whiff of fresh air

When Hillary kissed and I missed

Effective Communication ..

My hand-phone was ringing. I pulled up the car to the kerb. Now what do I do? I checked the number. It was hubby dear calling and here I was, my lips glued, unable to open my mouth. I just hoped he remembered what I had told him in the morning.

I heard a Hello from the other side.

"hmmmm" I said.

" Are you driving?" came the question.

" hmmm hmmm hmmmm" I kept saying.

"What happened?"

You absent minded professor! @#$%*&^. I couldn't tell him that, I was fuming inside. You forgot so fast? Forget the laddoo, now you have something more to be sorry for!!

I tried to remember all those words that Captian Haddock mouths "Bashi Bazouk, Great flat-footed grizzly bear, Gobbledegook, Ectoplasm, Lily-livered landlubber, Nincompoop, Thundering Typhoons, Blistering Blue Barnacles, Bird Brain and so on

I wished to call out these a la Captain Haddock, but then my mouth was sealed and I kept hmmmming away to glory . ..hmmm hmmmmmm and hmmmmm"

I thought to myself. How did I ever marry this unromantic moron?? (remembered from an ad long time ago)

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh the dental surgery is over? " He asked.

Aha!!! so u remembered finally?? Eh?

"hmmmm . Hmmmm .hmm"

It was so funny, I was hoping that none of the people passing by on the road were hearing me "hmmmming " into my hand-phone!

"Oh, so you cannot talk"

Great! So finally he discovered that I cannot talk!

"hmmm hmm " By now I was sounding like a stuck tape recorder.

Trust husbands to understand all your hmmmms (or rather interpret it as they wish!)

"Are you alone? Is molu (daughter) not with you?"

"hmmm ..hmmm "

"Now do one thing" he tells me, " one hmm for YES and two hmms for NO".

So the game err .talk went on and I answered his questions with hmm or hmm hmm as he suggested.

I was losing my patience, loquacious as I am, unable to talk or reply to him but just hmmm hmmm and hmmming. Finally he took pity on me I guess and said a bye asking me to call back as soon as I could open my mouth.

Thank God!

Picture Courtesy : Internet

One of my favourite poems is by Christina Rosetti which is reproduced below.

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

I have another version of this lovely poem, more related to the love in my life,

When I am dead my dearest

Sing no sad songs for me

Plant thou no roses at my head,

Nor shady cypress tree:

Bring me a laddoo each day,

Feed me lovingly I pray!

Place them gently on my grave,

Lest I do not crave

For my favourite laddoo

And scare ghosts with a boohoo!

The story of "the laddoo"

Son gave an exasperated look, daughter pleaded "Please Amma, he is giving it so lovingly eat it". I pouted and glared at him "NO, I want the Laddoo you snatched on January 12th of 1984."

He looked at kids ruefully and commented "The one mistake of my life". (tee hee, he has made many but I never have forgiven him for this one!)

"Achhaaaa, why don't you write a book? If Chetan Bhagat can talk about the three mistakes of someone's life, I am sure you can about this one mistake you mention." said our daughter.

I heard our son's voice " And you can add this photo of Amma too, look at her glaring at you" said he and handed over his mobile phone to his Dad, the camera having captured my pout very nicely.

Meanwhile, while all three of them were busy with the discussions of the book, I had gobbled two laddoos from the plate and looked up innocently at the three of them as if I hadn't hear a word of what they said.

"Look Achaaaaaa, two laddoos are already missing" she pointed to the plate gleefully. By that time I popped the third one in my mouth, nonchalantly, as all three of them started laughing uproariously looking at my efforts to close my mouth with difficulty.

You see, as a wife and mother I feed my family even if I don't eat. But this delicacy called "laddoo" is a totally different matter. At home laddoos are always offered to me first as if I were Lord Ganesha. Now if you folks are wondering what happened on Jan 12th, here goes the story.

Both of us had joined a Central Government PSU as Management trainees and the first month we had the factory visits and Management classes at our training centre before we were posted for on-the-job training.

