil,and their souls.

The Water is going to die.
As he crumbles,his life snuffed out,
It will fall,the mighty corpse
On their hearths and their children
Unable to run,bound to the earth
By Time and Tradition.
Life standing still,to let death pass through.

A thousand makeshift tents
Surround the ailing Water
Their small voices thrown like stones
Onto his heavy,tired head
Faint echoes of the tornado down South
And the arguments of the chiefs
Over his spot of cremation.

The Water is going to die.
His ancient mother the Nature
Takes him into her bosom;
Trying to soothe his pain,
Holding his cold,sweaty hand.
But before her tear-stained face
He smiles,and slowly decays.

The wind strokes his damp hair
Kicked up by the fall of a hammer
From somewhere up the great North
His eyes quiver expectedly
And he licks his parched lips.
But the wind dies out,
His brow bathed again
In the sweat of the coastal sun.

The Water is going to die.
But the medicines are too expensive
Voices ring out from the makeshift tens
Demanding that the giant go slowly
To the earth;
- The rats have scourged the treasury,
And the money-box eaten to dust.

The small masters of the mighty beast
Who holds his fetters in their hands
They do sadly regret his poor health,
But the times are bad,so perhaps,
He could work a little more?
They shake the dying beast to his feet
His eyes blind with pain,his ears gone deaf
In the gushing roar of his death-knell.

The Water is going to die.
But he slowly abides his time
Turning spiked wheels in their pivots,
Its thump-thump matching
The rhythm of a million beating hearts.
Seeking release from his chains,
In a grand,sardonic Death.

Election Hunga(aaaargh!!!!)ma!

 One of the biggest differences between your 1st and 2nd year at college is that when the elections come around,you get to BE in it,and not just a (literally innocent) bystander. The difference comes not just from the fact that you don't just cast your votes but ask for them,but from the truth that you start to learn about The Game.You get familiar with the little tricks involved in elections,and learn to drive yourselves hard. To add to my rich experiences of life,this year I could be a candidate as secretary for the English association. I contested from the SIO panel,a small but honest and committed group. To tell the truth,campaigning for elections is not a very pleasant experience.First of all,you feel like a complete hypocrite for smiling and chitchatting with people you had not formerly tried to make any bonds with. This might not have been true for all the candidates,but it was painfully true in my case. Secondly,you realize that you are gradually becoming a complete pain in the *** for all your voters,what with the constant nagging and calling and request for votes. I tried to keep it as short as possible,but was then reminded that it would be a mistake. Fortunately for me,this year's campaigning time was really short. I cannot imagine the horrors of having to campaign for an entire week(sometimes more)!!!You make infinite number of calls,but happily get to meet and know a lot of people you would have otherwise had little chance of knowing. At least,in my case,the number of voters was limited,but it extended to hundreds and thousands for the candidates contesting for the general posts!

The polling day came around after what seemed like an unending week of phone calls,class visits,panel writing and running after people,added with deep prayer sessions,on  a sunny day. Unlike last year,there seemed to be greater weight in my actions when I voted this year,and my hands were trembling slightly,a feeling many of my friends shared. Standing on my toes the whole morning waiting for the voting time to end so that I can finally,totally relax,I somehow managed to stay around till exactly 12.30,when voting closed. To be frank,you feel a kind of relief even when results are not out because you realize that you have done everything there is to be done. We all went out and had a snack and juice,a party treat.

A lot of disappointment was waiting for us when the results did come out late in the afternoon. I was one of the causalities myself,losing(i m still not sure about the figures) to Mohammad Rineesh of 3rd semester MA English  My friend Roshni was another one,but she had not expected any victory,even though we all had. The biggest disappointment was our general secretary candidate Azad's defeat,by a really,miserably,small margin. But what we immediately failed to see in our shock was that we had managed to pull off a miracle. Not only did our candidate Amal win the Vice Chairman post,but Azad had got a total vote of 490 in a campus where only around 100 SIO workers were there,and the political scenario had been a completely dominated one. My friend Farzi was another one who could reap a victory this year from our panel. Even though we suffered disappointments,I really have to admire the fortitude with which all of them faced the results,choosing to celebrate over the miracle of Amals victory rather that mourn Azad's painful defeat. The whole result was a little topsy-turvy this year,with the usually dominant MSF winning the union by a hair's breadth.A kind of anti-MSF feeling was palpable in the air,and a lot of incidents took place to reinforce that feeling. But even when a lot of undesirable things took place for us,nothing was as unnecessary or lamentable as the fight that finally broke out over at the college,significantly more violent than the usual pushing and shoving. Whatever their political affiliations,it does not augur well when students who share the same campus air choose to take sticks and stones not just to each other,but even their teachers,who should be treated with a respect that falls nothing short of reverence. With this anti-climax,this year's elections offer all of us a lot of bitter memories,even as it had been an enriching and priceless experience.

Back In The Playground:)

Its just an incredibly indescribable feeling to be back with your old friends in your school,meeting again a midst the familiar sights and smell.We have got together a couple of times after graduating from school,once from school itself,but nothing can compare with spending an entire day in their company,walking through the same corridors,and eating lunch together again.You just feel helplessly happy,and want to treasure every single moment of it. And you never want to leave-not ever. Even romance and ogling at boys have a special pleasure when you do it from school,and I guess its because everything about school is so much more innocent than any other place of your life.It has got so much of a quality of home to it,that you always go back to it,no matter how far you have gone in life. And I did feel I was back home when I went back to school for our alumni meet on Saturday,3rd of September.Even though everyone of us felt that being an organized event,things got a bit too formal,I get a feeling that we would have been happy even if we have been told to sit silent,just talking with our eyes. I keep writing words,but the truth is that I am not able to describe this feeling inside me,this feeling of having a seized a piece of the wonderful,carefree past one more time. And it was added bonus to meet again the next day,for our classmate Aysha's marriage.I really missed the ones who weren't there on both the days. I only hope we get more moments like this in the future,and they are all there to add to their preciousness. And I hope that getting married or settled in life is not going to hinder our friendship,but keep it safe all through all our lives,something to treasure and rely on always.

Bidding Adieu to Ramzan

Exactly one month after my last blog in anticipation of Ramzan,i am writing my next one,bidding it adieu. It was indeed a month of peace and devotion,in a level that is impossible to find in any other month of the year. I personally think it is Ramzan,and not the largely non-special day of the celebrated New Year,that calls for real resolutions. Resolutions of this time are born of devotion and a desire to be closer to Allah,and such resolutions have infinitely more life than the empty ones we make in the beginning of January. All the things that usually take up our time in other days,seems petty and a respite from them is actually much appreciated,although we seem to think such things as indispensable then,like the television.
Of course,I look forward to eid,and I am not going to resent having breakfast and lunch and all other things again,but i am going to miss the charm of Ramzan too. Life and people are much simpler,and there is a huge dip in the level of bad feelings and bad talk. I only hope that i m able to keep justice to my resolutions and my Ramzan as a whole,by trying to relive its meaning in all the months to come,Insha Allah. 

Ramzan to Begin Next Month

The dear month of Ramzan is set to begin in 2 days at least,and I am looking forward to the time.Ramzan is a month of such peace and good-feeling and I could really use a dose of it.Its 30(or 29) days of getting back to my Allah,bonding with Him on a better scale and retrieving some of those lost religious fervour for me.I deeply hope in my heart that this month is really a month of profit for me in the afterlife,and the good feelings generated in my heart in my heart may prove influential throughout my life.