Environment issues - Corporate life

Tomorrow there is a corporate function to celebrate environment day. I am working in a company which has taken initiative in environmental issues. In software firms, may be these kinds of initiatives are very easy since it is just using human brain and electrical power. The environmental issues facing by a manufacturing firm may be thousand fold. So it may be a cake walk for a software firm to get into a prime spot of a race. While I am writing these lines, one of the channel telecasting breaking news about Athirampilly project. I am not sure where will stand corporate world in this issue. In tomorrow’s function one of the honourable ministers is taking part. I believe silence is a way of giving consent to be as it is. At same time I am compelled to write the statement of U.P Jayaraj, late short story writer of Malayalam ‘By sitting under thousand volt bulbs it is not acceptable to reject new hydro electrical projects to provide electricity to villages’. But I cannot accept any intention to destroy this pure nature, water falls, aborigines..

My Father-2

When I was studying in seventh standard I searched inside the shelf of my father. I was able to find out lots of old stamps and old coins. Coins are covered with patina. I rubbed the coins in sand with acidic ‘chemmeenpuli’ to clean it properly. So I was very proud among my classmates with a sound collection of stamps and coins

Grand Parents

I was not lucky to see my grand fathers. My Father’s father passed away when my father was a child. Mother’s father passed away before she got married. Really I didn’t even see any of their pictures also. But I was lucky to live with both of my grand mothers. But now I don’t able to remember their voice. But it is pretty visible their look in my mind, like a carved picture. But I would like to hear their voice. We have the culture to keep old ones pictures, but what about their voice. I definitely believe it is not a bagatelle. We have to keep the living memories of our old forefathers. I do remember some of very peculiar words used by my grandmother. I didn’t even hear those sounds later.

My Father-1

My father is a raconteur. He used to tells me the stories of Prophet Jonah and Thobith. Thobith is a story of a father and son. But I really confused why he selects these two stories regularly. There are thousands of stories in Bible. Even now I didn’t get the reason or the driving force to tempt him to tell the same stories several times to me. But one thing I am sure I don’t exactly remember what all other stories he had told to me . When I grown I identified both stories are related to the same people from Nineveh. And also in Jonah’s story the fish swallowed the prophet. In Thobith’s story he captured the fish which came to shore to swallow him. What it really means? Is it the reason my father had selected these stories?

I love this nature!!

I love this nature, may be its greenery, sometimes its rocks and sands, sea, forest and trees. I was not lucky to be born in the cradle of nature as an aborigine. To hear the songs of birds, to enjoy the rhythm of waterfall, to fear the forest fire, to lie inside the caves and hear the songs of insects, to hunt animals to eat, to cut a tree to make a shelter, to walk through the sand in bare foot. My fellow beings tell I am a cultured human being. I have the power to kill animals, to destroy the shelter of birds, to cut tree to make big churches, temples and houses. My forefathers pray to trees before cutting its twigs. They were cultivating inside the forest land.

My Memories

What is my oldest memory? I was walking under the table and talking to my neighbour Thoman (His real name is Thomas). I was too short even to walk under table!! I planted a small areca nut tree 3 to 4 times at different places in the farm land on the same day. I was crying when my elder father and mother sold my goats to butcher. I was lying on the ‘varandha’ and watching the flowing river, flying birds, and loaded boats from Market. Sometimes I fought with Bokko( Bosco) without any reason. Bokko is my first friend in my life, I love him a lot. I was jealous of him allowed to bath in river when I was not.

I was a dark short boy, doesn’t have any charm. The boys around my home were calling me ‘UNDANPORI’. I do remember one young guy, the people around us were calling him ‘CHAKKANDI’. We fought in between regularly; at last I was not able to control my emotions and broke down. Then all around us would laugh and I went back to home. If something wrong happened I didn’t come out of home sometime. I would get inside the shell to overcome that.

I am writing my memories are not to get into a writer’s cap. Not because I have extraordinary experiences to tell to all. My intention is to write something in English as a self learning process. Thanks to INTERNET and BLOGS to give me an opportunity to publish it.