blogdecjunior

[blogdecjunior]

subra- now a corporate employee

നമ്മടെ ടീംസിലെ മെയിൻ മുത്ത്മണിയായ ഹരി സുബ്രഡെ ചിരകാല സ്വപ്നമായ ഒരു ജോലി, ഇതാ ടാറ്റാ ടെക് ഇല് സെറ്റ് ആയിരിക്കുകയാണ്.

ആഹ്ലാദിപ്പിൻ!

ഒരു പരീക്ഷ ത്യാഗം ചെയ്ത്, ഒറ്റക്ക് കോയമ്പത്തൂർ വരെ പോയി നേടിയ ഈ ജോലിക്ക് നല്ല വെയർപ്പിൻ്റെ മണമുണ്ടാവും - ഉണ്ടാവും അല്ല ഉണ്ട് - മണമുണ്ട്.

പല റെക്കോർഡുകൾ തകർത്തിട്ടാണ് ഹരി മോൻ അവസാനം ഈ ഒരു ഇതില് എത്തിയിരിക്കുന്നത്. ഒരു സെമ്മിൽ ഏറ്റോം കൂടുതൽ തവണ കോയമ്പതൂർ പോയ ആളും പുള്ളി തന്നെയാവും. പിന്നെ ഏതോ ഒരു ഹൈവേയിൽ ബസീന്ന് ഇറക്കി വിട്ടപ്പോൾ രണ്ടു കിലോമീറ്റര് നടന്നു എന്ന റെക്കോർഡും.

ഇൻ്റർവ്യൂ ന് മുമ്പ് മോട്ടിവേഷൻ കൊടുത്ത ക്ടാക്കൾക് സലാറിടെ ഒരു ചെറിയ ഭാഗം തരാം എന്നൊക്കെയാ പറഞ്ഞെ. നോക്കട്ടെ.

അടുത്ത പോസ്റ്റ് ചെലവ് കിട്ടീട്ട് ചെയ്യാം. അതുവരെ ബൈ.

#malayalam

[blogdecjunior]

Sreeja- A note about a semester-long frustration

A culmination of a semester of frustration, useless work and knowledge. What sphinx of useless coursework bashed open their skulls and ate

up their brains and imagination?

Sreeja! Hosage! Deadlines! Probability and unobtainable sleep!

Sophomores screaming under the stairways!

Seniors needing therapy!

Old men with ADHD!

Sreeja!

The nightmare of Sreeja!

Sreeja the loveless!

Mental Sreeja!

Sreeja the heavy judger of students!

Corridors that echoes with screams from 2003.

Sreeja the incomprehensible homework!

Sreeja the cross-registered soulless classroom of sorrows!

Sreeja who still lives in 2003!

Sreeja who comments on our work culture!

Sreeja whose soul is iterative math problems that the world doesn't need anymore!

Sreeja who categorizes students as 'good' and 'bad'!

Sreeja who's PhD is in hammering my mental health and stealing my time away.

Sreeja who makes it really easy to hate herself!

Dark visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies!

Sreeja who wants to make sure that students fail!

Sreeja who wants to continuously evaluate!

Sreeja who wants more than 50 attendees in her class!

Sreeja who wants the absentees to call her! Sreeja who 'forgets' to write about the person did the evaluation!

Heavy judgements! Boasts!

The whole boatload of daily bullshit!

Hereth I lie, beneath the starry skies,

Watching the other batches sing and dance in the rain,

New notifications in the assignments tab await,

To be turned in by the same file I turned yesterday.

And I look away, looking for answers,

for the homeworks, problems and my state of being.

"What have I done, to experience this bad luck", I ask God,

and I continue pouring some dirt over myself. ---

this is inspired from the song Moloch

---

[blogdecjunior]

My Three Hundred and Forty Seventh Crusade with Ernesto Guevara

After scrolling a bit through my phone, I turned around to Che and said, "You know what Che? This might be something that is exclusive in India. Something that you might've not encountered on your South American trip."

And he was like, "Well, what is that?". Ernesto was in the middle of his reading, holding the book by his right hand and the holding a cigar on the other. His Spanish accent accidentally slipped out of his mouth when he asked that. The smoke from the cigar made a ghostly effect of him and his body for anyone sitting across him, as the afternoon sunshine slowly covered him and the room. He still didn't take his eyes off the book.

"So, I don't know how do you phrase it in English, but there's a thing in India, well, definitely at my place, where the groom goes out to the bride's, as the first thing before an arranged marriage, just to check her out. It's called ‘Pennukaanal’ over here. It's just so cringe."

He opened his arms in disgust and wonder. Our reaction was mutual. "Wait, what the hell is that?" He slowly caressed and fixed his hair. And put his book away. "Now you have my attention. Explain." "You heard it right, my man. It's a kind of a common practice. They just go to her place, talks to her and checks the whole place and family out, because it's a matter of 'honour'."

"Ah, hell." Ernesto sighed as he now had one more thing on his list to revolt against and overthrow. He sat back, with a slight smile on his face, probably because he was loving the feeling.

"Here's what I think we should instead."

I drew myself closer to the table.

"The wannabe bride should wear a mundu, the finest she could get her hands on. I'm talking, the whitest mundu ever and get a 1986's Black Indian Ambassador and put the pedal to the floor on a Sunday morning or whenever she feels right, obviously with a Ray Ban glass. She should drive to the man's place, kick and open the gate and scream 'Sekhara, erangi vada ingott', more like 'Come on out, you filthy animal' ".

That was enough to throw Ernesto off the hook. He was laughing his crazy. He put his hand on his chest to ease himself. He accidentally dropped the cigar onto the floor. "You are a madman, mate.". He was busy laughing and forgot to complete his sentence.

"I agree, it's disgusting. But, let's try something... better than that. It's probably going to slow down and die, soon. Nothing to worry."

He then opened his book again and tried to find where he stopped reading.

And I went back to scroll through the phone.

But the cigar was still on the floor, almost died out.

[blogdecjunior]

three cybres

The word that most perfectly describes the Cybre Lab is slightly evocative and might end up inherently misleading.

Intangible dust of an another era rests in its hallways. Dust from anonymous men and women, which now feel disgraced and refuse to rise and fall on your weak, shallow steps. The air breathed by the same anonymous men and women, which do not flow freely through your amateur lungs as it used to on the former.

But, there are two or three Cybre Labs, or it's better to say, two or three ways the lab can be summoned and experienced

When The Mentor dropped his seeds, they sank effortlessly, at the eventual permanent home of his chosen ones. The ones who are willing to leave their nomadic circling through the world, came like Alexander The Great,  conquering Persia, to farm, cultivate in this chosen land, where the gale from the Arabian sea regularly strike down the copra from the long array of coconut trees, which bordered the beach from the northern horizon to the distant southern horizon.

With their brows set high, and their minds set sharp, they saw their society grow into something which can only be described completely by the word 'empire', ever upwards from the muddy backwaters where it was primordially rooted. The converted nomads set to expanding their knowledge and Cybre, fortifying their name, and their place: Cybre Lab.

The looked up and saw glory in their skies. This Cybre is asking you to became a warrior like any other, to club in hand, defend, fortify and expand the life and freedom of the people of bayos.

Right beside it, another Cybre can be summoned. This vision arises mournfully from the fortresses destroyed, burnt and beheaded by the wrath of the people in Cybre. The violated rules, the sacked thrones and the unintended pathways. This Cybre invites you to contemplate about the sins and to remove your armour and fetch some water to clean the wounded bodies of the opponents, who fell.

And yet, there is a another Cybre. A vibrant building with colored roofs, which can be found exclusively on the websites, web blogs and web forums. This Cybre is asking you to feel proud about this conquest. Like an American tourist with a sports t-shirt walking beside the ancient pyramids of Egypt; to pass over things superficially, to look back at how we have come and to relax under the glorious sky that was made from scratch. This version of Cybre is an inn. It's just a motel  where you stay for a while, thank for the hospitality with an extra 50$ apart from the bill, and leave.