One day a session of management lessons was over and we were asked to proceed to the dining hall for the evening tea. The men stepped aside letting us ladies go in first as was taught to them. I remember one such occasion, wherein a colleague of ours, like in his college days, shouted hilariously "ladies first", as lunch was announced, little knowing that the Deputy Training Manager had just come out of his room and was watching the whole scene. He got reprimanded for his college style behaviour when he was being trained to be an executive in a PSU!

Plates were kept on the dining table, with a laddoo and two biscuits each, and one by one we picked up one and moved aside. As I was passing by, like a bolt from the blue, my laddoo vanished and I traced the hand that snatched my favourite sweet to the merrily laughing face of my fiancé! Grrrrrr, I couldn't do anything in a public place. I imagined myself, in my saree and long hair plaited in two like a school kid, arms on my hips, glaring at him and with not so many words get the laddoo back on my plate. My colleagues wouldn't have minded, but the fear of the Deputy Manager barging in unexpectedly stopped me from trying that.

Alas, I thought he would at least share his laddoo when he got his plate, but he gobbled that up too as I watched in dismay.

This was one mistake he was going to regret all his life. He knew me to be very forgiving but would never have foreseen the repercussions of his "laddoo snatching" action of that day.

I would easily forgive him if he had a girl friend, but eating my laddoo, that too without my permission, was beyond my tolerance level. (You see laddoos are sweet, girl friends are not!! )

For years he tried to make amends offering me laddoos of all varieties, colours, shapes and sizes but here I took the stubborn Taurean stand NO forgiving for the laddoo snatching. If you can, give me "the laddoo" of "that day" I tell him

Its status quo after wedded life, after kids were born and so it remains.

Kids tease us about the laddoo incident and now we are gearing up to tell the same old story to our grandchildren too.

Long live the laddoo .errrr both of us too, to share the joy of laddoo and laddoo story with our grandchildren!

Beer anyone?

I watch in daze as he solves the puzzle in minutes. Didn't he say it was too tough for him when I asked him in the morning? He grins as he hands over the solution to me, I look at the 'solution' in the mug that he is holding, frothing at the brim.

Sigh! No wonder. "Buffalo theory" I mumble.

He looks at me, eyes bright, grinning like a Cheshire cat, asking for more. Puzzles, I mean, not beer. I hand him a few more tough ones. I see his hands moving fast as he churns out the solutions one by one, the level of 'solution' in his mug reducing inch by inch.

I mumble again "Buffalo theory".

"Why don't you try this one?" I hand him one more. "Hmmmm, this is too tough." He replies. “Try it”, I edge him. He is unaware that he is a guinea pig and I am experimenting on him.

I fill his mug with ‘the solution’, anticipating that he will give me the solution to the ‘tough one' in minutes. And yes he did!

"Strange, very strange" I say " this Buffalo theory seems to be working!"

" What's this Buffalo theory you been mumbling all along dear, ..errr . Do you mean I look like one?" he jokes. Nothing like spirits to keep your spirits high?

"Oh! You are my guinea pig today. I was just checking out the Buffalo theory".

"Aha, so you are calling me a pig, not buffalo?" he says.

"I didn't call you Buffalo or Pig and I am not going to tell you what the theory is. You figure it out yourself." I pout and walk to the kitchen.

He follows me to the kitchen and turns on his charming Libran smile. I cannot resist his Libran charms even after all these years of married life. Sigh again!

"Oh, its just that I read somewhere that in an episode of Cheers, Cliff Clavin explains the Buffalo theory to his drinking buddy Norm like this"

A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it’s the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members.

In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Now, as we know, excessive intake of alcohol kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine.

And that, Norm, is why you always feel smarter after a few beers .

He smiles, thoughtfully, and walks to the PC and switches it on. Now what are you upto I ask him.

"Trying the Buffalo theory for my latest project that I am stuck with" he says with a wink.

Picture Courtesy :Internet

" Wow Chikks, the guy has done a smooth job." Mentioned my hubby dear as he navigated our car, just out of the workshop, along the busy road.

As usual he was talking non-stop while driving. I giggled from the backseat as our friend Arun's eyes flitted from the two girls walking on the pavement to my husband, and he exclaimed, " Yaar, whats this? You comment on chicks in front of your wife too?"

"Cut off that "C", and read my latest blog Arun" I told him

Chikks .

