Thursday, May 2, 2019




My literary friend VP Gangadharan from Australia, a master storyteller with a strong social purpose, has come up with a collection of 8 short stories...titled “HORROR SCOPE,” which I wish a befitting success. Btw, its Foreword is by your friend Atreya Sarma. Read the book, and you will certainly enjoy the stories.
HORROR SCOPE | A collection of short stories | VP Gangadharan | Authors Press, 2019 | ISBN 978-93-88859-43-1 | pp 58 | 





Monday, March 9, 2015



Suicide of a Highbrow
 VP Gangadharan
Echoes of distant past haunt me…

March 12, 1974.

Tucked in the envelope was a pink paper with little scrawls that shook me to the core.

Sam expired!

– My brother.

It was the incredulity of the untoward that gave me the real shock rather than the earthly evanescence of an Adonis. How on earth could I believe it?

Hardly a month passed since I had his last letter which as usual carried his sentiments of affection and the sudden emergence of a fretful concern – a letter that he used to ride roughshod over to the proposed engagement of our youngest brother John and his fiancée Rita, a Hindu girl who had chosen her career as a professional model. Though Sam had spent the last few years of his studies in the States, his intellectual pursuit did not yield to recognise his brother's engagement with a modelling lass. This relationship appeared to have been thus taken by Sam: "The culmination of a cavalier's delirious chase for owning a curvaceous product that has been whimsically displayed in commercial market places" – scribbled across the page in a few lines were a brother's disgruntled, noiseless utterances which irrefutably projected the profile of a moral zealot. In his last letter he mentioned he was grossly engaged in the preparation of a thesis on Genes, specifically on 'Dominant inheritance', which he expected to complete by the end of September in the same year. This was his second major work since he obtained a Doctorate in Genealogy from
Harvard University.

With fairness and decency my commonsense ceaselessly maintained an impartially moral housekeeping. Therefore, when they announced their wedding I made a point of sending a greeting telegram to John and Rita:

          Now you are one
          In love
          In laughter
          In living
          And everything in life
          Becomes twice as beautiful
          Congratulations for your sublime union!

The telegram had hardly reached my home town in Kerala and here came an implacable note of death with a gentle tap of a postman at my apartment door.

Solemnisation of marriage was to be held in Thiruvananthapuram, the death occurred in Mumbai, and I was in
Singapore. Both the deceased and the bridegroom are my brothers. We were more like friends than siblings since we stood apart only a couple of years by birth.

Rather preoccupied with my work commitments, despite my earnest willingness to accept his persistent request, I was unable to attend my beloved brother John's fondly awaited wedding ceremony. Notwithstanding, I proposed an elaborate celebration with carousal at my residence having invited a select band of friends and distant relatives. I drove home with a variety of foreign liquor to boost the evening party on the day of marriage. Surprise gifts for my wife and daughter had been included in my prioritised shopping list for the resplendent celebration of the big event. A flicker of astonishment rose and died in her eyes when my daughter gleefully received my gift. With her usual giggle she said, "I wish there were many a marriage to come…"

Up came the lunch call. At the lunch table mother and daughter were engrossed in their waggish discussions related to their gorgeous new dresses I bought for them.

My thought, however, took wing gliding merrily up and away right across the ocean, the tiny rivulets, the stretches of lush green pastures and the coconut palms. The chimes of the church bell with its rhythmic hymns echoed in my eardrums. Amid the glow of countless candles, on a flourishingly decorated wedding chamber there stood my brother dressed like the prince of a province. Sporting a radiant smile he held his fiancée who stood beside him gracefully reciprocating with her professional charm inflated with ornamental opulence…

Notwithstanding, I had been fluttering in the lambency like a firefly with no sparkle left on its own wings. Astonishingly though, incidents foreboding danger were quirkily happening in my phantasmal mind…

A quaint knock at the entrance door of my apartment gave me a jerk to my dazed dreams.

I grumbled: 'May be a friend of my daughter, or that nosy Chinese couple in my distant neighbourhood.'

Irresistible to a thrust of ire, I murmured to myself on my way towards the door: "Who the hell is that?" And I sprung open the door.