Each of these Cybres can be summoned, admired, lived, loved and looked upon separately.

To each of these Cybres, we shall dedicate our stay.

#three cybres

[blogdecjunior]

Geethamma and her impenetrable fortress of temperament.

I don't know what Geethamma is doing right now, I but I can sure tell you what she had done in the past.

This story is set in the 2015s. Yes, there's Lulu Mall and everything in Edapally and all, but there's no hotel in Bolgatty Island yet. La Biennale di Muziris hasn't happened yet. The faces weren't covered with masks yet.

Still, you can picture a multi storied apartment near the backwaters, overlooking the cranes and whatever of the Cochin shipyard. And that's where Geethamma lives. With her two daughters: Sandra and another one. I forgot the other one's name.

Anyway, this is not about her daughters, but about the sheer strength of her command.

I'm not sure whether this is entirely a Indian concept, but over here, when people visit some other people with children, they gift them some kind of stuff to eat: fruits, biscuits and in this case, cardamoms.

I'm not entirely how they presented it so that Sandra was really captivated to try it, nevertheless, she hadn't been introduced to this form of gold from Idukki before. And cardamoms soon became her Idukki Gold.

She'd buy a whole packet for her own, lay on the couch and finish it all, in one sit.

The words about here selfless love reached even the distant lands.

People even started bribing her in the form of cardamoms to make her do something.

And Geethamma knew she had got to do something.

...

One a dark rainy evening, Sandra was back from school.

And Geethamma sat on the chair near the balcony overlooking the backwaters.

Geethamma has a pair of old pair of glasses. You think, she is a old-fashioned woman? No, it is not like that at all. Geethamma, in my opinion wanted her daughter to realize that something big is looming.

She asked her to sit down.

The living room is a mess, so is her room. Sandra took her jacket off. Her hair was wet from the rain.

'Your head looks terrible. There's some shampoo in the bathroom cabinet. Go and have a wash, and come back'

Sandra took this as an advice. She quickly washed her hair and came back to see her mother in the exact position as she were before.

Geethamma took a cardamom from Sandra's silver bowl, which was there on the table. She gave it a good look and finally tossed it into her mouth. She stared over the tall blue cranes of the mighty Cochin shipyard and listened to secret tides of the port's distant past.

Her expression was perfectly tranquil.

'How was school?' She began, to break the ice. But her eyes were still locked at something outside.

Sandra is surprised at her vehemence. Geethamma let her words hang in the air and the air hung low outside the balcony.

Geethamma took another cardamom. She just looked at it closely, but never ate it. "This needs to stop.", she says at last. "You can't just keep having cardamoms forever. I am banning it."

Her voice ripped through the thin air, and the roof. Sandra chose not to take this as an advice.

A flurry of anger runs through her. Strong enough to take her by surprise. She picks up a cardamom and throws it over the windowsill.

There were a million other ways to put this, Sandra thought. She was whipping herself into a rage. Violation. That's the word she was looking for. Yes, this is an outrage.

But concurrently, she couldn't believe this. It was too simple. She again searches for the word. Something it would take days to get to the bottom of, she had pulled it off under a minute.

Anyway, this was her mother's temperament. Her temperament is not going to change. Her temperament is fixed.

I've never seen Geethamma. But I'm certain that she reveals nothing. I'm sure that she knows her daughters' insides more than Sherlock Holmes knows Baker Street.

And she knew it too. Her maneuver was perfect. A headshot.

The sky broke into a small shower. Almost like Geethamma was secretly controlling it.

Geethamma leaves her. Almost like if she yielded nothing.

...

Days later, Sandra realizes that she had also gotten rid of cardamoms even from her cousin's place, where Sandra might visit.

Sandra now stares blankly at the cupboard which once served the finest cardamoms. On the cupboard now, is turmeric, ginger and spices. A disgrace, she thought.

#a bad dream

[blogdecjunior]

A midsummer night

Submission for the DEFCON 28 Safe Mode Story Contest.

You can also read it here

*makes a joke about JS*

11:49 <cjunior> Going to post it on #memes when it's a bit populated.

11:49 <voldemort> 😂

11:50 <cjunior> gonna go go and write a psychological thriller set in cybre one day with $skywalker as main.

11:50 <grid_lock> psych

11:50 <cjunior> where he shouts at vold.

