Dear Diary

Dear Diary,
It was evening 4:30 pm. As usual my mother had begun her garden hobnobbing and my sis her routine law embalming (being a law student, she had the practice of reading out Indian penal codes and revising it all over again). I decided to go to the temple, a little bit of prayers i believe would yield good result.........I was there .Temple resembled an archaeological monument with it’s astute workmanship, dazzling in the setting sun .The Temple had its virtue embedded in political History. Kerala’s cultural Historians enlighten the tale of a lady who in spite years of her marriage was unable to conceive. On a saints advice she had come to oorakkam (the place where this particular temple stands) from her remote habitation and went fasting here for months, solemnizing Lord Shiva. On due course, karkiddaka masam (a month associated with the monsoons in Kerala) a karim pooyam naal (the 8th star according to the astrological calendars) she gave birth to a baby boy who later was a very predominant king in Kerala’s political anecdote. The awesome, fiery Shaktan Thampuran was thus born (taking a lenient look in Kerala’s History, this particular king was acknowledged as the Father of Thrissur Pooram, a festival marked by the display of 30 elephants in their most resplendent attire and a gala of events preceding it symbolizing a cultural feud between the deities).
I parked my vehicle outside.
Well i checked out the premises to spot out any familiar faces. Well i did find thirumeni (the temple priest) moving around quite fast with a small pot of water, carrying it inside. Prayers and religious rites definitely need a real definition at least a precision on the format they are undergone, according to me. I moved closer to the temple .I stood with my hands folded in devotion my eyes drooping but transfixed on to the roof of the temple and uttered a few religious doggerels .This sacrosanct performance was not propelled out from sheer devotion but it was an obligatory call to the Lord to acknowledge him my presence there ,a practice which i had followed since childhood.
i decided to get inside when a familiar face slowed my pace Being my dads good friend ,i enjoyed a good rapport with Valsan uncle. Either he had completed his religious rituals and came from the temple or i was unaware of his presence there .My consciousness brightened at my concentrating aptitude .Usually my prayers used to be carried away by trivial matters especially about my exams or the people present around but this time a fief of devotion did grip me .i gave him a warm smile. He reciprocated; inquired about my dad and told me to proceed on .I went inside.
I had the usual procedure of a chitchat conversation with thirumeni before i had begun with my normal customary prayers. But he was not inside the inviolable room where the idol depicting lord was kept. I did feel a little uneasy as this had been my usual practice.
Thirumeni was an incomparable, vivacious personality .Not just succumbed to ordinary religious doctrines like the common temple priests,
Thirumeni had his miscellaneous outlook on every day to day (polemical or non) events .A short man with a shrewd smile, his chest bending over every time a smile pops out , camouflaging a sundry and perceptive knowledge base promulgated often to certain signified worshippers, me being one among them . i personally adored him .We used to talk on vivid range of matters which included even politics. Just imagine politics being a bone of contention in the temple premises. It was he enjoyed that conversation too .A uneasiness did grip me, a sort of anomaly.

I looked around for him. Not in sight. Some where inside.. i was looking around when two amiable smiles greeted me..Anju, Valsan uncle’s daughter and her sister Ammu .i knew them from childhood.
I used to come across Ammu often either cuddled up back on her fathers' kinetic or at the bus stop with her school bag which weighs almost as her. I had always remained bewildered by the quantity of books children used to carry which almost resembled hard earning potters...but its been years since i have seen Anju ,the last time during one of my semester vacation ...Time had changed her too .She now
possessed a full fledged smile unlike the past and kept to herself an aroma of the eldest in the family. Her spectacle enveloped eyes refused to sideline itself from her perpetual smile. The way she guided her sister
a clearly personified the leverage and pragmatism proliferated in her during the times . Well i did gracefully acknowledge their smile.

I stood in front of the Lord. I kept my eyes closed but my mind was wandering. Clouds, isn’t the one we see today the one we see tomorrow? or is it different ...that’s why we use the synonym passing clouds....Not a
single cloud would emancipate itself from its allotted natural duration to emboss, relieve the world once its done with it's chore .periodic action .if I am the world and then the clouds are the faces that move in
and out intermittently then the wind of course would be the scales of fate ardent enough to orchestrate the clouds to new a destination thereby tantalizing the world ,a mere spectator to these sequence of events. ......
all these thoughts ran in my mind ..

.i looked at Anju ...she gave me a warm smile again. .i reciprocated.. i prayed .. bowed came outside the temple...i looked up into the sky...
it was a clear sky getting dark...the sun had just set. Far in the dim light, i spotted a solitary cloud ...it had just greeted the world and was waiting for the winds to guide it never to turn back.... ......

Shereen Vijayan Kottikkal