Forty seven years back, a baby girl was born. The mother cried "A daughter again!". The grandmother moaned "Oh who will marry her, she is a bit dark". I am sure GOD must have smiled, hearing that J.

Years later, did the mother realize that she was as good as a boy? Or was she satisfied with her next progeny, a boy? I would say both. Grandmother saw the girl turn fair in a few months, wiping her doubts of her granddaughter getting a bridegroom as she grew up. Sadly she wasn't there to witness the marriage, but I am sure she must have been beside God watching my wedding (Did she smile at GOD this time?).

The girl was to be named. In stepped uncle, of the matriarchal family, with the name SHIVAJA (born out of Lord Shiva), a name to match my elder sister who was called SHAILAJA.

So I was Shivaja to the whole world and Shiva to my family, shivey as they called me. With a rare name like this I had to encounter myriad problems. Everytime I spoke my name I had to repeat it twice or thrice, until the creases vanished from the forehead of the person who was hearing the name. Rare name they would say. Many a time I had to correct people who send letters to Mr.Shivaji instead of Ms.Shivaja.

Many years back, as a management trainee in a Central government PSU of Kerala, I was asked to attend a meeting in my boss's absence. The GM chaired the meeting and I was the youngest there. As the meeting went on, and there was a specific problem to be attended to by planning department which I represented, GM turned to me saying " Please tell Mr Kurien(My boss) .. " . He stopped and asked " Whats your name, young lady?" I replied "Sir, I am Shivaja".

He looked at me and said " No,no, it can never be. Ask your father to change your name, Lord Shiva had no daughters". "Sir, its born out of Shiva" I tried to explain, 24 years have I lived with this name and to amend that just because Lord Shiva had no daughters? He was very adamant that my name was wrong and even as I quoted "Sarvamangala mangalye Shivey, sarvartha saadhike, saranye thrayambake Devi Narayani namosthuthe", he smiled and said "Aha that's Shivey, see you cant beat me to that".

By now I was blushing, as all in the room had their eyes on GM and I,and here there was a discussion of the origins of my name going on amidst a technical meeting of a project! Sigh! I remembered the BOSS IS always right and yes as he rightly pointed out, he was a Brahmin, who was well versed in prayers and Sanskrit, so I let my case rest and the meeting continued.

After marriage, to my in laws again I was and am Shivaja. To my hubby dear Shivaja in college and a switch over to Shiva/ Shivey after marriage.

He also used to call me Shiva Kutty endearingly. (Kutty means child in Malayalam). As months passed it shortened to Shi Ku, and a few months later Cheeku. Did he stop there? Like his journey through all his construction sites at different parts of India and abroad, he kept modifying my name as and when he pleased, making me more pleased at the cuter forms my name took J.

The next change, by the time our son was 10 and daughter 6, was to Cheeks. Many a time him calling me Cheeks in public made me blush.

Years flew, love grew, as we had our shares of fights, cold wars and patching up as any normal couple would. As they say "Absence make the heart grow fonder" (There is a corollary to it, if you haven't heard it goes "But presence makes it stronger!). His long stay abroad doubled the love and Cheeks was sweetly shortened to Chikks.

Chikks, it was from then on and is so to date. Even our kids mimic the tone and tenor of his voice as they playfully tell me "Chikks, hubby dear is calling you".

Now I have developed a "Chikksometer" in me. It senses his moods and inner thoughts perfectly whenever he calls me. The intensity of the call tells me how high he is. A few pegs and the decibel level goes up like an amplifier. A short Chikks with a frown is, his wallet, T shirt or trousers are missing and he needs me to check it out. A long and sweet Chikks (with stretched hands) means "Are you free, there are no more watchable programmes on TV".

Ahem …my dear ilander friends, no prizes for guessing what I call him in return!

Picture Courtesy: http://www.sl-designs.com

Sh(n)ores of Love

A few days back I was reading 'The Kite Runner' (Khaled Hosseini). "Hahahahaha just hear this" I told my daughter.

"Oh, I thought The Kite Runner was a serious book about Afghan wars and all. Amma, that's what you told me and what's so funny in it?" she asked me.

I read out these lines to her.