Ren knew what his car looked like and probably had his car license number clearly up in his photographic memory, so he had no trouble in finding Benji's car from the parking lot. The clock would tick past about 11 at night when Benji gets back home from his work. Ren knew that too, that's why he was already here in the parking lot at around 10:45, in his sky-blue Porsche 911, listening to Johny Cash on the radio, slowly rocking his fingers to the lovely rhythm on the wheel, while his palm rested on the gear knob. It was all like an '80s film. 'It's almost 11, mate, where are you', He said to himself. He was impatient. The Johny Cash song moved to a one from the Stones. The distorted voice of Mick Jagger gently caressed the car and the good night. It was warm, and it was summer. Which meant, the clouds were gone and the sky was clear again. A night as serene as it can get, with the luminous moon gleaming and the white twinkling stars giving their special harmony on the black, but well-lit sky. Finally, a tall, lean guy came walking from the office building. He looked western and clearly like a follower of the bohemian ways. Dressed like 1994 and 1974 together, with a jacket, that'd instantly make him the hippiest person in the room. And with a pair glasses, with which one could probably see through the afternoon Delhi smog. The Porsche caught his eye, indeed, but he casually walked to his car, a yellow convertible, put his laptop bag in, and drove out of the lot. Everybody loves a game of cat and mouse, he must've thought to himself. He hadn't had turned the car into a sedan, and the warm breeze swept through his long, brown hair. Yes, it was summer. But it felt like it could rain. It was a Friday night and Benji felt like he should put the pedal to the floor and try to make that trouble inside his head go away. The breeze was almost soothing, almost like breaking free, but barely escapism. He sighed deeply and drove on through the freeway. On the rear view mirror, he saw Ren and his Porsche, clearly following him. He sped up, and took a hard right turn to the upcoming exit to the suburbs, that would've shocked anyone passing by. But, there was no one. It was just Benji and Ren and the dull streetlights. Benji raced through the twisted curves. The only thing that stood still to him was the sky full of stars. He drove about a mile, and settled. The dust still hadn't settled. Yet, the summer breeze refused to take them away. Ren walked cross to Benji's, still seated comfortably in the driver's seat, through the choking dust, looking like a hero, and put his elbows on the windowsill. "We need to talk." --- At Benji's, everything was as cypher-punk as it can get. Dark, with cables laying all across the floor, old routers with their hoods off and broken Game Boy boards. Benji poured a drink to a glass and placed it in front of his guest. Then, he settled on his armchair, placed his arms on the sides of the chair, leaving an impression that he would soon have the whole world under his command. Still maintaining eye contact, Ren slowly held the glass to his nose and smelled it. "You prefer gin to tonic?", he said, breaking the silence of the night. "Yes, Ren. Old habits", he replied after taking a seat and pouring a glass for himself. "I know about you picking Johny Cash and vim over anything, now gin over tonic?" Benji shrugged, helped himself with his glass and sat back. Probably after reminiscing about the good breeze he had just drove through, Benji quickly pulled his mind together. "The purpose of your visit?" "Lately, I have some trouble sleeping." Things weren't looking good from the start of the year. First, there was the reformation. The major part of the members of the team demanded equality amongst all the sub groups. It was all for the good, it was the sign on the times. Now there are team meetings before each CTF, more communication and more growth. As the head of the team, he embraced the transition and welcomed to take more power and stress off him and onto the team. It was like the beginning of a new era. But, as responsibilities became more distributed, performance withered away. The numbers weren’t looking good after Volga. Cyber was pushed into the top 100s in that one. It wasn’t so great in the other one either. It was like all something went wrong. It was almost like the decline of Roman empire. "And you know, Benji, there are some nights where I even feel like there's no point in carrying along with it." "You know about weeds, mate?", Benji replied, with a very serious, yet funny look on his face. "Weed?" "Yeah, there are some species, no matter how hard you trim them or poison them, they continue to grow back?" The air over Benji's hung very low, concealing everything the two men spoke. "You have to plough up the top soil and pull out the taproots", he said, giving his undivided attention to the man in front of him. A bit befuddled, Ren took his eyes off to his watch. The watch read 11:45 PM. He looked outside through the window. The suburb lay inebriated with the subtle star shine, with city lights at the far horizon. Ren got up and walked to the door, after seemingly finding answers in that view, but his mind was still disconcerted. "And get some sleep!", advised Benji, as Ren turned the front door handle. --- That night, midsummer, Ren came rushing in to the Cyber lab. The stars were now concealed with dark bellied clouds threatening to shower down at any instant. The sky seemed to be replicating his state of mind. He was running, or it appeared that he was. His hair smelled of sweat and dust, moreover sorrow, in an overwhelming extent. His face was red with his brows sunken and covered with layers of sweat, from running and his thoughts. He wiped his sweat off from his brow, opened the big wooden door and walked in. ‘Finally, the Cyber Lab!’, he must’ve thought. All of his sadness, anger and his urgency seemed to dissolve away in the subtle tranquility of the Cyber Lab. Where the binaries get spaghettified; the warzone. Although, there were other people and his mates in the lab, at the moment, he felt like he was alone. All of the times he walked through the dark corridors of the Cyber Lab alone at night, he had always felt a certain kind of feeling, like in no place else. It’s peaceful and quiet. Like there’s a spirit who watches all of us from above and leads Cyber through hard times, through the right path. More of like a community server that anyone worthy can make use of, but magical; Community-spirit. A spirit that always pushes you forward. The Spirit of Cyber. Taking in his presence and the feeling, he continued walking, to the far end, where the Cyber Lab’s main hall laid brimming with silence and darkness. Him walking through the corridor, this late in the night, under the series of lamps, over and over again must’ve made him feel like a ghostly spirit. Meanwhile, sky had started to break down with sound of thunder which echoing through Cyber, scattered and eventually dissolving away into the mystery that surrounded it. Cool wind was rushing in. Ren stopped near the long table, just by the ESP8266 which collects the attendance data. Beep. Beep. Imperion was there, grid_lock was probably there, zer0k was definitely not there; Usual Cyber. And the lab grew cold, eerie. Somebody from the end of the table, where he usually sits, leaned back, in a familiar gesture, as he was expecting him, but was met with no reply. That was Balthazar. To him, it looked like this was going to be one of those late rainy nights with CTFs; Late nights with nightmares.They'd buy biscuits, chips and rarely, a drink to keep them contained and usually Balthazar gets over the line first. "You know, I'm something of a Raja, myself. You can link me to the old dynasty of the coastal city." And then he'd talk on and on about how would've been powerful if the times hadn't changed, totally drifting off from the purpose of having the drink, which was to help himself in solving the challenge. A part of Balthazar thought and wanted it to happen that night. Ren must've went through the same thought too when he shot a good look at everybody. He could see the feeling on Balthazar's face. He carelly looked upon his mates and then at his hands. That’s when one of his mates saw that he had been holding a can of a sports drink, in his hands all the time. Something you don't normally see. But there he was, Ren holding a drink and the whole lab became spontaneously became madly silent and restrained. He was still looking at the can, now like his whole life depended on it. Mad images rose and fell in his mind. So did anxiety. He increased his grip on the sports drink, trying to contain his anguish, closing his eyes and trying to concentrate, just before he threw the can at the wall next to The Room Of The Beeping Things, where the can exploded like a bomb, with the drink reaching as far as the Operating Systems Security Lab, and the sound reaching much farther. Nobody moved a muscle, and silence echoed through the dim walls again. It was confusion. And the team looked at him in awe. The rumbling sky made way to a wonderful shower. Little droplets rained down, dissolved and slipped away. At that moment, Ren had a wonderful fantasy. What if the river was flowing right through the window? All the fish, sting-rays and the mud would all flow through the window and he would be able to watch it just from his station. And what if there's a river flowing through the Room Of Beeping Things? You could watch the river swell during the monsoon and maybe try your luck in fishing, just from his station. Watching the muddy water flow away, Ren would call "Benji!". He wasn't calling. He was a screaming. While the cool wind continued to rush in, to that midsummer night. The sky seemed to be replicating his state of mind. The silence and the darkness got intertwined and melted away into ether, eliminating all individuality and bestowing the team with absolute focus. With the sound of thunder, every once in a while. Still, the man’s face was distinct in the shadows. Everyone could clearly see the spark in his eyes and the gleam of his glasses. “You call this productivity? You call this… a team?”, he bellowed in a voice very powerful, like one possessed. He had never took his voice so high. It was the beginning of something Cyber hadn’t yet seen, well at least the present Cyber. “This isn't what Cyber is about.” He looked around. His voice was now almost getting buried in the thunderous clatter of the rain. He took his glass off, sat down, took a moment for himself and began. The thing Ren does best. It was about to happen. Few rain drops slowly rolled down the windows and immediately fell away. The sky seemed to be replicating his state of mind. I knew that I was going to hear something I’ve heard people say a million times to me, again but this time, its going to lay a deep impression within me. Perhaps, it’s in the way he was molded. He was never the one for hollow thoughts. The word on the street was he was in the Olympiad or something similar when he was young. What puzzled everyone the most is the infinite karma in settling in this place helping people, after thousands of adventures, while patiently waiting for the moment of great reckoning to arrive. It was like in those American movies, where the head coach walks into the locker room, delivers a speech that lifts the hearts of everyone in the room in order to go that extra mile and achieve the impossible. Climbing higher and back down, blending into everything Ren said that night. And that’s what had happened. It truly was. Maybe it was a prophecy, or The Spirit Of Cyber, who knows. Now, I remember his glasses and his grin, right before he ended. I remember his voice, now a distant murmur, waiting to come back into my mind on the cold rainy monsoon nights, when I need it the most. And in those nights, the words will come back and envelop me again. “You are as useful as I am. You are just not aware of how useful your contribution to the society that sacrifices you, is.” It’s a reminder. To walk on with your tensed jaw and clenched fist till the very end. To fight in the beaches and the landing grounds. To go till the end. Until you feel your nostrils dilate with the smell of sweat and blood. And feel liberated.

La fin :3

#psychothrillerwithvaderasmain #vaderappreciationpost #story #blog

[blogdecjunior]

top unexplained bayos facts

I had some boost(cricketer Dhoni's secret of energy) and found my mind in some different states:

1) The Friday Night .dat File

Everyone who had left their laptop in the Cybre* Lab on Friday nights know about the Friday Night .dat File. It's a mysterious .dat file which is found in their Downloads folder on Saturday morning. It obviously has even  its metadata encrypted. The word on the corridor is that this was a known phenomenon since 2010 and the Forensic experts of each year try and fail to find its origins. Just like it did for the past ten years, it continue to ridicule the whole team of today.

2) The Silicon Party

When all the boys, girls and binary people of bayos goes out to imbibe the good life on bayos-night, the laptops host their own party. They open themselves up, ssh-s into ubuntu.amrita.ac.in and think about how a great a year, it has been. They even share stories to show what they had got done the past year, because they trust each other and then they thank their users, the mighty researchers for not making them a grumpy ol laptop which gets opened only for doing academics or Netflix, but making them join the glorious pursuit of technology.

Nobody knows how this party started. Or when it ends.

They also share their kernel space memory somehow, and apparently, the laptops love the feeling.

Then, they play the game ‘Who can open the most Chome Tabs‘. Obviously, nobody has beaten a Macintosh ever, but everybody is sure that they will be beaten on the Year Of The Linux Desktop, which is never.

Party's over when the Windows Vista from the MBA head office joins.

3) The Room Of The Beeping Things

Next door to the Cyber Lab is the room that has the beeping things. Our beeping system is inpsired from the Apollo 11 Command Module. Some of our beeping items additionally have red lights, buttons or small screens with green stuff on and there is one that you can put a blow into. Using the machine at the eastern corner, we are also able to enhance nearly any image by over 0x4141414141 times.

