Tomichan Matheikal's blog

Ashokan Pillai was reading the newspaper since there were no clients in the office. Prime Minister Modi’s claim that Mahatma Gandhi was not known to the world until Richard Attenborough made the movie amused Ashokan. Something far more amusing walked in just at that moment. A whole family consisting of father, mother and two children. What are these little children doing in an office of the civil supplies department? Ashokan wondered. His job was related to the issue of ration cards, rectification of errors in them, and other matters associated with ration cards. “We want a change in our ration card,” the man who introduced himself as Rajendran said. He looked smart in his stylish jeans and T-shirt. The woman was wearing a similar dress too and she was charmingly beautiful though she seemed to be in her forties. They wanted to remove Rajendran’s name from the card and issue a separate card in his name. “We are separating,” Rajendran said. “With mutual consent,” the lady sai

What does religion mean? This is the fundamental question raised by Manu Joseph in his story (in Malayalam) titled Lizard in the Sanctuary . A lizard is driven out of a library in a cleaning drive initiated by the new librarian. It takes shelter in the nearby church. After all, churches are meant for everyone, aren’t they? The lizard sits in the sanctuary right behind the inscription of INRI on the main cross. It observes everything, listens to all the prayers and sermons, and even attends a few catechism classes after the Sunday Mass. The lizard is fascinated by such a wonderful religion which teaches the faithful to love even their enemies. The lizard finds the melodious prayers and hymns soothing and moving. The lessons preached in the sermons are all so noble. The lizard naturally wants to become a Christian. How to become a Christian? The lizard carefully observes all the Christians who attend the church service. There is Mathew who takes a seat near to the women’s side an

The short story titled ‘Power’ written by well-known Rajasthani writer Vijaydan Detha is a metaphor on the nature of political power and the pragmatism of people who are subjects of that power. In this story there is magistrate who is the favourite of the King. The magistrate is so beloved of the King that he is more powerful than the King. The subjects are all scared of the magistrate. He has no children though he has seven wives. He blames the wives for his childlessness. Finally he adopts a dog named Koel. All the people of the country love Koel. Rather, they pretend to love Koel. They sing Koel’s praises. Koel’s life is cut short by a disease. The magistrate, rendered unable to bury or cremate the dead dog by his great love for it, gets the dog stuffed and embalmed. When he expresses his desire to have a golden cage built for Koel, the people instantly donate whatever jewels and ornaments they have. Soon miracles begin to take place because Koel has attained a divine status

Draupadi wants to beget a daughter by Karna. Bilingual poet [Malayalam and English] K Sachidanandan has written a very short story in the latest edition of the Malayalam weekly, Mathrubhumi . Titled Draupadi’s Soliloquy , the story is an implicit lament on the current state of affairs in India. No woman can accept her fate with resignation when she has five valiant and virtuous husbands and yet has to stand disrobed in front of a couple of malevolent men who have usurped all powers through means more foul than fair. Of what value is Yudhishthira’s dharma? Draupadi laments. Arjuna’s famed valour is in vain now. Even the devotion of mighty Bheema serves no purpose. Nakula’s dutifulness and Sahadeva’s courtesy are all futile virtues in this royal court where villainous characters have put on the robes of heroes. What I want is Karna, Draupadi laments to herself. She has seen the flame that burns fiercely in the eyes of Karna. She has felt the ardour of the passion that fumes in Ka

  Driving in Kerala is scary. Walking on the road is deadlier. Both can kill you sooner than any other cause. Look at statistics. Covid kept the accident numbers low in 2020. Lockdowns kept people at home. As soon as people were given liberty to drive around, they started driving people to their death. Nearly 55,000 accidents in 2023! That is 150 accidents a day!  Two-wheelers cause most accidents. Youngsters form the lion's share of the victims. Nearly two-thirds of the victims are in the age group of 18 to 45.  My house is situated on a road that is designated as state highway. Actually the road's construction was never completed due to the kind of politics Kerala usually had and hence the highway suddenly ends in the middle of nowhere. Hence the traffic isn't much. But youngsters come from God-knows-where on their roaring bikes which fly on the roads. The speed and the noise, both together can be murderous. A lot of people die  before reaching the age of 60 in this area

  Diya Geomin is a grade 12 student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala, India. She wrote the following poem about a close friend of hers who is struggling with depression. Notice how the problems of the other person intertwine with those of the poet persona.   She hopes, I exist By Diya Geomin   She hopes to see the better world She hopes to know her true self That nobody, even herself, knows  She hopes to find a new fantasy  To escape some time alone.   She hopes to hide under the stairs To cry out her pain somewhere no one cares  She hopes to escape into her books. With the pennies she doesn't have.   She hopes to run away to an unknown place. Full of surprises, waiting to be startled. Waiting to be claimed, owned and used Be with every lover her books could offer.   Yet to her dismay, she finds none. It's only herself, all alone Hoping for some twisted ways to escape Hanging by a thread waiting to be dropped.   Ju

I visited two unlikely places yesterday along with a friend whom I shall refer to as J. A cousin of J’s was an inmate of a sanatorium meant for men who were shifted from a mental hospital. This cousin had undergone treatment for years at the hospital. Now for the last few years, he is in the sanatorium and he looks perfectly normal. He talks like any other normal person too though years of psychiatric treatment has given him a conspicuous stoop. He seems to find it hard to look up into your eyes as he speaks due to the stoop. But he does smile a lot. There was an occasional laughter too, subdued though it was. “Have you retired?” He asked me. When I answered, his instant remark was, “Your grey hairs gave me the hint.” I had the same grey hairs when I met him two years ago along with J and I was teaching then. He had probably not noticed it that time. But he remembered me and also the fact that I was a teacher though the visit was very brief. “My hairs are grey too,” he added wi