The rumbling gave way to an instant silence.

A grim-faced Chinese bloke in khaki uniform stood right in front, stretching a pink sheet of paper. Seemingly unperturbed and winking one of the shrunken eyes, he said in Malay, the local lingo: "Ma'afkan saya untuk manggangu tuan. Telegram untuk kamu. Salin di sini." (Sorry to disturb you, Sir, here's a telegram for you. Please, sign here.)

He didn't know he had a melancholy duty here to deliver with a melancholy note.

Two spitefully dolorous words pierced my eyes, ears and throat: "Sam expired."

I felt a blow of a chilling wind, strong enough to extinguish the glow in my spirit. All my dreams tumbled!

Suddenly I felt bewildered and lost as if the ground beneath my trembling feet had been cut off. I stared out into the street until the outline of the messenger's moving figure on a motorbike dissolved into the density of the buzzing city street.

I sobbed like a child. My wife and daughter soon joined me wailing uncontrollably.

We quickly started for black clothes. I was precipitated into a sentimental idée fixe to dress myself up head to toe in black.

Certainly death follows birth.

But, should the pall of destiny befall this handsome intelligent young man so soon? And, should it be on the eve of an auspicious event of nuptials that was scheduled to be celebrated?

Message was immediately sent out to all my locally living relatives and friends. Arena of a forthcoming celebratory dinner party suddenly looked like a funeral parlour waiting for the arrival of dead body.

The noiseless corridor of my apartment was starting to fill with gentle footsteps of grim-faced visitors…

A requiem mass was arranged in
Queenstown Sacred Heart Church.

Calling by the name of the deceased the church priest Fr. Martin, I imagined, would recite:

          Grant that we who are nourished by His body and blood,
          May be filled with His Holy Spirit,
          And become one body, one spirit in Christ.
          Through Him,
          In Him,
          In the unity of the Holy Spirit,
          All glory and honour are yours,
          For ever, and ever –
          Amen.

Condolence message was published with an obituary in the late edition of a leading newspaper.

What might be the reason of his demise?

The reason really did not matter.

– Sam is no more!

The quietude of the following days had been unendurable…

Ever since that staggering untoward befell, it had been as if everyone in our apartment had forgotten to talk. An eerie silence was creeping through every space of it and holding back every pace…

Unabatedly I thought of Sam who once held all the hope which a gift of intelligence ever proffered, from whom all our family members expected a groundbreaking future…

All at once, instead of holding the embodiment of his knowledge up, he frivolously surrendered his whole being unto a graveyard-pyre…

Over the phone, my uncle's crackly voice fumbled. He was straining heavily to summarise the dramatic episode in his laconic way. Stifling his ageing mind he spoke:

"One cannot survive the stakes of God's penultimate punishment, for we are to face the consequences of our own deeds. The marriage had to be postponed indefinitely due to the unexpected end of Sammy. Johnny and your sister Martha have taken the next available flight to Mumbai to collect the dead body."

The very thought of his mortality gave me the air of a great loss that of someone who personally meant a lot to me. All my frantic efforts failed miserably to shake off the macabre sight of a silent journey of someone very close to me in a long box to oblivion…

Sooner than expected another call came from home. This time the caller was the bridegroom.

"Thank God…" He was speechless for a short while. Dear bro, believe me! Though the purpose of our flight to Mumbai was to pick up Sam's body we were utterly astonished and boundlessly rejoiced to find him alive. This most weird exploit had been a wangle Sam orchestrated to have had stopped my marriage…"

"What?" Taken aback, gritting my teeth I bellowed back in the face of paradox.

It's an outrage to my sense of being.

"Disgraceful! An orchestrated madness," I rebuked.

It summed up the whole picture of a brilliant academic's coruscating future into an absurdity – pitiless and beyond redemption!

Wasn't it a theatrical presentation of a body of knowledge to the world of social science from a genealogist, rather an enactment equating his entire genetic profile to a bundle of scarred tissues? While he performed such an odious act, what sort of neurological signals he might have received in his brain? Was he carrying a Pandora's Box in his zany head while he was morally bound to be a rousing healer to raise the newlywed couples' human spirit with his benign blessings, at the least, being an elder brother of outstanding credentials?

