Pampered Memories

After many years, I found myself back in the stands of Jawahar stadium Kannur , watching the final match of the Kerala Super League. The moment I stepped into the stadium, I knew this was not just another game. The air itself felt charged with  floodlights slicing through the evening sky, drums pounding in the galleries, chants rolling like waves from one stand to another. As the match unfolded, memories came rushing back, memories stitched into these same concrete steps and the painted  railings. This ground had been my window to football long before television and digital graphics took over. I had watched giants here. I still remember the first time I saw the great three of Calcutta,  Mohun Bagan, East Bengal  and Mohammadens play on this turf. Their  flags fluttered proudly, their supporters singing with a quiet confidence,.  This was the place where I first saw  international stars like Jamshed Nassiri and Majid Bhaksar, Indian stalwarts such as Bi...

Certain  memories never fade with time. For me, one such memory is seeing Rajiv Gandhi for the first time at Kota Maidan, Kannur, during an election campaign in the 1980s. I had gone there with my mother, an ardent Congress sympathiser, carrying a VIP pass from her relative, which allowed us to sit near to the stage and see him up close. I was a high school student then. Like many young Malayalis of that time, I was gradually drawn into politics through newspapers, magazines, and the strong current of left-oriented thoughts. Yet, that morning was not merely about politics. It was about emotion, excitement, and the arrival of a young leader, the interim Prime Minister, who had captured the imagination of the nation. There was an energy in the crowd that is difficult to describe today. People waited for hours just to catch a glimpse of him. When he finally arrived, dressed in his simple white kurta-pyjama, the ground erupted with cheers. To many, Rajiv Gandhi represented youth, moder...

After many years, I travelled once again from Chennai to Kannur in the  Madras–Mangalore Mail. The coaches are modern, enhanced interiors with brighter lighting and larger windows but  most passengers travel in silence with earphones plugged in.  As the train slowly rolled out of Puratchi Thalaivar Dr. M.G. Ramachandran Central Railway Station, something deep inside me awakened. I was suddenly taken back to 1988 ; to my student days in Madras, when this very train was proudly known as the legendary No.1 Madras–Mangalore Mail. The  Mangalore–Madras Mail was originally known as Train No. 1 making it one of the very first and most prestigious trains of the old Madras Railway Company. Even the name carried dignity. “No.1 Mail.” Back then, Chennai was Madras and Madras Central  station in the evenings had a world of its own. For those who travelled through Madras Central in the 1980s and 90s , the central station was not merely a place to catch a train. The sight of ...

  After a long time, this weekend I attended a pre-wedding eve family function in Thalassery (Tellicherry)  . It felt like travelling back into the warmth of old Malabar traditions. What touched me the most was the mylanchi function held on the eve of the wedding. It brought back memories of days when weddings in Thalassery homes were not managed by event planners, but by families, neighbours, cousins, and especially the elder ladies of the household. The atmosphere was filled with warmth, children running around the courtyard, relatives meeting after a long time, the fragrance of henna in the air, and the sound of laughter echoing through the ancestral home. As the bride or bridegroom sat gracefully for the melanchi, surrounded by close relatives, the evening slowly transformed into something deeply emotional and cultural. There were no loud speakers or choreographed performances. Instead, the elder women of the family gathered together in circles and began singing the tradit...

  The years of my student life in Tamil Nadu, particularly in Chennai and Chidambaram, were not only a time of academic learning but also a period of emotional and cultural awakening. Those were years when cinema was an essential part of everyday life.   Among the many filmmakers whose works shaped my formative years, Mani Ratnam stood apart. From Nayakan (1987) to Alaipayuthey (2000), his films accompanied my journey from adolescence to manhood, leaving a deep and lasting impact on my understanding of human emotions, relationships, and society. Being a student in Tamil Nadu during that period meant experiencing cinema in its most vibrant form by standing in long queues outside theatres, discussing films with friends in college corridors, and feeling the collective emotion of audiences responding to powerful scenes. Watching Mani Ratnam’s films in Chennai and Chidambaram was not simply viewing a movie; it was participating in a cultural experience. His cinema seemed to speak...

