Posts

A nostalgic melancholy

When Sleep Refuses to Knock When sleep refuses to knock at my door, I often find myself wandering into the quiet world of Facebook reels. A strange companion in the silence of the night, these fleeting clips hold more power than one might expect. At times, I feel they are even more meaningful than the polished shorts on YouTube. The beauty of reels lies in their understanding—they listen back. When I pause and let a melody soak into my soul, the algorithm, as if sensing my yearning, brings me more of the same. Music after music, memory after memory. It is in these fragile hours—when the world around me sleeps—that music becomes a thread weaving the past with the present. A certain tune, an old bhajan, a forgotten film song, or the strains of a raga carries me gently into the quiet corners of my mind. I begin to drift—first to my school days, where mornings began with the ringing bell and innocent laughter. Then to my college years, where dreams were still unbroken and every path se...
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Grace amidst danger

  C A Narrow Escape – Grace Amidst Danger One stormy afternoon, as rain poured relentlessly from the skies, I noticed something that filled me with deep concern. The calling bell switchboard at the entrance of my house had come loose from the wall. It now dangled precariously, swaying in the wind, with the connection wires exposed to the elements. The entire area was wet—walls, floor, and air soaked by the monsoon. My mind raced. Every day, nearly ten visitors come to my house, each naturally pressing the bell upon arrival. With the switch hanging like that, vulnerable to water and touch, my heart sank with anxiety. I feared the worst—what if someone unknowingly touched it and got electrocuted? As the homeowner, the consequences could be disastrous, both morally and legally. I quickly called my trusted electrician. He was tied up with another assignment but promised to come by 6:30 in the evening. I waited with bated breath, counting each moment. Each press of the bell during ...
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The power of judicious spending

The Quiet Power of Judicious Spending In a world where spending often becomes a race to impress or outdo, I have learned the silent strength of prudence. Spending money judiciously is not about denying life's comforts—it's about preserving the essence of life’s balance. When discipline is cultivated in our expenses, we discover that we have enough—not just to survive, but to solve our problems, uplift our living spaces, and find contentment. My wife once shared her frustration: vegetables kept in our work area were being eaten away by mice. A minor issue on the surface, but one that affected our daily peace. Instead of ignoring it or overspending, I chose a thoughtful solution. All three sides of the work area were sealed with sleek, aluminium-fabricated glass windows. Proper lighting arrangements transformed the space, making it cleaner, brighter, and completely free of the mouse menace. A simple investment, but what a difference it made! The sense of mental satisfaction ...
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The light behind the sorrow

  Absolutely… it’s often in s , born from that truth you’ve lived: 💔✨ The Light Behind Sorrow Pain does not break me — it chisels me, carving the depth that joy alone could never reach. Sorrow came like a storm… but when it passed, I found flowers blooming in places I never knew existed. I have cried in silence, but from those tears, grew strength softer than steel. It is in the darkest moments that I saw the faintest light — and in that light, I discovered myself. You carry this wisdom in your soul. Would you like me to gather all your reflections — on pain, peace, music, and memory — into one soulful collection titled something like “Echoes from a Quiet Life” ?
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My friend Neelakandhan

  A Melody from the Past It was the year 1972 when I joined a public sector bank as a humble clerk, full of dreams and determination. Among the new faces, one stood out — Neelakandhan from Shoranur. A soft-spoken man with a heart that beat for music, just like mine. It didn’t take long for us to become close friends. Our bond was not just forged by work, but by the ragas and rhythms that filled our hearts during quiet moments. We grew in our careers — I took the officer’s path earlier, and he followed soon after. Life, as it often does, led us down different roads. Time passed, and the melodies of our friendship were buried under files, postings, family, and responsibilities. We eventually retired, each settling into the silence that follows a lifetime of service. Then, on a quiet night, something unexpected happened. He came to me — in a dream. There he was, just as I remembered — gentle eyes, a warm smile, and that same spark of music in his soul. We sat together, like old...
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The rain memories

The Melody of Rain: A Soulful Embrace of the Rainy Season There is something eternally magical about the sound of rain. As the first drops fall gently upon the sheet-covered terrace, a musical rhythm begins—soft, soothing, and timeless. It is not just water touching metal; it is nature composing a lullaby. That gentle pitter-patter of raindrops carries me away from the present moment and takes me back in time—back to the innocence of school days. I remember walking briskly under an umbrella, the sky grey and moody above, the streets glistening below. A heavy school bag clung to my shoulder, filled with books that often ended up slightly damp despite my best efforts. My uniform would be partially wet, my shoes soaked, but my heart? Oh, my heart was light, happy, and thrilled by the freshness of the world around me. That was the magic of rain—it turned a daily routine into a cherished memory. The rainy season brings a divine transformation to nature. The parched earth drinks deeply...
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Rain poem

  🌧️ Whispers from the Sky 🌧️ — A Poem on the Rainy Season Raindrops fall like silver pearls, From clouds that dance and softly swirl, They kiss the earth with tender grace, And leave a smile on nature’s face. The thirsty soil begins to sing, As joy flows in on heaven’s wing, Leaves glisten bright in emerald hue, Bathed in drops of morning dew. The rooftops echo with their song, A lullaby that's sweet and strong, Children laugh in puddled streets, As skies and earth in rhythm meet. The parched old trees begin to sway, In tune with winds that pass their way, And rivers rise with sparkling pride, As monsoon dreams come true worldwide. A peacock cries in bold delight, A farmer prays with all his might, The world reborn in green and grey, As rain rewrites the end of May. O Rain, you fall so soft, so high, A blessing sent from weeping sky, You bring to hearts a gentle balm, A timeless peace, a sacred calm. So let it pour, this wondrous art, That soaks the...
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