We do this by hanging a picture of RMS on the wall.

4) The Plot de Revolution

When the team was crusing through the CTFs merrily across April of two thousand and twenty something, everybody except the first years' recieved an email from an untraceable source. It talked about a uprising, with the first years' marching in with crimson flags in their hand to launch a revoltion to remove aristocracy from the holy lab. It talked about them marching in with the Exploits of Tomorrow on one hand and the flag on the other, smashing the main wooden door, taking the arsiticrats in detention, giving back the power equally, to the members of the club.

The arisocrats were scared to death by recieving this email and is said to have piled up weapons that could destroy operating systems running in any architecture made to date.

But it was a phony email and nobody showed up with flags in their hands.

There was no Revolution.

but had it already began?

*mispelled on purpose, as the word ‘cyber‘ is too basic.

#facts

[blogdecjunior]

adventures with light- vol 1

Trapped in quarantine like everybody, was cjunior, looking for the pipe he had smoking all night. He seemed to have lost himself in these days of house arrest, mostly because he could not go to the lab where he usually always was. The perfect chain: mix of classes, lab and sleep was broken.

The loop was broken.

He got home, eventually and felt like there was less of him in everything. Even the towers of books he had all around him failed to give him happiness. The electronic keyboard too, on which he used to jazz up the fine evenings with some old 80s jazz, sat in melancholy.

And when Light, walked up the stairs of the dingy lodging, she passed the well-remembered door, and was seized with a captivating desire to see what cjunior doing again.

When cjunior Was Returned!

She twisted the door handle and walked in as it was one of those doors she could open anytime, to find the room brilliantly lit with sunshine and his bird Nigella, a parrot from the blue lagoons of Mauritius, slowly enjoying the breeze of the lovely March morning, and the man walking slowly with his crook-handle umbrella.

With hardly a word spoken, he quickly pointed out to the armchair with his umbrella, which was now set up facing the armchair he usually sit, hinting a chance of a rare exchange of words.

Light shot a sharp look at the tall, walking figure, through her bold frames expecting an eye contact, which should have happened minutes ago. Her face, with her curved nose and dangling earrings, appeared blonde in the morning sun. She let her body down in the armchair, with her left leg above the other, with her jet black hair laid neatly upto her shoulders.

The smell of wine and expensive perfume replaced the smell of burnt petromax lamp.

She was the woman.

She wasn't as feminine as most of the women was, but was more intriguing, beautiful in a way only some woman can be. These looks combined with her visible omens of compassion and kindness, which continuously radiated from her face, must've made the unseen, invisible godesses who look from the skies, cloudy and dispersed.

Then, stopping by the balcony and forming a dark silhouette over Light's hazel eyes, he looked over at his unexpected guest in absolute, chivalrous fashion.

"Quarantine suits you,"

He commented, breaking the silence, which almost appeared like a physical blow to Light.

"Doesn't it?", added cjunior, slowly leaning on the umbrella now.

She placed her arms on the sides of the chair, leaving an impression thay she had the whole world under her command, and replied,

"The less human in life, the less hassle", with a tone of advice and slowly gave out an evil, seducive smirk.

The British accent in her had grown and had started to conquer the way she spoke her vowels.

He flashed a gleaming smile somewhere above his beard, which was trimmed to perfection.

Still, Light's radiance was all over the room. Her authority was evident. Like everything in the room was also hers.

And then she killed the parrot with her bare hands.

Ripped it into shreds with her long fingernails.

Blood from it's mangled corpse dripping down her white kurti.

Still she looked captivating, entrancing.

Even as the parrot drew the last breath in her delicate small palms.

She didn't look it in the eye.

Because she remembered the old Chinese saying: 'Never look in the eye of the man you are going to kill.'

And as she came for cjunior, bloodlust in her hazel eyes, he knew his end was near.

But her couldn't stop watching her, her face twisted into an emotionless mask.

Her dress dripping with pure blood.

And her small delicate hands with guts hanging from them as then began to wrap around his thin neck.

He knew his end was near.

Still, cjunior chose to just stand there. Before all of this bloodshed and drama, still thinking to himself, 'What a woman!'

And he got lost in her hazel eyes as she ripped off his throat.

~

She could see it all in her mind. How she could get Nigella first, and then go for the man.

But she couldn't do it.

because she was the woman?

In his eyes, saw reflections of memories. It was there and it was so clear. All of his bloodline, childhood, just like her mother had said in one of those bedtime stories, when she was small.

She remember having braids and her mother's black hair slowly untie in the midnight breeze.

"Each of us carry the memories of the ourselves within us. It's in our eyes, you just have to look closely."

Her mother's soothing voice echoed endlessly through the now ghostly walls of her mind.

She couldn't think of doing it anymore. She couldn't rip his throat off.

She just stood up, still maintaining eye-contact, walked over to the man and and stood right before him. There was something particular about her stride.

The air hung heavily over cjunior's.

- to be continued

#quarantine #coronavirus #corona #covid19 #story #storyblog #blog #writeblr #storyteller #blogdecjunior

[blogdecjunior]

Menon Sir was sleeping in

Welcome to Chapter 5 of the Amrita Purana.

If you want to read the old chapters, you may click here .

It was half past nine and Athul Menon lay in peaceful sleep.

Away from the busy, crying, depressed, sweating undergrads who were dying to to make it before 8:50.

All of his roommates had left, most of the men from the corridor too, except some, who drops the first hour, most of the days, and still manage to swing around into the next semester.

I call them, 'The Brave Men'. They, who seem to be defying the '75% attendance law' (the universal law that makes college happen) are The Brave.

Well, we're drifting off a bit here, folks. The point is: How could Athul Menon sleep so peacefully even though it's half past nine? Is he one of The Brave?

I wouldn't imagine that. He's the one who said he had 'a lot of problems', one fine morning, from the hallway. That got a weak chuckle out of me at that moment, but I spent the whole night awake thinking about what's wrong with him and whether the problem was me. Oh my gosh, that was one hell of a night.

We're drifting off, again. Sorry, sorry.

Okay. Athul Menon. Sleeping. Half past nine.

What I'm saying is, it's impossible. The guy does all sorts of crazy stuff. The guy had taken a leave from the first period a couple of times last semester. He said, he just stayed in bed one day, took a really long hot water bath. He was so late and hence there was none of his psychopathic roommates to bug him. Later, he slowly walked to the Biotechnology Department's canteen, ate a Dosa, whilst the others woke up early to the chronic pain, that is Sahyadri mess hall's Upma and Pongal, which looks to me like someone threw up into that big basin, rather than breakfast, to help start my day.

A feast for my eyes, indeed.

And another time when me Azuran, Aky and Swami was vibin' in the canteen, I remember Menon just walking in all alone, ordering a coffee for himself, asking me politely when I'll be going to the lab, and telling me that he'll be late as he's going to Vallikkav to get towels.

Man, that sounds sad.

Walking alone,

all the way to Vallkkavu,

to get towels.

Damn.

I swear, I'll get to the point this time.

Okay,

deep breaths.

Athul Menon was sleeping in.

Maybe he was just depressed of doing things he has to, over and over again, like an infinite loop. Maybe that's why he was sleeping in.

But there was water.

Wait, what? Water? How? That's also what the warden, Mahesh, who happened to be unbelievably sober at the moment, had in his mind, while inspecting the rooms, to find, shout and mentally poison someone who was being late, or too lazy (I mean, tired) to go to classes.

But there was water. Let me just put this Shakespearean way.

Water! In the hallways!

I always wanted to do that.

Ahem. Furious, Mahesh kicked open every door he could find, one by one, and eventually opened Room number 134 to find our Athul Menon sleeping like a log. That too, in the lower bunk bed. If you ask him why he always picks the lower one, he’d say “I hate the upper ones“, but we obviously know why,

The night where he made a pact with himself on never sleeping more than a feet off the ground was a lonely night where Amritapuri lay inebriated with darkness.

