Saturday, June 6, 2009

Chinnan’s Memory

* This is my first attempt at story writing.Praying for forgivance in case of mistakes i start this adventure.

Rain had merged in the boundaries of land , paddy fields were a virgin green, crows were announcing arrival of a distant vistor, Chinnan, the gnarled figure clad in saffron walked the narrow village lane drenched in the afternoon rain…
Manayile Thodu (a small brook ) was overflowing with waters of aeon.Chinnan got into the water , packs of small fishes swam in to relish the remnants of incomplete voyages on his feet ..Chinnan laughed at the sight … “I stayed away from the Ganges , smoked grass in that eternal land of pilgrims , I went to Kanyakumari , stayed away from the rock of Salvation ,i watched the sins of night hidden by city lights …never did I see these small fishes,these small watery beings…” .Small paper boats made in colors of dream floated past him..Children living up must have made these small floats.Years back Chinnan had left behind his small boats in search of big ships,noisy ports ,multi colored flags.
Chinnan walked past the Thodu to reach his home.
Plants of Hibiscus turned more bloody in the rains , the old Tulsi swayed in the Eastern wind , a feverish cat sat on Grandfather’s old chair , photographs of Grandfather holding his old gun , uncles in their convocation dress , wedding photos of aunts still hung on the walls , a small wicker lamp was lit at the steps ,doors were wide open..Chinnan crossed the steps to reach the inner room to see Pappachi lying on her bed ,surrounded by big bottles of herbal potions. Chinnan sat next to his elder sister in that room that smelt of herbs , reminded of bigger trees that had been uprooted from within. ..
Chinnan held her hand to take her to those days when she smelt of blooming flowers, when she sang of lands of love , when she dreamed of warriors , when on her skirts she painted white swans .
Pappachi gave up in front of death , she went away floating on colored paper boats .
Chinnan left the home .
He would never see the small fishes again.

8 comments:

Radhee said...

simple n sweet:)
MT yude aa kunju kadhakalile oru naermalyam kaanam ivide:)

loved those metaphors!!you r a queen of it....keep writing more:)

minu said...

de first attempt..dont turn it into de las one female..
gud one...waitin for better ones..

Go said...

I read this the day you wrote it. but was too quick a read and i was too short- on time. read it again today. and now may be i see. i usually always think that shorter stories are better masterpieces than entire novels in itself. coz of the plot. nothing is more gripping. i loved this story for the imagery. :) as in all that you write. the thodu, the fishes, the pictures of uncles in convocation hats. it reminds me of a house i know. almost any house i know back home. so everyday. so beautiful.

Go said...

and yeah. keep writing you female!! :)

kcfloyd said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
kcfloyd said...

You should write a novel divya..i'd buy a copy no matter what! These striking metaphors remind me of Arundhati's ayemenem and the whiff of freshness that she brought to indian literature!

Adheesh L P said...

keep em comin, lady. you wouldn't believe how many times i visited this page hoping to see a new blog

ashwinsudhir said...

You should write in malayalam, will wait for that :)