"Baba was impossible to ignore even in his sleep. I used to bury cotton wisps in my ears, pull blanket over my head, and still the sounds of Baba's snoring ' so much like a growling truck engine- penetrated the walls. And my room was across the hall from Baba's bedroom. How my mother ever managed to sleep in the same room as him is a mystery to me."

"Sounds familiar?" she asked as she arched her eyebrows. "Even I asked you the same question once na?"

"Oh! Achan doesn't snore like a growling truck, just a soft purr and I assume he is telling me - I love you - even his in his sleep", I told her with a smug smile.

"Oh very romantic! " she chuckled and got back to her work.

A few years back, while her Dad was home on one of his vacations from site, she came to me asking "Amma, can I sleep with Achan today?". " Hmmm ask Achan" I tossed the ball in his court little knowing that it was he who sent her to me with that question because she had asked him first.

Sigh! The double cot cannot accommodate the three of us, so I said Ok for the day - or rather, night - and went to sleep in her bedroom. Let me tell you that I, any day, prefer to sleep next to him irrespective of whether he snores, or puts on the AC at 18 degrees even in winters (I do threaten mockingly that I will sleep on the couch outside and get him to reduce the temperature by a few degrees or just put off the AC after he sleeps and enjoy some warm moments until he wakes up sweating in another 30 minutes.;) .

Next day, with a frown that creased her little forehead, my daughter asked me "Amma, how do you sleep near Achan? He was snoring all through the night and I couldn't sleep at all. I even tried the trick you told me, with no result!"

I smiled and whispered in her ear " Magic". And yes I did discover that magic accidentally. One of those days, ..err …nights, he was snoring aloud and I was not particularly sleepy, I turned around and gently massaged his chest. The snoring stopped. Eureka! I discovered something. I wanted to get up and do a jig, but controlled myself lest I wake my kids. As such they call me half-crazy and to see their Amma in her night dress doing a jig on the cot, that too in the middle of the night, unthinkable! Planning to share my excitement after they woke up in the morning, I controlled my urge, turned around and tried counting sheep to sleep. But aaaaah there it started again .the rhythmic sounds from his throat, disturbing my sheep and sleep. I turned around and tried again, my hands gently on his chest and the snoring stopped. This snoring,-massaging, snoring-massaging game continues to date. Poor thing, however much my daughter tried that day, what her amma told her, she was unable to stop achan's 'growling truck' snores.

Frankly speaking, nowadays I have a niggling doubt whether he really snores or he pretends to snore just to get my soft hands on that hairy chest of his!

Picture courtesy: Internet

I  wondered why he  slowed down the car near ICICI ATM,  when I had  already  told him HDFC ATM.  "HDFC" I gently reminded looking at him.  He had a smug expression.

"Where is he?", he asked me smiling. "Your new boyfriend. You mentioned he hangs out here."

"Oh yeah" I said as  I looked around  for him. "He  isn't seen around today, but then he gets hold of me early morning  not at noon" I mentioned.

I had complained to hubby dear, as soon as he landed from abroad, about this guy. While I return from the gym early morning at 6am, he just comes and holds my hand from behind. Try as  I might, he wouldn't let me go. I try wriggling out, but no sooner than I wriggle free, he catches me again. Too much of love this guy showers on me!

Its become a daily affair, I told him.  Most days he stealthily pounces on me from behind,. " Come on baby, lets have a blast running around"  his eyes seem to say.  As I wriggle out, I see a pleading innocent look on his face. His melting eyes melt my heart too! But, but how can I fool around on the road when early morning walkers are watching our antics.

I wanted to take another route to the gym to avoid him, but I felt sorry for him.  I tried walking away on the other side of the road,  I showed my displeasure to the way he troubled me, but it pained me to see his forlorn look L.  Finally he got the message, he would just stand farway and look at me as I passed by. Just a smile, a word from me, so that he could come running and hold my hands once again.

Next day morning, my husband who moans about early mornings, woke up with great gusto and got ready for an early morning walk. "Maybe I can meet your boyfriend now", he grinned as he pulled on his shorts!  I changed into my track suit he got me the previous day and tied my hair into a pony tail, as he teased me for dressing up to meet him. Hurry up he chided as I was tying up shoelace. "Ready" I was all smiles as I said that. I knew he would be there right on the spot, watching me pass by, a forlorn look on his face, just waiting to jump on me if I let him.