  Every morning, my drive to Kannur Dental College follows a familiar rhythm,  a quick breakfast, keys in hand, the engine humming to life, and the same winding route through the quiet stretches of Tazhe Chovva - Anjarakandy. But today, the rain had rewritten everything.  It had started raining sometime during the night, not the loud, stormy kind, but a steady, soaking monsoon rain that seemed to cleanse the air and slow the world down. As I started the car, the wipers began their lazy dance across the windshield. The road from home to the college that usually stood still on either side of the road now swayed gently, droplets falling from their leaves in slow motion. The red earth had turned darker, and little streams had started to form along the edges of the road, gurgling playfully. The usual bustle was muted. Fewer people stood at bus stops; Schoolchildren with plastic raincoats and colourful umbrellas   walked along the edge of the road, their movements cut...

  I’m writing this while waiting at Bengaluru airport, midway at through a long and tiring connecting journey with  eyes heavy, body aching.   In search of something comforting, I grabbed a hot filter coffee from Rameshwaram Café an outlet near Gate 35. It was strong, rich, with that signature South Indian aroma that cuts through the fatigue. Having a sip of that cofee , my mind took me to my PG days - Standing on a chilly mornings at weekends  at Bhupathi Coffee   the tiny roadside stall  opposite Egmore Railway station ,that served what still remains the best coffee I’ve ever had    Bhupathi’s wasn’t glamorous. No fancy décor,  Just a steel boiler, a weathered counter, and the man himself ,with his no-nonsense pouring technique and quiet efficiency. But come 5 a.m., the place was alive with the smell of roasted beans and the sleepy chatter of people who come in and  out of Egmore railway station . My mind took me to PC,( parr...

 I grew up glued to the TV news in the 1980s and 1990s. Back then television in India meant one thing ie Doordarshan. For many of us, it wasn’t just entertainment; it was an education, a window to the wider world, and a steadying influence in our homes . The news readers were not just presenters, they were trusted voices in our homes. Names like Salma Sultan, with her trademark rose tucked neatly in her hair, or Neethi Ravindran, with her calm authority, immediately come to mind. Gitanjali Aiyar, elegant yet precise, and Rini Simon Khanna, with her measured tone, defined what it meant to be a newsreader. Even Usha Albuquerque and others brought the same composure. Tejeshwar Singh, with his deep, baritone voice, brought a gravitas that could make even the dullest parliamentary bulletin sound weighty. What united them all was their demeanour. They did not dramatize, they did not impose their opinions, and they never raised their voices. News was read, not screamed. Even when they ann...

  After 36 years, Oru Vadakkan Veeragatha ,one of the best ever malayalam movies   arrived in theaters  in a digitally remastered 4K Atmos version. The movie is based on the medieval ballad “Vadakkan Pattukal”  from North Malabar where the warriors were hailed as super  heroes  . Though many  Malayalam movies have in the past portrayed the Vadakkann pattukal stories to our screens , this movie stays apart for the story screenplay , direction , kalarippayattu fights, songs and the extra ordinary performance of the large number  of actors in the movie . It was an exquisite storytelling by MT Vasudevan Nair who could brilliantly transform the character of Chandu from a cheater, deceiver, womanizer, betrayer, murderer (which we have read in the folk stories) to an innocent scapegoat by detailing the perception of events from Chandus point of view . Some dialogues in the movie are still fresh in the minds of the Malayalees.   Apart from...

  Although Rome is often referred to as the eternal city, it is Varanasi known as Kashi or Benares  that deserves that epithet. Pilgrims have been coming there since at least four to five thousand years ago, and still do, to justify the comings and goings of life and death . I was on a official meeting to  Varanasi ,the land of Varuna and Assi , the tributaries of River Ganga. But I had  planned to stay back for an extra  day to experience the ‘City of Light’ . It is said that  Varanasi is older than history. A city which is older than traditions. Older than legends. Even if all these are added together, I felt that this  city and its ghats  looks twice as old as that. In the journey from the destination of life to another goal , this city is chosen by traditions and beliefs of many for  death and salvation . It is said that  Varanasi ends where another journey begins. Thousands flock to this city from all corners of the world  seek...