Probably after a depressed day and several rounds of Rainbow Six Siege, Menon slept on the top bunk with no handrails on the sides of the room opposite to his, tumbled down to the floor and magically escaped with no broken ankles or wrists, where his fellow mates who were sleeping on the floor suffered from pain and later, nightmares, not even decades of therapy could remove.

I swear, that’s the last time I...

very deep breaths

Mahesh grabbed his heels and pulled him awake.

"How come there's water in my corridors?"

He didn't even care about Athul being late.

Puzzled and barely awake, Athul wanted to reply 'It's because of your past life karma', like every one of those old swamijis of the Ashram does, including the horny ones, when they are asked a question they can't answer, but just decided to go with

"I don't know, sir."

Ominous silence began to wrap up the shallow ceilings of Prahlada.

"Maybe someone spilled his hot water?"

But he added, after that awkward pause.

Water getting spilled over wasn't an uncommon phenomena in Prahlada. It was pretty interesting in the first semester, where clean water itself was a rare phenomenon, but now, people would just walk over it as they're walking over some hot lava.

"No, that water tap has broken again! Frickin Munnabhai."

Mahesh immediately took out his phone and dialed Munnabhai. "Munnabhai, idhar aavo", he babbled in what was left of his Hindi vocabulary from his military service.

After hanging up, he was slowly walking around, like he was having a panic attack.

"Why is my hostel wet!?”, he bellowed, and his voice echoed through the thin, sad walls of Prahlada.

The sound of a creaking door was heard and out, came a Telugu guy, in his uniforms, slowly, partly unsure of what he's doing.

"I spilled the water, sir, it was an accident."

I don’t know whether even a notch of embarresment or guilt went through the man’s mind at the moment, but, Mahesh, politely said it was alright and asked him to get going.

That's the life Athul Menon Ser leads.

Only he can get his sleep disturbed by the warden and get dumped by the warden, simultaneously.

Sed life.

By the way, do you realize that you've read this far and still doesn't know why Athul Menon was sleeping in?

-cjunior

✨

oops! sorry! i hate cliffhangers too :P

#amritapuranam #athulmenonsir #story #funny #blog #tumblr #writeblr #storyblog #storywriter #writer #my writing #writing #travel blog

[blogdecjunior]

ശ്യോ!

ഇതിപ്പോ അമൃത പുരാണത്തിന്റെ  നാലാമത്തെ ലക്കം ആയി. കഴിഞ്ഞ ലക്കം ആസ്വദിക്കാൻ ഇവിടെ ഞെക്കുക. 

ഇനിയിപ്പോ ബിൻജ് റീഡ് ചെയ്യാൻ, മൊത്തം ഒരു ലിസ്റ്റ്  ആയിട്ട് വേണെങ്കിൽ ഇവിടെയും.

അപ്പൊ, തുടങ്ങാണ്.

***

വൈകുന്നേരം, ആ ആഴ്‍ച്ച ഒടുക്കത്തെ ചെലവ് ആയിരുന്നാലും, ഹോട്ടൽ സാഗരയിലെ ആ, മൂലക്കുള്ള പ്ലാസ്റ്റിക് മേശയുടെ ഒരു വശത്തിരുന്ന്, വെയില് കൊണ്ട്, അസുരന്റെയും സ്വാമിയുടെയും കൂടെ, കടയിലെ ആ അപ്പൂപ്പൻ ചേട്ടൻ അടിച്ച, ചൂട് ചായ ഊതി ഊതി കുടിച്ച്, മെസ്സിലെ ഫുഡിനെ കുറ്റം പറഞ്ഞും, അടുത്ത ഒഴിവ് ദിവസത്തത്തെ സ്വപ്നം കണ്ടും തീർത്ത  എന്റെ രണ്ടാം സെമസ്റ്റർ കാലം.

അന്നും, ചേട്ടൻ ചായ കൊണ്ടുവന്നു മുമ്പിൽ വെച്ച് തന്നു. ഞങ്ങളും ചായയും ആ ഇളം വെയിലിൽ തിളങ്ങി. തുളച്ച് കയറുന്ന പഴം പൊരിയുടെയും ഉള്ളി വടയുടെയും ഗന്ധം.

പതിവ് കാഴ്ചകൾ.

കണ്ടാൽ തോന്നും ഒരായിരം വർഷം ആയിട്ട് ഇതിങ്ങനെ തന്നെ ആണെന്ന്.

"എടോ, നമ്മൾ ആലോചിക്കാറുണ്ടോ, നമ്മുടെ റൂമിൽ പണ്ട് ഉണ്ടായിരുന്നവരുടെ കഥകൾ? അവർ ആലോചിച്ച ചിന്തകൾ? നമുക്ക് മുമ്പേ നടന്നവർ? ദ ഓൾഡ് കിംഗ്സ് ഓഫ് അമൃത?"

***

ഇടയ്ക്ക് സുഖവിവരങ്ങൾ ചോദിക്കാാനും, ഗുഡ് നൈറ്റ് പറയാനും ഒക്കെ വരാറുള്ള ആദിത്യയോട് ഞാൻ ഒരു ദിവസം, "ഇന്ന് നല്ല ശോകം ദിവസം"  ആണെന്നോ മറ്റോ പറഞ്ഞു എന്ന് തോനുന്നു. ഇന്നലെ ഞാൻ ഉച്ചക്ക് വെള്ളം കുടിച്ചിട്ട് വരുമ്പോൾ, വരാന്തയിൽ വെച്ച് മൂപ്പര് ചിരിച്ചുകൊണ്ട് എന്നോട് ചോദിച്ചു:

"ശോകം ഒക്കെ മാറിയോ?"

Random Acts Of Kindness എന്നൊക്കെ കേട്ടിട്ടേ ഉള്ളു.

ഒരു കോസ് ഫങ്ഷൻ ന്റെ പോലെ പൊങ്ങി താഴുന്ന എന്റെ മനസ്സ്, അപ്പൊൾ ഒരു നിമിഷത്തേക്ക് നിശ്ചലമായി, പിന്നീട്, എക്സ് ആക്‌സിസ്സിന് സമാനമായി പോകുന്ന പോലെ, വേനലിലെ ഭാരതപ്പുഴ പോലെ, ശാന്തമായി.

അറിയാതെ ആകാശത്തേക്ക് നോക്കി ചിരിച്ചു. മൂന്നാം നിലയിൽ നിന്ന് ആകാശം അനന്തം. ദൂരേ പക്ഷികൾ. സുന്ദരമായ ഭൂമി.

സന്തോഷം, സന്തോഷം.

എങ്ങും ആനന്ദം. 🌈

ഒരു കാര്യം ഉറപ്പാണ്. മൂന്നാം നിലയിലെ നരച്ച ചുമരുകളും ഉണ്ട്, ഒരുപാട് കഥകൾ പറയാൻ.

***

"സുകുമാർ അഴീക്കോട് എന്റെ മുത്തശ്ശൻ ആയിട്ട് വരും."

ഇത് കേട്ടപ്പോൾ, ഞാനും സ്വാമിയും ഞെട്ടി. കാറ്റൊക്കെ വല്ലാണ്ട് വീശി തുടങ്ങി. ദേവാസുരം സിനിമയിലെ പോലെ, ഇടിവെട്ട്. ഭൂമി പോലും "ന്റ കാവിലമ്മെ" ന്ന് അലറി, ആകെ കുലുങ്ങാൻ തുടങ്ങി. ആശ്രമത്തിലെ ��ൂറി തകർക്കുന്ന കാക്കകൾ കലപില ശബ്ദം ഉണ്ടാക്കി പറന്നു പോയി.

അതേ! സുകുമാർ അഴീക്കോടിന്റെ പേരക്കുട്ടി  (നേരിട്ട് ഉള്ള റിലേഷൻ അല്ലെങ്കിലും) എന്റെ കൂടെ കമ്പ്യൂട്ടർ പഠിക്കാൻ ഉണ്ട്!