As we reached the spot, I laughed gleefully and pointed out " There he is, that's him, surrounded by his other girl friends. But see I am different and so special among the lot"

And  if you wanna see the hansome guy who stole my heart ..

………………………….here is a pic of him!!!

For His Version Click here 

Reward …….

Venue: Vadodara Central Mall

Date  : 12^th April 2008

HE, SHE and ME walk around the mall, loitering, window shopping. Suddenly SHE comes to ME, all excited and with a twinkle in her eyes.

SHE: Ammaaaaa . (Mom)

ME : Yes, what is it, Molley (daughter)?

SHE :  Oh, come here I have found out something suitable for you.

ME (to HE): SHE wants to show me something, lets move to the other side.

SHE leads the way as HE and ME walk behind her. SHE pulls ME over to the section "printed tees" and points to a black T shirt.  ME rolls her eyes, HE encourages "Buy that".

SHE (sighs): . ..Oh I don't have a hubby, or else I would have bought that!

ME: I don't have a cat, so nor can I.

SHE and HE (unanimously) : That's ok, people can assume you have  a cat back home.

ME  : Hey, its too short for my liking.

 SHE and HE : (Roll their eyes in exasperation) ..there goes amma again …too short!

The sales girl pitches in " It will look nice on you ma'am."

ME gives up. The tee is packed. SHE and HE laugh gleefully.

 And now, here is what SHE and HE got me that day.

The Praying Goat………….
 
 

There he stood, arms akimbo and gesturing, driving home the point

 ( Whatever fib he was up to this time .??.) and my sister hanging 

on to his every word, eyes round with amazement and disbelief as he 

recounted his exploits  with his French beard dashed with a liberal 

dose of salt more than pepper, he looked every bit the motivator, the 

story teller, the evangelist all rolled into one ..

As usual he was the centre of attraction. My hubby dear.

Words just flow out of his mouth any time, anywhere, any

topic. My sis was intently absorbed in his verbose

performance and the narration continued, unabated.

Suddenly there was a bleat . "mmmehehe.." and she

turned around, to see me bleating and prancing around

like a lamb.

Realization dawned and she burst out laughing.

"Yeah, got it? Praying Goat!!" I told her. She chased

him out with the belan she had in her hand, and he

rushed at me to me to give a punch for letting

out his secret. I scampered to hide behind my sis.

He wouldn't dare to attack me when I use her

as a shield - although she is only 4ft 11 inches

and would pass for a college student even at

this age - for she is elder to him.

Now it's a common occurrence at our home.

Anyone getting caught lying just hears a resounding

bleat from some corner of the house. The "Praying Goat"

syndrome as we call it. And therein lies a tale.

1989 Hyderabad

Most of our LTC leaves/vacation were spent at

my sister's home, wherever my brother in law was

posted, being in the armed forces. That year, my hubby,

son and I (our daughter was not yet born) visited

them at Hyderabad.

We sisters never got to talk enough with each other after her

and then my marriage, so it was chatter chatter all the way

once we met up. I still remember an Onam day, when both

of us prepared the sadya ( festive meal) with Sambaar

avial thoran pachadi Kichadi erusseri pulisseri complete

with Payasams and discovered that in our chatter we

hadn't cooked the main dish - Rice!!

Jijajee was away at Srilanka with the IPKF and

chechi (elder sister) took us around Hyderabad.

Off we went to visit the famous Zoo early

morning. We were roaming around the zoo the whole

day and it was a tiring summer with kids aged 5 and 2.

At last we reached a moat enclosed pen and my

sister went in search of the signboard to know

the genus of the animal in the cage to the right side.

I sat down on a nearby bench but not before

seeing the board displayed on the side opposite

to where my sister was headed.

"Huh, whats this  ..looks like a normal goat" she commented. 

There it stood,  horns up, chin down,  oosan thadi (mallu term for long,

 dangling straggly beard)  hanging down from its chin,   looking up to the 

high heavens ..praying "Oh Lord please release me from this drama at the 

earliest  … In all its goatly splendour, it looked as if it was entreating 

the Gods of his domain to free him from the idiotic stares of humankind that 

regularly came to see him in his pen .