  T imes have changed. Cold war is history. The world is not what it used to be. But a war among former disintegrated USSR republics ie Ukraine and Russia  brought memories about my ‘connections’ with this erstwhile largest country . Nostalgia junkies among millennials in Kerala like me grew up reading and hearing everything fantastic about Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.              Soviet Union, Soviet Life, Sovietland and Misha were propaganda magazines from the erstwhile Soviet Union, circulated across the world until the disintegration of the USSR. Those were the days before globalization and India was the mighty Soviet Union’s best friend. Russian magazines and books influenced the reading habits of Indians a great deal, especially those in communist leaning Kerala. The works of Russian masters such as Fyodor Dostoevsky, Leo Tolstoy, Olga Perovskaya and Maxim Gorky were popularised in Kerala by the Communist Party of India’s Prabh...

  “.......many of the people there (in India), who are strict in their religion, drink no wine at all; but they use a liquor, more wholesome than pleasant, they call coffee, made by a black seed boiled in water, which turns it almost into the same colour, but doth very little alter the taste of the water. Notwithstanding it is very good to help digestion, to quicken the spirits, and to cleanse the blood" So said Rev Edward Terry, Chaplain to Sir Thomas Roe who was British ambassador to the court of Emperor Jahangir in the early 16th Century.   Centuries after that, If there is a taste that connects people and culture in India, then it has to be the Indian Coffee house. A chain which connects 400 cities and towns in India, it has become a part of the common man. For about a century it was the favourite hangout for many sections of people, be it a professional or a labourer, rich or poor. Its legacy as a social meeting place in fostering intellectual discussions is well known, e...

    Ever since I read in   a Sunday supplement about the erstwhile Indo- Srilanka rail route and the ‘Boat Mail Express’   train from   Madras to Colombo , my heart and mind wanted to see the Indian end point of that train journey. So, on a weekend of March 2022, my 'other half'   and I packed   our bags to a very unlikely destination in any of the tourist maps – Dhanushkodi.       Boat mail express or Indo Ceylon Express train was   a steamer ferry service between India and Sri Lanka connecting Chennai and Colombo, by a   rail-to-sea-to-rail operation. Passengers could buy a single ticket for this international journey through rail and   ferry. This train takes passengers from Chennai To Dhanushkodi, then ferries the passengers to Thalimannar in Sri Lanka, and then another train takes them to Colombo. Dhanushkodi, a ghost town today shrouded in mystery is located in the Rameshwaram district of Tamil Nadu. It   is t...

The "Gulf Boom" from Kerala to the Gulf countries started in the 1970s and continues to the present day . The Gulf those days were a transforming  piece of land with a lot of petro dollars in their coffers. They needed  skilled and unskilled labourers to build their country. Mallu men, mostly with a matriculation pass or fail and a mind full of big dreams, packed their bags and left in search of jobs in the gulf. These pioneers, who had mostly come from impoverished families, mostly landed in menial jobs in the gulf countries. They struggled hard under the burning desert sun, building roads, working at the drilling sites and even working in  farms and cattle learning. Some started small businesses or tea shops. The salaries they got in  Riyals or Dirhams  seemed large when compared to the meagre amounts they would have earned for a similar job back home.  They lived frugal lives, sending most of their earnings back home to their families so that they could ...

  My first air travel was 20 years back on a flight from Mangalore to Mumbai. Ever since that maiden trip, I have transgressed the boundaries of states and nations to different airports.  Airports fascinate me but not the air travel.                             Most statistics maintain that air travel is the safest mode of travel. But my pre air travel anxiety surfaces every time I board the aircraft. Before every takeoff, I always try not to skyrocket my anxiety by keeping myself occupied with prayers, or by thumbing through the pages of in flight magazines.   The recent air accident at Karipur, Kozhikode rought back a memory of one of my worst travelling experience. It was a Sunday evening after a conference. The Indigo flight from Raipur took off from Swami Vivekanda Airport on time and everything went on as usual. The stewards started serving snacks and I took my typical trip to the w...