I could not name my sudden emotion and had no words to state its elemental cause.

The sea breeze started picking up its momentum. I got a glimpse of those thin branches of a pine tree in the distant park being waved like jubilant arms.

Surprisingly happy though with such a fortunate upshot, ironically I felt hollowed in mind.

Strangely, I received an unexpected stab of agony…

Sam is alive, no doubt now.

But, to me he is dead-meat.

Thursday, March 5, 2015

I invite you, my dear friends, to read the thought-provoking and ingenious poems of the eminent Malayali writer K Sachidanandan appeared in the Muse India online publication's 10th Anniversary Special (February-March issue) - the POETRY section at: www.museindia.com. It has been really an enthralling experience to me to go through his poems- Wonderful! 

My story 'Suicide of a Highbrow' may be read on the FICTION section of the same publication.




Thursday, September 4, 2014

LET ‘MERIT’ RACE WITH ‘MIGHT’ AND WIN...



WHAT..?
This is an article I have written in response to a heated debate held in
Sydney, through the pages of a literary magazine, about Racism:
 
WHY..?
I couldn’t be reticent. Therefore, this is simply a reflection based on my personal experience living in
Australia since my arrival in 1977, beseeching the response of some of the enthusiastic participants of the debate, who hailed from India.


LET ‘MERIT’ RACE WITH ‘MIGHT’ AND WIN...
 

“Do not ask to have your life’s load lightened, but for courage to endure.
Do not ask for fulfilment in all your life, but for patience to accept frustration.
Do not ask for perfection in all you do, but for the wisdom not to repeat mistakes.
And finally,
Do not ask for more before saying “Thank You” for what you have already received.”
-BRENDA SHORT

Dear Brenda Short, I do imbibe a few drops of elixir for my life’s sanctity from your sage words and am prompted to say a hearty ‘Thank you’ to Australia for welcoming and facilitating me to build an independent and secured life.

I felt my human spirit replenished yet again when I noticed the Kerala Nadam bestowing its lovely tribute to the late Leelamony by dedicating the latest issue of its literary publication. Notwithstanding, its vitality suddenly drained off when I saw a debate on racism that was incongruous with the context.

I have been however curious enough to read an inviting statement from the debate: “Australia is not completely devoid of racism and that though mostly concealed it is still alive and active in the minds of a few people....”

Several decades ago, being an immigrant starting to learn about this part of the world almost from a blank slate I began my life in Australia. Like anyone else in the olden days I had a broad range of issues to grapple with in order to adapt myself to the environment and get accustomed with the people living in this country. So much I have learnt from a new chapter of my life by keeping my inquisitive mind transparent and the passageway to it wide open. Setting out without further ado, I can readily gather that
Australia, once a colossal murky island used for dumping the extradited culprits by British emperors, now a proud country of renaissance is determinedly continuing its endeavour to become a multicultural nation free of racism locally as well as globally. In every letter its national policy is spelt with high acumen in this respect.

‘A few people’ that’s referred to in the aforesaid statement are the remnants of once transgressed generation- progeny of a huge bunch of felonies with youthful street-culture that existed rampantly in the olden days mainly in the uncivilised working class suburbs. Those few people, now in isolation, perhaps give vents to their ungainly frustrations by typically divulging their inner demons just like the Shiva Sena fanatics do in
Maharashtra, one of the Indian States. There are many lunatic sectarians who still continue demonstrations of their vacuous brainstorming nationally and globally. Should we care?

Kerala Nadam supposedly heralds the literary voice of Kerala. Ironically the voice took a sudden crackling twist and brought forth a journalistic debate on a rather sensitive issue even though its own readers have stealthily acquired natural immunity from their home-brewed contamination of infectious communal anarchy. More often than not we tend to question the other fellow citizens’ integrity while deliberately masking the abominable convictions of our own native land in this sensational topic. In anyone’s term it should simply spell: HYPOCRISY.