അദ്ദേഹവും ബെയ്പോർ സുൽത്താനും വല്യ സുഹൃത്തുക്കൾ ആയിരുന്നതിനാൽ, വൈക്കം മുഹമ്മദ്  ബഷീറിന്റെ പല പുസ്തകങ്ങളുടെയും ആദ്യ പതിപ്പ് ഇങ്ങേരുടെ വീട്ടിൽ ഇപ്പോഴും പൊടിപൊടിച്ചു ഇരിപ്പ് ഉണ്ടത്രേ.

അദ്ദേഹം കോഴിക്കോട് പോകുമ്പോഴൊക്കെ വൈക്കം മുഹമ്മദ് ബഷീറിനെ കാണാൻ പോയിരുന്ന യാത്രയുടെ ഓർമയ്ക്ക് എന്ന പോലെ, ഇവരുടെ കുടുംബം ഇടക്ക്‌ അനാഥമായ ബെയ്പോർ സുൽത്താന്റെ കോട്ടയിലേക്ക് പോയ കഥകൾ ഒക്കെ, ഇങ്ങേരു വിവരിച്ചു.

പാത്തുമ്മയുടെ ആടും, ഉപ്പുപ്പാന്റെ ആനയും ഒക്കെ ഞങ്ങളുടെ എൻജിനീയറിങ് പഠിച്ച് മരവിച്ച ഹൃദയങ്ങളിലേക്ക് തിരികെ വന്നു.

പലയിടത്തും വായിച്ച് മാത്രം കേട്ടിട്ടുള്ള, ബഷീർ ഇക്കയുടെ വീട്ടിലെ, പുസ്തകങ്ങൾ സൂക്ഷിക്കുന്ന മുറിയിലൂടെ നമ്മുടെ ഗഡി നടന്നു പോയിട്ടുണ്ട് ത്രെ.

"ശ്യോ!" 

കഥപറച്ചിൽ തുടർന്നു. ഞാൻ അത് കേട്ടുനിന്നു.

***

അരുകിൽ നിറമണിയും പടവുകളിൽ, കുളിരൊളി  തഴുകും നിളയിൽ,   സ്വരമൊഴുകി ധനുമാസം ഋതുമതിയായ്,

നീലരാവിൽ ഇന്നു നിന്റെ, താരഹാരമിളകി

✨

#amritapuri #amritapuranam #amrita #basheer #hotelsagara #sagara #pravi #engineering #malayalam #life #kerala #college #story #stories #writeblr #lol #kidu #polisanam

[blogdecjunior]

ലെകോൾ ചെമ്പക : ഒരു ദിവാസ്വപ്നം

അമൃത പുരാണം - ഭാഗം 3

കഴിഞ്ഞ ഭാഗങ്ങൾ ആസ്വദിക്കാൻ ഇവിടെ ഞെക്കുക 

കോഡ് അറ്റ് അമൃതയിലെ  ഹതഭാഗ്യൻമാർക്കും ഹതഭാഗ്യവതിമാർക്കും മൂന്നു നാല് മാസമായിട് യാതൊരു വിധ പുരോഗമനവും കാണാത്ത സ്ടിതിക്ക്, സ്വാമിനാഥൻ സാർ അവർക് രാവിലെ മൊത്തം സ്പെഷ്യൽ ക്ലാസ്സ് വെച്ച അന്നാണ് ഞാൻ ആദ്യമായി ശ്രീരാമന്റെ അടുത്ത് ചെന്ന് ഇരുന്നതെന്ന് തോനുന്നു.

കഴിഞ്ഞ പ്രളയത്തിൽ ഇടുക്കി ഡാം തുറന്നപ്പോൾ ഒഴുകി വന്നതാണ് എന്ന് പറയപ്പെടുന്ന, കട്ടപനയുടെ സ്വന്തം അഞ്ചു മിസ്സ്, ആൾഡെ മാസ്മരിക ആൾജബ്ര ലെക്ചർ എടുത്തു കൊണ്ടിരിക്കുമ്പോൾ, ബോറടി അസഹ്യമാം വിധം വളർന്നപ്പോൾ ആണ് അങ്ങേരു എന്തോ വിഡ്ഢിത്തം എഴുതിയതും, ഞാൻ "നീ എത് ശോക സ്���ൂളിലാടാ പഠിച്ചെ?" എന്ന് ചോദിച്ചതും .

ഇതുവരെ മാഞ്ചസ്റ്റർ യുണൈറ്റഡ് ക്ലബ്ബിനെ കുറിച്ച് പൊക്കി പറയാനും ആഴ്‌സണൽ നെ പുച്‌ഛിക്കാനും മാത്രം വേണ്ടി വായ തുറന്ന ശ്രീരാമൻ അന്ന് പഠിച്ച സ്കൂളിന്റെ പേര് പറഞ്ഞു.

"ലെകോൾ."

*സൗണ്ട് ഓഫ് സീ ജൂനിയർ's മൈൻഡ് ട്രാവെല്ലിങ്*

അതും 'ലെ'കോൾ'. ഒരുമാതിരി തെക്കൻ ഇറ്റലിയിലെ ഉറക്കം തൂങ്ങുന്ന ഗ്രാമങ്ങളിലെ പിസ്സ ഉണ്ടാക്കുന്ന അമ്മൂമ്മെടെ പേര് പോലെ.

"ലെ'കോൾ മോളെ! നീ എവിഡ്യാ!"

ഹൊ. ശെരിക്കും പറഞ്ഞാൽ, എന്റെ മനസ്സിലേക്ക് ആദ്യം ഓടി വന്നത് പാരിസ് ആണ്. അവടെ മഞ്ഞ് മൂടിയ തെരുവിൽ വെളു വെളുത്ത മദാമ്മ മാരു ഒരോന്നോക്കെ പറഞ്ഞു ചിരിക്കുന്നു. പിന്നിൽ, "മാത്ത, ദ ബ്ലാപ്പ, ലെ ക്ലോസ" എന്നൊക്കെ പറഞ്ഞു തർക്കിക്കുന്ന ഫ്രഞ്ച് പൗരന്മാർ.

തൊപ്പി വെച്ച് മുഖം മറച്ച് അക്കോർഡിയൻ വായിക്കുന്ന തെരുവ് ഗായകൻ. പ്രണയ ജോഡികൾ. ദൂരേ തലയുയർത്തി നിൽക്കുന്ന ഈഫൽ ടവർ. എല്ലാം കണ്ടുകൊണ്ട് ഒഴുകുന്ന സൈൻ നദി.

ലെകോൾ. രാമേട്ടന്റെ ലെകോൾ.

ഡ്യുഡ് ഡ്യുടിന്റെ പേഴ്‌സ് തുറന്ന് പഴയ ഐഡി എടുത്ത് കാണിച്ച് തന്നു.

'ലെക്കോൾ ചെമ്പക' (എന്താ ല്ലെ, ചെമ്പക, മ്മടെ ബ്ലോഗിന്റെ പേര് തന്നെ) യിലെ മനോഹരമായ ആചാരങ്ങളെ കുറിച്ച് വിവരിച്ചു. അവടെ ഓരോ ക്ലാസിന്റെ പേരും പൂവുകളുടെ പേരാണ്. ഒലിയാണ്ടർ, പെറ്റുനിയ, ലന്റാന, സിൽവർ ഓക്ക്, നീം, ബോധി, അലമാണ്ട, മാരിഗോൾഡ്, അങ്ങനെ പോണൂ പേരുകൾ.

ലെകോൾ ചെമ്പകയെ കുറിച്ചുള്ള ചിന്തകൾ അൽജിബ്ര ക്ലാസ് മൂലം മരവിച്ച ഹൃദയത്തത്തെ മണാലിയിലെ മൂടൽ മഞ്ഞാൽ പൊതിഞ്ഞ താഴ്വരകളിലെ വസന്തകാലം പോലെ സുന്ദരമാക്കി.

ശ്രീരാമൻ തന്റെ സ്വന്തം ആക്കി വെച്ചിരുന്ന മൂലകളും, വൈകുന്നേരം  ഇളം വെയിൽ അടിച്ചാൽ മാത്രം തിളങ്ങുന്ന വരാന്തകളും മനസ്സിൽ കണ്ടു

അവിടുത്തെ പൂക്കളുടെ ഗന്ധം എൻറെ മനസ്സിൽ മഴയായി പെയ്തിറങ്ങി.

