The Ramayana

April 1st, 2008 by assortedspirits

Ucoirisyt came running to Nkwodeleg. “You just GOT to hear this!”

            “Err…what?”

            “Follow me.”

            In the distance Nkwodeleg could hear two voices. He could vaguely make out the words ‘Hanuman’ and ‘uppu soru’ (salted rice). For the benefit of Nivra and Nivan he wrote the dialog he heard in his diary. (Please take note that this contributed to the mythological world of Hinduism in later years.)

Voice 1: So what are you going to have for dinner?

Voice 2: This IS my dinner.

Voice 1: Why don’t you go to the Hanuman temple today? There’ll be nasi lemak.

Voice 2: How you know?

Voice 1: I know lah. I go there everytime. Oh yea…there’ll be uppu soru as well.

Voice 2: Huh? Uppu soru??

Voice 1: Yeap…OMG…Haven’t you heard of it before?

Voice 2: Err…no…

Voice 1: You see, when Hanuman offered his help to Rama to find Sita, Rama gave Hanuman a pouch of rice to take with him. On the way, when Hanuman felt hungry, he took out the pouch of rice but realized he had nothing to eat the rice with. He couldn’t eat it by itself, so he dipped the rice into the ocean, and hence he got ‘uppu soru’. This explains why ‘uppu soru’ is served in all Hanuman temples. ‘Uppu soru’ is believed to give energy to anyone who eats it.

(Voice 2 sounds convinced)

“Ucoirisyt, do you think we should send our representative?”

“Indeed we should, Nkwodeleg. This guy is sickening me.”

Voice 3: (Bursts out laughing) you actually, ACTUALLY believed that?

Voice 1: What’s wrong with that? Give me a good reason why it’s not believable. What is YOUR story then?

Voice 3: Hanuman was known for his strength, loyalty and courage. It was because of his devotion to Rama that he offered to look for Sita. Hanuman’s devotion is always spoken of because it is considered sincere, pure, and above all others. Hence, throughout the journey to Lanka, Hanuman restricted himself from all worldly desires including food. Only when he reached Lanka and found Sita did he take out his pouch of rice. Sita realized he had nothing to eat it with and sympathy filled her heart. At that exact moment, a fruit fell from the tree which was giving Sita shade in the Ashokavaanam. She told Hanuman to break it open. Once halved, she took the halves and squeezed the juice of the fruit into the pouch of rice. Therefore, it is ‘cheeni soru’ (sweetened rice) that is served as prasadham in the Hanuman temples.

            Nkwodeleg clapped his hands in delight. “How ridiculous does THAT sound Ucoirisyt?”

            “Pretty much not. Why do you ask that?”

            “There was never a pouch of rice.”

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Unreasonable Love (Part 2)

February 7th, 2008 by assortedspirits
  "How vas school today chveetheart?"
  "Mum! Can you please knock that accent off? Go take a course, get a tutor! Do whatever it takes. Just don’t talk to me in English till you learn to speak normally!"
  "Vat is this rude behaviour abouvt? Do you want me to tell your accha?" asked my mum in a clearly hurt tone.
  Sighing heavily and feeling bad almost immediately I said "Sorry mum, but you just remind me of that disgusting girl."
  Her eyes immediately lit up like oil lamps in a temple shrineand it didnt take long for the light to spread all over her face. "Vich garl, mone?" she asked excitedly.
  "Smells like a concoction of fermented coconut and sour milk, sounds like a parakeet and looks like an oiled grasshopper," I said in a dull voice.
  "Mone," my mother started as she came and sat beside me. She took my hand in hers and said "You say she smells like yan Yindian garl, souvnds yas chveet yas ye bard, yand yis yas yactive yas ye grasshapper. Vat more could you ask far? I’m satisfied, go far her."
  Unable to decide if my mother was mocking me, I gave her THE look and dragged my bags to my room. As much as I didn’t want to think about her, she kept coming back into my mind. Why? I had no clue. I didn’t even have the strength to force her out of my mind, and yet I couldn’t stand anything about her. From her name to her appearance to her pathetic intellectual abilities. "Naruky Mus! What is wrong with you? You’ve got maths to complete. Start now," said a stern voice inside me.
  Another voice intruded. "Well indeed, Naruky Mus! I think Iramu Kaynak is a really unique name. And you know there’s something she’s hiding. Don’t even want to know what it might be?"
  Complicated equations sat in front of me. But all I could concentrate on was Iramu Kaynak. Voice number 2 was right. There was definitely something that she was hiding. Despite feeling like vomiting when she came near me something told me that there was definitely something behind that string mushroom like appearance.
  Shocked at my own waves of thoughts I grabbed my pillow and flopped onto the bed. If these were the beginning steps up the ladder to insanity, I was climbing steadily. I fumbled for my cellphone to call Prem and say I wasn’t coming for the game that evening. Suddenly I remembered she had overheard our conversation. And the past few times she had, she had turned up for the game. I had felt her eyes on me.
  "Where the hell did THAT come from?" asked Voice number 1.
  "I have no idea," I answered. I was beginning to scare myself. I never knew that I had taken so much notice of her myself until a few seconds ago. Shaking my head, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and checked myself in the mirror. "Does Iramu Kaynak like muscular figures?"
  I opened my cupboard to take a clean t-shirt. I picked a white one. "He looks like Lard Raam in that white t-shart, no?" I overheard Iramu Kaynak saying the other day.
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the heart lives by chance