Abysmally, we are still struggling to escape from the slavery of false pride. We deny our moral responsibilities towards other fellow human beings and hence discreetly put the onus on the latter ones perhaps owing to our well assumed, self-centred, lofty expectations. Having become the citizens or the permanent residents of this nation, I reckon, we ought to pledge our sincere attachment to this country first. We can’t wipe our hands and walk away when adversities occur. We have abiding moral duties to accept our obligations, and necessarily show empathy and tolerance towards the misgivings of other compatriots. Irrespective of what we perceived, whether it’s right or wrong, as young Chris Alwin James opined, “We all have to get to know people and experience and appreciate different cultures; and that’s surely an experience that
Australia offers.”
He couldn’t be clearer than what he put in a nutshell. Isn’t it time we all start getting into the crux of the point and move on?

What I could decipher just as an overview of all the comments written by various writers was a sort of ‘racist slur’ clearly aiming at some white Australians. As I attempted to scan through the contemporary social fabrics of other nations including that of our own nation of origin I couldn’t help translating the whole debate into a mere gossip in the window. Those so-called white people’s hospitality towards nonwhites is being laconically described as bland and un-welcome. To me it looks like a talk about an investment in which we lost our shirts. Isn’t it going to be an augmented reality to the onlookers?
Which silvery shores we are intending to make our headway to for our next heavenly destination, I wonder!

If you chisel the lumpy crusts off the conglomerated human population settled on these shores of this little continent, there you will find appearing the oblivious underlay of socially common and predominantly sustainable mono-cultural behaviour of individuals. With a typical tribal affiliation they will be found to have clustered inseparably within their comfort zones. There are invisible barbed wire fences too erected between different community groups forging on all the unwanted social inhibitions. Delusive grandiose has prompted to create ornate human dimensions in order to secure undue advantage. Such rigid confinements in effect sever the body of mankind making it fragmental and socially enervated. You can call it as racism, or tribalism, or feudalism, or whatever you like to name.

If we look back to the reality the question verily will arise as to why we have left all our beloved kith and kin to settle in a new continent of entirely different culture and lingo for the sake of financial freedom having given up the seemingly divine social freedom that we claim to have enjoyed in our country of origin. Before we migrated to this country did we bother to be aware of these potentially adverse situation and supposedly unsettling experiences, which we now denounce and are fraught with? Sure we haven’t suddenly reached an island without a cause or reason. We all talk about our great experience, knowledge and wisdom but without the actual size and scale of its dimension. We discuss in full volume about the ethnicity but we are disinclined to modify our culture to embrace gainfully with that of others. The reason being our dogmatic perceptions and religious beliefs are never redeemable. We fear to redefine or attune with our moral views even in this rapidly changing clime and conditions. On the contrary our traditional practice or customary rituals are often found to have turned to be absurd to the Western culture. We set our domain within the four walls of our home. We write assays by quoting others’ sage opinions on racial discriminations but paradoxically we don’t even go to attend our own community meetings and mass celebrations. Therefore, in effect, we utterly fail to be socially interactive even with the very oriental communities, let alone with that of the occidental counterparts. The situation being so, how on earth will we be able to reorient and blend our oriental culture with that of completely different occidental one?

Contrary to what we speak here about, the governments in our country of origin still want the citizens to fill up the names of their respective castes and sub-castes in addition to respective religion in most of its formal submissions. I do not know what form of discrimination this practice implies.
When we advertise seeking suitable alliance for our sons or daughters in a marriage bureau we stipulate the caste and sub-caste of the required partners in order to match strictly with that of ours. Seldom, we go for mixed marriages. More often than not, we have our family names (surnames) named after our respective castes. I am as yet to know what this practice implies.

I am glad that Thomas Jacob has shared some sensible thoughts about the causes of systemic imposition of social hierarchy levels by the imperialistic and feudalistic activists and the subsequent changes in human behaviour. He rightly identifies the egocentric prejudice as the root cause of the malicious behaviour of the so-called racists.