ഇതുവരെ കണ്ടറിയാത്ത യൂറോപ്പിലെ നഗരങ്ങൾ പോലെ, ലെകോൾ എന്റെ മനസ്സിൽ, കളവും ചതിയും ഇല്ലാത്ത ഒരു സ്വപ്ന ഭൂമിയായി മാറി.

"ആറ്റുവഞ്ചി പൂക്കളും കാറ്റിലാടിയുലഞ്ഞൂ ആലിമാലി മണൽത്തട്ടും ആതിരപ്പൂവണിഞ്ഞൂ ആലിന്റെ കൊമ്പത്തെ ഗന്ധർവനോ ആരെയോ മന്ത്രമോതി ഉണർത്തിടുന്നു..." - ഒ എൻ വി

-സിജൂനിയർ

✨

#lecole #chempaka #lecolechempaka #amrita #amritapuri #amritapuranam #sreeram #kollam #kerala #malayalam #mallu #stories #mayalamstories #art #blog #malayalamblog #kodakarapuranam

[blogdecjunior]

N114: എ.ജെ പറഞ്ഞ കഥ

ഇത് അമൃത പുരാണത്തിലെ രണ്ടാം ഖണ്ഡിക ആണ്. മുൻ ഭാഗം വായിക്കാൻ ഇവിടെ ഞെക്കുക

ഇതാണ് N114 എന്ന റൂമിന്റെ കഥ.

N114 ഇല് വെച്ച് ഏതെങ്കിലും ഒരു പരീക്ഷ എങ്കിലും എഴുത്തിയവർക്ക്‌ തോന്നിയിട്ടുണ്ടാവും, "അച്ഛാ, ഇതിലും ഭേദം അഞ്ചാറു വാഴ വെക്കുന്നതായിരുന്നൂ, ട്ടോ", എന്ന്.

ഇത് എനിക്ക് കമ്പ്യൂട്ടറും എൻജിനീയറിങും പഠിച്ച് പ്രാന്തായി, വെറുതെ ലൈഫ് സെഡ് ആക്കാതിരിക്കാൻ വേണ്ടി അങ്ങോട്ട് വിളമ്പുന്നതല്ല. ശെരിക്കും ഉള്ളതാണ്. വരും തലമുറക്ക് വേണ്ടി ഒരു നല്ലകാര്യം ചെയ്യണ്ടേ എന്ന്  വെച്ച് ചെയ്യുന്നതാണെന്നും പറയാം.

അതൊക്കെ പോട്ടെ.

എല്ലാം തുടങ്ങിയത് പണ്ടാണ്. പണ്ട് പണ്ട് പണ്ട്, (ഇത്തിരി നാടകീയത ഒക്കെ ആവട്ടെ, ല്ലെ) ഒരു ചേട്ടൻ ആൾഡെ പ്രോഫഷനൾ സപ്ളിക്കേഷൻ കോഴ്സ് എന്നെന്നേക്കുമായി തീർക്കാൻ ഉള്ള ഓട്ടത്തിലായിരുന്നൂ. ജെല്ലിക്കെട്ടിൽ  ആ പാവം കാള ഓടുന്ന പോലെ ആള് ഓടി ഓടി ഓടി, പഠിച്ച് പഠിച്ച് പഠിച്ച്, ആളങ്ങനെ ഫ്ലോ ഇലായി. ആൾഡെ അവസാന സപ്ലി എഴുതാൻ ആൾക് കിട്ടിയ റൂം വടക്ക് ഭാഗത്തെ ഒന്നാം നിലയിലെ പതിനാലാം റൂം ആണ്.

വളരെ മുമ്പ് തന്നെ എല്ലാം കാണാപാഠം പഠിക്കാൻ തുടങ്ങുകയും , അന്ന് പുലർച്ചെ എഴുന്നേറ്റ് ഒക്കെ ഒന്നുകൂടി നോക്കുകയും ചെയ്ത കാരണം പുള്ളിക്ക് വല്ലാത്ത  മൂഡ് ആയിരുന്നു. പക്ഷെ, പരീക്ഷ ഒന്നൊന്നര ദുരന്തം ആയി പര്യവസാനിച്ചു.

ജീവിതവും എഞ്ചിനീറിംഗും മടുത്ത അയാൾ, ഉത്തര കടലാസ് കൊടുത്തിട്ട് പുറത്തേക്ക് വന്നിട്ട്, തിരിഞ് നിന്ന് ക്ലാസ്സിലേക്ക് നോക്കി, ഒരൊറ്റ പ്രാക്ക് ആയിരുന്നു.

"ദൈവമേ, ആരെഴുതിയാലും N 114ഇൽ എഴുതുന്ന എല്ലാ പരീക്ഷയും പരാജയം ആവണേ!"

ഇന്ത്യ മഹാരാജ്യത്തിലെ പ്രബുദ്ധ കോളേജുകളിൽ പോലും ഇല്യാത്ത ഒരു മനോഹരമായ  ഒരു പ്രതിഭാസമാണ് അന്ന് മുതൽ  N 114ഇൽ അരങ്ങേറി തുടങ്ങിയത്. ആര്, എത്ര പഠിച്ചിട്ട് , ഏത് പരീക്ഷ എഴുതിയാലും, അത് 'ഇജ്ജാത്തി' ദുരന്തം ആവും.

എന്റെ പ്രിയ സുഹൃത് എ.ജെ ക്ക് ഒന്നാം സെമെസ്റ്റെറിൽ ആകെ പ്രതീക്ഷ ഉണ്ടായിരുന്നത്  ഇംഗീഷിനും രസതന്ത്രത്തിനും ആണ്. ദൈവം സഹായിച്ചു, ആ രണ്ടു പരീക്ഷയും എഴുതാൻ കിട്ടിയത് നമ്മുടെ  N 114ഇൽ  തന്നെ. വെഷമം തീർക്കാൻ ആണോ എന്ന് അറിയില്ല, ചെക്കൻ ഇപ്പൊ എഡിറ്റിങ് ഓട് എഡിറ്റിങ് ആണ്.

എന്റെ സുഹൃത്തുക്കളോടും, ഇനി വരാൻ പോകുന്ന ജൂനിയേഴ്സ്സിനോടും എനിക്ക് ഒരു കാര്യം മാത്രേ പറയാൻ ആഗ്രഹിക്കുന്നുള്ളു.

N 114 ആണ് കിട്ടിയത് എങ്കിൽ പഠിക്കയൊന്നും വേണ്ട, എന്തൊക്കെ ആയാലും മൂൻജോസ്കി ആയി വീട്ടിൽ ഇരിക്ക്യൻഡി വരും.

- സീജൂനിയർ

#amritapuri #amrita #amritaschoolofengineering #malayalam #n114 #kerala #keralam #kollam #engineering #story #blog #writeblr #stories #tumblr #trending

[blogdecjunior]

Bingazuram (ബിങ്കാസുരം )

ബിങ്കാസുരം 

ബി ടെക്കിൽ 14 സപ്പ്ലി നേടിയ ബിങ്കന് അറിയാമായിരുന്നു , അവനെ കാത്തിരിക്കുന്ന ആ സ്വപ്ന ജീവിതം ഇവിടെ ഇടപ്പള്ളി പാലസിൽ ഒന്നും അല്ല എന്ന്.

അവൻ തീരുമാനിച്ചു : ആ  യാത്ര തുടങ്ങാൻ സമയമായി .

അന്നാണ് അവൻ എനിക്ക് അവസാനം ആയിട്ട് സ്നാപ് അയച്ചത്. ഒട്ടും പുതുമയില്ലാത്ത ജനാലയുടെ ചിത്രം. അത് അവന്റെ അവസാന  സ്നാപ്പ് ആവുമെന്ന് ഞാൻ കരുതിയില്ല .