January 17th, 2008 by assortedspirits

I raised my fingers to my cheeks…

The clear drop of liquid trickled down my index finger,

And merged with Mother Earth…

But I didn’t understand…

The pain was in my heart,

Yet, my eyes were expressing the sorrow felt.

Another drop formed a dark circular patch on the ground,

And another,

And another…

Excretion of agony and solitude,

An event that fogged my mind,

Hurt my pride,

Teased my ego,

Muddled my thoughts,

And stunted my actions…

That is how it is, I had been told,

Yet, give selflessly and receive endlessly,

I had been taught.

How long?

How deep?

Trivialities of Love.

The dark patch had disappeared,

Leaving dry sand once again.

The similarity struck me.

I had been touched, penetrated, Love had seeped through,

Then it had been all sucked out,

And remained scattered in the miasmatic atmosphere…

Unable to form bonds again,

To form the molecule of Love.

If someone is ever able to join the fragments,

And share it with me,

I would call him, my miracle.

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Unreasonable Love

December 29th, 2007 by assortedspirits

I NO! NO! I failed my English paper again. There goes amma all over again. “Hare Bhagavan! How can I have such a stupid daughter? Won’t you ever learn this language properly?”

I wake up fram my deep sleep with the sour taste of paneer and spinach curry in my mouth. I uncomfortably try swallow down the horrible taste but it remains there. I sleepiedly valk towards the bathroom and merely touch my teeth with the toothbrush. Hurryly I pour water over my body and walk out. Today no time to wash heair. I myself can sense the sour smell of sweat and coconut oil flying fram my hair but I can’t help it. I pour somemore oil to flat my hair down and put a big group of jasmine on my hair. Today go late surely teacher vill scold.

Then I think of him. I smile. I dream about how ve might bumper into each other today. But god is bad, no? He never lets it happen. Aiyo, there is amma again. I quickly race down steps so that can reach kitchen fast and make her keep quiet.

Within 10 minutes I’m ready to hop onto bus. Hai, hai! Crowd in

India

buses. They drive you mad, yar! Man sitting on ladies’ seat. Tsk tsk tsk. I fight with that fat lady again for my vindow seat. There goes the brown cow, I see Chandu chacha’s black doggie. All letting out vaste and eating food from same ground. Ai, ai!

School come already. I run until the yellow colour block then slow down. He shouldn’t see me running like this, no? Then he vill think I am so dying to see him. I mustn’t make it so obvious. That’s what Kareena Kapoor said in that movie yesterday. Vaat was the other thing she said again? Ahh..She said must lift your skirt a little and make him go pagal. Aiyo! Today only I have to wear chudidhar. I think for awhile. Then vun idea come to me. I lift up my sleeves to open up my dark thinly arms.

I try to remember how Kareena valked to her lover and I follow. He looks up. I get very yexcited. I show him my peerly teeth. He raises one eyebrow and cantinues to read. I take the seat closed to him. I try to peep into the title of the book he reading. It said ‘Alchemy of Desire’. Hey Ram! Veary good. He also desiring me. thats why he showing me that tile. I also vaant to show I can read. I take out my favourite copy of Tenali Raman. I purpursely lift up the book to make sure he can read the title. Surely he vill like a girl who can read books.

My friends alvays tell me. It seems, his language is veary good. He write yamazing staarys and poyems. He also talk veary well. I see him going competition. Oh Ram! He is so jasmine color and beautiful looking yar! His height also veary nice. He play tabla veary well. I laugh in my head. He vill be shacked if he knew I can play the hop-scatch and catching game. My friends alvays say I play that bestest. I’m like their captain you know.

I sense him moving a little to the yather side. *giggle* It must be becaz he is shy of me. Hare Bhagavan! How can I thank you yenuf? You are answering aal my prayers. Let this love vork out. I will do yenithing far you.

I sit there like that until school bell ring. By then his friends are already vith him. I too vill be with him like that vun day. His smile is so darshing yar. I hear them planning for a game of cricket. Ok, I vill be there too. But sometimes I scared. You see, they all 4 years older than me. He also. They aal doving engineering carse in the school. But nevermind. Far him I vill go.

I vatch him until he dissolve around corner of building. Then I smile and walk in aapasit direction to my classroom. Such a lovely day no?