Whatever the case may be, the human race needs equity. This can be achieved only through mutual acceptance of humanity. For this to happen we need to have better understanding about each other. As an educator Dr. Ann Benjamin stated, education is the key to attaining a prolific outcome in bringing up the egalitarian feeling in our conscience. Education is not merely for academic knowledge but for the intellectual and spiritual knowledge, which has to be taught right from Kindergarten, she clarifies.

Twelve years on, I vividly remember an indigenous woman carrying the flame representing
Australia, the host nation, to light the Olympic cauldron at a park named after her- Cathy Freeman Park- in Sydney. Days later when she finished her gold-medal run of 400metre race the whole nation seemed to have lost a couple of heartbeats. In irresistible jubilation the deafening voice of the crowd rose up in the stadium. Punching hands in the air they chanted: “Aussie.., Aussie.., Oi, Oi...” Filled with patriotism the enchanting voice of millions resonated in the heart of a proud nation for a long while...

Australia now in my view is fairer and an open sanctuary for better life for millions of people from various regions of the world. Ironically though, in the history books it was placed as a remotely situated continental island with murky prison-cells. So, let us now use our yardsticks to truly measure its enormous progress and the status.

Monday, May 14, 2012

Horoscope Turned into Horrid-scope

A Match made to the Horoscope....?