ആ ചിന്ത ബിങ്കന്റെ മനസ്സിൽ പുതിയതായിരുന്നില്ല . പണ്ട് മുതലേ ബിങ്കൻ ഇടപ്പള്ളി പാലസിൽ ഒറ്റക്കായിരുന്നു . ബിസിനസ്സിൽ മാത്രം താല്പര്യം ഉള്ള ചേച്ചി, ഒരു കാലത്തും സ്പീഡ് ഇല്യാത്ത  ഐഡിയ 4G ഇന്റർനെറ്റ് , ഈ ചിന്തകളൊക്കെ അവനെ വല്ലാതെ അലട്ടി .

ഒടുവിൽ, ഡിസംബറിലേ ഒരു നിലാവുള്ള രാത്രിയിൽ , അവൻ വീട് വിട്ടു ഇറങ്ങി . അന്ന് പാതിരാപ്പൂവ് വിടർന്നു നിൽക്കുന്നുണ്ടായിരുന്നു .

തീവണ്ടി പുക തുപ്പ്പിക്കൊണ്ട് കുതിച്ചു  പാഞ്ഞു.

കറങ്ങി തിരിഞ്ഞു ഒടുവിൽ അവൻ ചെന്നെത്തിയത് ചെകുത്താന്റെ കോട്ടയിൽ .

ബോംബെ .

പണ്ട് മലയാളികൾക് ജോലി തേടി പോവാനും, പഠിക്കാൻ പോവാനും, ഒളിച്ചോടി പോവാനും എന്നും ഉണ്ടായിരുന്നു നഗരം. ബോംബെ .

ആ മഹാ നഗരം അവനെ നോക്കി ചിരിച്ചു . മന്ദഹസിചു . ഇരു  കയ്യും നീട്ടി സ്വീകരിച്ചു .

പിന്നീടുള്ള ഒരു വാഴവട്ടകാലം , ബിങ്കൻ, ബിങ്കാസുരൻ എന്ന വ്യക്തിയിലേക്കുള്ള യാത്രയിലായിരുന്നു .

ധാരാവിയിലെ ചീറിപ്പായുന്ന വെടിയുണ്ടകൾക്കും , ഗുണ്ടകൾക്കും  ഇടയിൽ കഴിച്ചുകൂട്ടിയ നിമിഷങ്ങൾ അവനെ ഒരു അസുരൻ ആക്കി.

ഇപ്പോൾ ബോംബെ നഗരത്തെ കിടു കിടാ വിറപ്പിക്കുന്ന ബിങ്കാസുരൻ പോലീസ് വലയത്തിൽ വീഴാതെ , അവന്റെ പ്രയാണം തുടർന്നുകൊണ്ടിരിക്കുന്നു.

ഓരോ തവണ 'ബിങ്കാസുരൻ' എന്ന വാക്ക് പത്രങ്ങളിലും ടീവീ ചാനലുകളിലും നിറയുമ്പോൾ, ഞാൻ അനന്തമായ നീലാകാശത്തോട് നോക്കി പറയും,

"ഗോഡ്‌സ്പീഡ്, ബിങ്കാ. ഗോസ്‌പീഡ്. "

#bingazuram #malayalam #malayalamstory #story #kerala #edappally

[blogdecjunior]

Maggie and Chai

They were walking down the alley, now.

The stars in the heaven had finally aligned, they had met up.

It was bit of an ‘aha moment’ for both of them, but they seemed to have kept that thought away, and walked on, through the street, which was now filled with usuals; one thousand students, rioters, artists and lovers.

yes, it was December.

"Let’s go to the Maggie Stall”- her eyes shone with enthusiasm.

He was a bit anxious.

Where on earth is that? What if someone sees him walking with her? There'll be endless trolls, back at the dorm.

So, when Emma told him that she knows a place where you can Maggi, Seb was unsure about that.

okay, why does he look anxious, i’ll just walk in the front

Emma walked in the front. She had some unusual spirit of endurance inside her and that always kept her going. And she walked inside this shady looking cafe, right beside the cafe Seb always gets his evening cuppa. He has always seen the place, but has never went inside.

Inside, there were two tables. And the one at the end was indeed, a table for two.

"Two Maggi and two Chai!", she said, with two of her beautiful fingers held up. The waiter was as surprised as Seb.

Maggi and Chai? Wait, what? Seb finally remembered. She had once asked whether he has tried Maggie with chai, and he hadn't.

But he didn't want to talk about that. The stars had just finally been aligned. Nothing must go wrong! So, he just went along.

They talked on, from her mom's Antarctic expeditions, to him explaining the different accents of Kerala.

The chai came. So did the Maggi.

It was perfectly warm and after that, Seb wasn't really talking at all, and was just nodding to whatever the girl was saying.

"Yeah, now try it together", the girl was curious, and put her beady eyes locked on his face.

come on seb, do what the girl says!

Seb slowly took a spoonful of Maggi and sipped the cuppa.

It tasted horrible.

🖤

-la fin

#maggieandchai #noodles #tales of the rays

[blogdecjunior]

feel good, people.

The semester is almost over.

There aren't much lectures going on or students sitting through them, with their heads up.

The university is empty, blank and dark.

Scattered over the empty classrooms, lies the students, finishing the assignments they never had the time to do; Students just dying to get through.

In the evening, the sky broke into a wonderful shower.

At the mezzaine, some took snaps and videos of the dark clouds breaking down.

At Lovers’ Park, they held their loved ones' hands a bit more tighter.

But at the tea shop, the chai never went cold.

Most of the freshers were on the way back to their dorms, when the skies began rumbling over Amritapuri.

Some embraced the moment.

Some felt the rain, the Maya, the divine.

Others just got wet.

#life got in the way #blog #semesterend #shortblog #shortstory #story #rain #stories #amrritapuri #college #life #amrita #feelgood #vibes #autumn vibes

[blogdecjunior]

Aakash’s Muthassi

Aakash's Muthassi is probably doing something in the kitchen or watching some soapy the TV right now.

But that's not what Aakash's Muthassi does all day. She runs the water pump, pays the electricity and the internet bill, draws water from the well, fixes the power inverter and does all sorts of shady stuff.

Like once, when she joined a chit fund.

I don't think anybody knew about that. Or about how she managed to pay it up all the time.

And then, when the money got rounded up and returned, she was sure that she wasn't going to give it to anybody.

...

For years, the balcony was where all the laundry went for drying. Towels, t-shirts and socks of people of all walks of life of the old residence were like, if they were put up on a grand display for all of the neighbourhood.

That had to change, for sure.

So, Aakash's Muthassi called up the right guys and got the job done.

And When Neel Was Returned, he was surprised.

"Wow, gosh, how did you do all of this?"

He was about to give her a present which he bought from Arabia, when he learned about this.

Muthassi slowly picked up a cigar from under the stove, slowly burned the tip of it into ashes and said,

"You goddamn guineas, you really make me laugh."

Of course, that's not what happened. I'm pretty sure that something equally legendary as that happened over there.

...

The fabled tales of Aakash's Muthassi never end. Nor does the showering blessings of the Goddess of Aaryankaavu.

-la fin✨

ref: Muthassi means grandma in the magical language cjunior and Neel use everyday

#thanks grandma

[blogdecjunior]

One day, we’ll find Jay

Have you seen Jay?

It's been a week since Jay left and things have not been the same. It's like even the veranda, is lying repleted with sadness and regret.

But one day, we'll find Jay, that's for sure.

Jay used to walk through these hallways, gliding like a spirit, all night through Prahlada, brimming with vibe.

It's just silence, now at the night; cold, rainy and silent.

Jay likes everybody, you see, and everybody likes him.

And Jay will return, soon.

The dim walls of Room 22 await. The bunk bed of Room 22 lies waiting. The hallways ache for his footsteps.

Why?

Because they know, that one day, we'll find Jay.

✨

la fin

✨

PS: Jay is back. With a lotta food!

#comebackjay #writeblr #writer #story #shortstories #shortstory #storyteller #stories #tumblr #artists on tumblr #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #short story #mywriting #amwriting #writers #amritapuri