The Goat was standing like a statue. No movement

and its head was turned upward to heaven.

Not losing the opportunity to make a bakra out of his

sis-in-law, my hubby dear started explaining with a

somber face.

"This is the Praying goat of Himalayas. Haven't you

heard of it? See how it is looking up heavenwards,

this is the usual posture and hence the name …blah blah "

I could see she totally believed him, and I could see her

amazement increasing by the second, as he went on

extolling the singular qualities of the "praying goat". He

made it out to be the next best thing to happen to Life.

I still remember trying to suppress my laughter as my

sis was all ears. Finally she saw me pointing to the other

side where the sign board was which gave

the detailed description /species of the goat. It was

just a normal mountain goat, and in all probability it

was stretching its tummy to ease the gastric discomfort

after a heavy meal of fresh grass, rather than be in divine pursuit!!!!

She burst out laughing, but not before looking daggers

at him. But then wasn't the brother-in-law quick at

pacifying chechi, lest she not cook his favourite

dishes she had promised for dinner.

And that's how the word stuck on ' Praying goat.

Whenever someone was caught fibbing like this,

we would say "praying goat" and the message was

understood by the rest in the audience. Later it

was reduced to a mere bleat.

We have a set of such words, commonly used in the

family, thanks to the innovative skills of the elder

and younger generation alike. The etymology of

these words, most of which would not find a

place in any self respecting dictionary, is solely

from within the family.

Some of them were coined when we were kids,

and they have been passed down to our children

who use them as a normal practice!!!

PS.

I am in the process of compiling the family dictionary for

use of the generations to come.

Flying (Saucer) Papaya .

The gyaenocologist confirmed it and I was in the seventh heaven of delight. If the would-be-mom is in such ecstasy, will the would-be-dad be far behind? We decided to celebrate the occasion with a grand dinner. I gorged myself, with a good amount of chilly chicken and fried rice (my favourites of those days), fully aware of the fact that the next few months these dishes may not be as palatable to my tongue with the morning sickness et al.

It's the luckiest period of a woman's life, you see. You get what you ask for. It's a tradition not to deny a pregnant lady whatever she asks for, lest the newborn get an ear infection. (huh..huh was Draupadi pregnant when her valiant one-among-the-five husbands the great Bhima went in search of the "kalyanasougandhika" flower so painstakingly?).

There is a big list of do's and don'ts too. Have milk in plenty (ugh I hate milk), eat fruits and nuts (monkeyish!), eat iron rich foods and a list of not to eat items .. All was drilled well into our ears by elders whenever we met them.

Now the real story begins. My neighbour aunty, a mother of four and grandma of six, would lovingly send me, staying away from parents and in-laws and attending office, eatables once a while. One day she sent me a piece of ripe Papaya grown in her garden. I love fruits and nuts, any type (even the chocolate filled ones of Cadbury's). Back from office I was slowly peeling the skin of the papaya when in came hubby dear to the kitchen. He looked at me with stern disapproval "You are going to eat that?. Don't you know that papayas are hot for the body and cannot be eaten in your condition?".

" Oh, I know that but this is only a small piece" I argued. He said a firm "NO". I persisted "Aunty wouldn't have given it to me if I was not supposed to eat it". Oh, no sympathy at all from hubby dear. " Nothing is going to happen with this small piece of papaya I am going to eat it" I said firmly.

Angered that I was being unnecessarily stubborn, he just picked up the papaya piece and sent it flying out of the kitchen door. As the projectile took off I watched sadly the flying papaya as it landed in the backyard.

I went out to see the orange coloured papaya all brown and dirty lying on the ground. I knelt down beside that and sang "Veenithallo kidakkunnu dharaniyil, podiyumettu ende papaya " ** (here lies my papaya on the earth, coated with dust)(Courtesy Kumaran Aasaan).

Although years have passed by, whenever we eat a papaya we are reminded of this flying papaya incident.

** Shri.Kumaran Aasan was a famous Malayalam poet. His poem "Veena Poovu" (The Fallen Flower) starts "Veenithallo kidakkunnu dharaniyil, sonithavumaninjayyo shiva shiva ." Meaning “Oh God, here lies the flower on the earth coated with blood "