Though belated, Sukanya has now got the resolve.
     Over twenty-odd years she has been going through consuming angst that welled up in profoundly bitter tears which trickled down into oblivion – the tears that once held out an eloquent testimony of a girl’s fate rewritten! A combination of fear and loathing provoked a blind rage in her, eventually drying up every drop of those tears. Emotional feelings being materially parched, a schism opened up between her sentiments and obligations to the familial root. Perhaps cursing her own imbrued fate that was predestined by the crass bigotry of her conceited custodians ultimately she decided to stomp off the fold.
Humanly suppressing all the innate cravings of a full-fledged youth she has been all the while asking for only one favour, justice to the rule of nature- virtual beggary to the social fairness. Time and again she desperately pleaded to lift the heavily hanging mantle coerced upon her having been deprived of a matrimonial companionship. Any endeavour for emancipation was inexorably precluded by the hide-bound society virtually stalling a thriving youth in the rigid confines of conventional fetters for she happened to be born amidst a bunch of fundamentalists.
No less than four well-regarded marriage proposals she had received with sated consent, the latest one being from an Adonis. He too was ruthlessly discarded from the wed lock proposition by her fanatic father.
You ask: Why, anything wrong with the boy?
Not at all! He is a beau ideal with an immaculate background overall, has a Doctorate in Psychology, practises in Ireland having established his own clinic.
You wouldn’t wait for the next query: Did he like the girl?
Indeed, he did.
What then is the fuss all about, you wonder!
The answer is simple: Horoscope!
You must be kidding, you retort.
Not, at all.
Well, then please unravel the conundrum, you shout.
After a long pause you are told: Apparently he has ‘Chovva dosham’
So what?
Stigma!
The proposed girl became the victim again. Her fanatic parents blatantly rejected the proposal. Her mother couldn’t be blamed since she had no educational background nor had much exposure to the outside world. But her father was well versed in academia. He had been a Dean of faculty of Sociology, in Ottawa University. The paradox of the whole myth is that his eldest son, chip off the old block, a prodigy of Harvard University, had been engaged in wedlock with a girl of a perfect horoscope. The young wife, an embodiment of her passionate husband, died of brain cancer. His second wife, another discovery with a perfect match of horoscope won after a relentless search, abandoned him after little more than a year leaving behind a mentally retarded progeny. The child was born in immaculate astrological conditions claimed to have ideally belonged to a perfect star.
Having gone through a series of nightmarish events of her adulthood she grew weary and often licked her wilted lips. Her lips trembled when she recollected those lines she once read somewhere:
‘Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday... If you spend your life hopelessly waiting for the blue bird of happiness to fly over you....’
And she was now starting to think she had had enough. She was determined to venture out of the murky corridors of her past. Summoning all courage she took a daunting decision to pick her pen, and started writing on her father’s letter pad with tremulous hands... As she finished the last sentence, the tears she had been struggling to hold back suddenly trickled, wetting the page....
Leaving the written letter-pad open under the lamp-shade, with tears in the eye and solo bidding wordless goodbye at the gate as ears shut against the yelping dog’s unanswerable plea behind the corroded iron bars of the squeaky gate, she strode briskly from a colossal pulpit of dogma devoid of sanctity....
Dear Mum and Dad,
Kill me, I am beckoning you... Here I am, still lamenting at the inevitable intersection on the road of life not knowing which way to turn, after a bloody long, perturbed, wait. I am drained out with life. I need to seek some stimulus to my tired soul, brain and the body. Whimsical tales of days gone by with lot of teeth-gnashing and hand-wriggling will now remain just as worthless memories to me.
At last, I reckon, I have found my way... I know I have to break away the unwieldy shackles once and for all before I continue my journey. I know I have to hurt your feelings by doing just that, but forgive me. Nonetheless I need your blessings all the way through my pursuit of self-effacingly simple but a meaningful life that I yearn to capture...
Before I write anything further, let me ask those who took the spiteful decisions to reject all those marriage proposals brought forth by many a fond lover in the light of Horoscope match, the enigmatic practice of foretelling future events by looking at the stars and planets. Given that the practice well agrees with the logic of all related science, be it of Yesterday or Today, being a victim who carries a mutilated soul I dissent with might and main:
Who has prepared this diagram of the heavens? And what accuracy can one claim and expect from the person or persons who originally drew this?
To draw this supposedly most complex diagram and related charts, what were the basics of extremely complex calculations and conditional criteria that are directly applied in those predictable (may it be probable) outcomes in real life? How was it possible to contrive such precise benchmarks in order to predict all the future events in one’s life, presumably due to the influence of the particular star’s position to the planet and their interactions at the time of one’s birth? Is there, by any chance, an involvement of divine power?
Given the optimum accuracy of the position and the calculations of the Star and the Planet measured at the ancient time and the resultant conclusions being derived at that clime and condition of the aeon, how one can so positively place full faith at the present context? More so when we find ourselves in a new era that has lost the continuity of close and constant trace of movements of stars and the planets extant up there in the orbital paths of almost infinitely boundless galaxies?
Does it not necessitate that we now trace precisely where the current position of that particular star is in the constellation to reassess the absolute causes imparted on the life of the one who is said to have been subjected to bear this impact by the sheer timing of his/her birth?
The light emitted from a star, as it is scientifically established, takes millions of light-years to reach the earth where we are born and survive, not to mention the impossibility of defining the length of that time within the tolerance of even 100 years. This being the globally accepted absolute reality how on earth, by any logic, can one relate the period of one’s birth within a matter of hours to the star to be able to construe the effects that are induced to one’s life so convincingly by that particular star, hence precisely corroborate the person’s destiny?
Then again taking everything that astrology claims for granted, what guarantee do you have that the one who wrote the horoscope was authoritative and truthful, and what he/she wrote was alright in the first place? Why are his/her analyses or the interpretations and the subsequent conclusions not questionable?
What if there happened to be a blunder in the originally written horoscope that was found to be impossible to trace back? Doesn’t this mean due to the bungle the subject person is forbidden from getting married to a girl of his choice - an act devoid of pragmatic consolation that can inevitably mount to be a disgraceful act against God’s wish?
I am not agnostic nor a nihilist. I don’t dare to totally denounce the mythical follies of ancient customs and the ardent followings of the millions. But I do attempt to analyse the pros and cons of that ancient social system and its relevance in this contemporary social infrastructure. While I try to hold the whole story in a positive light, keeping all the objectives firmly in mind I fail utterly to find an answer. When I look at the outcome everything seems to be placed in a total imbroglio.
I don’t want to proselytise you at all by unfolding my perceptions and the views I hold in relation to our religious beliefs and practice. I am only trying to highlight the potentially harmful elements of our otherwise theologically enriched religion. Whatever may be the case, the effects of your beliefs were implosive. They have irreparably devastated my life....
And, I do ask standing upright on this mother-earth for a convincing answer to my earnest queries from someone in society who is capable to honestly do so.