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VEENAPOANA VEERANTULA

May 28th, 2007 by assortedspirits
Veera anne is a thadi payan,
His head is filled with nothing but iron.
Once upon a time he met a lion,
The lion stole all the hair from this giant.
Veera anne is a meanie right to the heavens,
Everybody knows he thinks he’s a tyrant.
We have in mind for him someone, our sister-in-law,
But the first time she saw him she ran out of the door.
So scary is the image of this unearthly demon,
But actually on the inside he’s nothing but a lemon.
To save my skin i have to tell a big lie,
Apart from the above mentioned Veera anne is my sky. :P
Disclaimer: all information given were correct at time of ezhutheration and still is…
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when entomophobia meets phasmophobia

March 22nd, 2007 by assortedspirits

           “Name compound E.” I squinted hard at the diagram in front of me and turned the paper around as if hoping to see an answer come out of hiding. Sighing heavily, I dropped the pen I was holding onto the table and laid my head which was getting heavier by the minute on the pile of papery mess heaped up in front of me.

            The fan blades moved steadily at a soothing pace, making my thoughts flow in a similar circular pattern. The clock on the wall ticked away happily, ignorant of the rhythm that was being played. Then there was the rustling…rustling? I jerked my head up and looked around. No…it must have been the papers. Yes, it was the papers.

            Unable to even imagine how it would be to continue answering the questions, I pushed my chair back just in time to stop myself from toppling over my most prized possession, my sitar. Just like all Indian instruments, it had a long neck, a fragile base and a number of strings enough to put off Andrew, the proud owner of a 7 stringed guitar. What was unique was the orchestra it could produce all by itself. I looked around for the cover and found it near my dressing table. A creamy white silk cloth, decorated with lavender flowers and light pink sequins.

            After covering the instrument, I walked into the bathroom and gawkily pulled out the toothbrush from its holder. Trying to keep my eyes and jaws wide open, I admired my bloodshot eyes and greedily planned my dialogue to be said to mum tomorrow morning. I could easily fake a migraine, or some serious eye problem…Oh, wait! What if I told her that Madam Jabbers was paying me a visit? No, no…That would be too obvious. Maybe I could…

            Something stopped my flow of thoughts abruptly and sent blood rushing at twice its usual speed all around my body. My parents were fast asleep and my brother was 300km away in a camp. Not a convenient distance to give a pleasant surprise at this time of the day. Slowly gaining courage, I brushed the whole thing off as ‘imagination due to lack of sleep’ and continued to wash my face.

            Grabbing the towel from the rack, I switched off the fan and turned on the air-conditioner. Picking up the papers on the floor I…there it was again. Stunned and unable to move any muscle, my mind moved from ghosts, to vampires, to that pontianak in that movie, to Singapore ghost stories, to how I was going to die soon, to my deceased grandparents. And then there was silence again.

            Now, awake and alert enough to do another 100 questions on organic compounds, I hurriedly cleared my things. The faster I got myself under the safety of my blanket, the better. There were three things I feared in this world. The fellow beings of the supernatural world, the ceiling fan falling on my head and…and…something I couldn’t even get myself to talk about.

            The luminous numbers on my alarm clock flashed 2.53 am. Impetuously setting the alarm for 6am, migraine or no migraine, I tried to calm the excited lump of muscle in my chest. “Ghosts only attack at 12am. God is beside me. The ghosts would attack my parents first but dad would surely kill them…Again?” This was getting ridiculous. An hour passed and I still couldn’t get myself to sleep. Moreover, my bladder was filling up pretty fast.

            I hadn’t heard the sound again, so maybe it was my imagination after all. Just as I placed my foot on the last rung of the ladder, the same sound, only this time louder, nearly stopped my heart from beating. Closing my eyes, I ran into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. The strings were now moving very fast and the sound was getting louder. Couldn’t my parents hear it? Why weren’t they waking up? I felt 15 years younger and a 150 times less secure. My eyes sparkling with tears, I tried to press out the stabbing pain in my chest and ignore the sudden oppression my heart was experiencing.

            And then it stopped. Silence. I waited for a few more minutes, then opened the door slowly, images of unworldly things vividly flashing in and out of my mind. I turned on the lights and looked at my sitar which was still covered. Nothing around me, nothing hanging from the ceiling, nothing on my sitar. Cautiously and half-heartedly, I looked into the mirror, expecting to see a long haired, disfigured body dressed in white with blood and parts of organs dripping and hanging all over (my idea of a Malaysian ghost). Nothing in the mirror.

            Surprised at my own courage, I slowly pulled away the cover from the sitar, reminding myself that I was a science student and everything had a logical explanation. Sensing some shiny object between the two layers of strings, I moved closer to get a clearer view. The object started moving vigorously and the distorted sound it caused grew louder accompanied my deafening scream. Trapped between the strings was something creepier and more real than my fantasized ghost…A cockroach! I heard hurried footsteps from my parents’ room. No matter how much I was going to rehearse my coming dialogue, I knew it was going to be disastrous.

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