സ്വന്തമാണു പക്ഷെ...

എനിക്കു ഒരുപാടു ഇഷ്ടമുള്ള വരികളാണു .....
കോളെജിലെ ഓര്‍മകള്‍ വീണ്ടും... അവിടെ വച്ചു കുറിച്ച വരികള്‍...

സ്വന്തമായി ഞാനെന്നും കരുതിയതെല്ലാം,
എന്‍ പിന്‍ വിളികള്‍ക്കു കാതോര്‍ക്കാതങ്ങ്‌ അകന്നു പോയി.
മൂകമാം ഈ സന്ധ്യയില്‍ ഞാന്‍ ഒരു
ചെറുപുഷ്പ്പം പോല്‍ വാടി നില്‍ക്കെ,
ദൂരെ ആ സാഗരം പാടും ഒരു ഗാനം
കാറ്റായി എന്നെ സ്പര്‍ശിക്കവെ..
എന്‍ ഉള്‍കണ്ണൂ കണ്ടു ആ സത്യത്തെ..
ഒന്നും ആരുടെയും സ്വന്തമല്ല,
എല്ലാം മനുഷ്യഹ്രുദയത്തിണ്റ്റെ ചാഞ്ജാട്ടം മാത്രം.

എന്നു "സ്വന്തം",
രാഹുല്‍ എസ്‌. നായര്‍

Living With Them

It' tough!! Ok.. coming to what's tough...I cooked up this whole blog because i was bored in office today. Yeah! I did . Cool right. Iknow.
Them in the title basically refers to three beautiful blond super sexy chicks who I live with.
OH!!Yeaaaaaah!!
See, now you are imagining. Now as the brain exercise is over, "them" actually means my room mates who are everything but _______ blond super _____ chicks. [Those parts have actually been censored for my existence on earth.]

Them 1 is a guy a named Jobin or Jobsy[yeah like Chopsuey.chopsuey jobsy,jobsy chopseuy..
ahem!!]

Fact File
----------
Name : Jobin Thomas
Interests: watching movies( that too romantic english movies...) and browsing
Habit : Nocturnal(sleep : 5-9 am). Nocturnal doesn't sound right. sort of like a cross between software developers : one who did morning shift and one who did night shift.
Habitat: Computer Room

NO!!NO!! NO!! you got it wrong. He is not the guy with thick glasses staring at the computer and drooling with mouth wide open. He is the guy with out the glasses and the drool(well sometimes...). But he finds time to do all his stuff before all this. May be he has got this awesome time machine thing that he is not sharing it with me (that bloody sun of a gun).If he doesn't share neither am I going to share the chocolate I got today.

Them 2 is Govind [ As the name suggests you may be thinking of a guy with innocent eyes , a
dash of ash on his forehead. Let me advice you STOP!! you are thinking too much than you age allows you to.The only way he could be named Govind is that his Mom saw him for the first time and he was having a beer bottle in his hand. She must have screamed out loud ... GOVINDAAA... I would have if I had a kid like that,even you would have, admit it. Coming to think of that, I have to think of a better name to scream in such a situation.. How about BRAD PPITTTT.. or JAMESS BONDDDD... Lot of time to think over that. Now coming back to the subject. The baby got his name finally. He is a Software Engineer who is always under work pressure (welcome to the club, have a seat on the toilet , the club is really cramped). He has a Car. He has a pair of socks.

Them 3 is Jason.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jason
Jason (Greek: Ιάσων, Etruscan: Easun) was a Greek mythological figure. His father was Aeson, the rightful king of Iolcus, and his mother was Amphinome.
That was just for general knowledge. He is not the son of Aeson and Amphinome... If he was He would have a tough time telling his Mom's name .. every time it would sound as I'm Phi Know Me?? People would think , Phi, cool name. May be his brother is Phu. He is a playboy. He really plays basketball well and he is like a boy. He has this cool bike which he rides like the ghost rider. You know what I mean... Ghost... Oh God!!I'm so funny.

Then finally the hero arrives.... The fighter of all evil...Spreading light through the darkness ..
(Claps.....)
I don't like to flatter myself . Being a software engineer the first thing you are taught is to tell whatever you have done in a blown up way. Suppose you have done nothing you can adjust with the big words like optimization,analyzing tree structures.. Amma!! I don't even realize what i am saying...
It would be unfair that I leave out myself considering the praises i have showered upon my room mates. See, as you would have already guessed I am obsessed with writing crazy stuff... But, hold on, that doesn't mean in anyway that I am crazy. If you use better words like psychopathic maniac or stuff like that I will have to agree Because I don't understand those big words, I would rather think you are praising me. I am a perfectionist i.e; to mean that if there was a speck of dust on my table, it would better be there the next time I look... otherwise I don't care who the bloody hell has moved it.. I want it back there!!!
I have a Mush and that too a good one... its so good it helps me keep that my part of my face covered up ... I am thinking of now better ideas like a beard , a pair of glasses... In the end I can imagine myself becoming the most handsome hunk around here... BOOKINGS OPEN NOW!!!!

And here's one thing that very less people know... My mom and dad actually named me Pankaj first.. But luck was with me, I don't know why. (No offences to the name Pankaj but it is really easy to make funny names with it like panku, pankunni ...)May be I pissed on people who called me that name...( Beware!! Danger Baby here... Oh!! Boy , i was damn smart back then), My dad decide to change it to Rahul.Now it seems Pankaj is a cool name after all. In a crowd of 6 , there are atleast 5 Rahul's other than me... Thanx to Bollywood...

To my room mates : If you think I have been unfair to you... I would say... This is my own bloody blog... You go and write whatever you want in yours... Yeah, bring it on...

Guys you know its like living with half headed guys , when I am with you. Your half head and my half head makes it One HELL of a head....

ഒരു കടലാസിലെ കുറിപ്പുകള്‍

കഴിഞ്ഞ ദിവസം പഴയയൊരു സഞ്ജിയില്‍ കിടന്ന കിട്ടിയ ഒരു കീറ കടലാസില്‍ എഴുതിയിരുന്നതാ...
തിയതി - 10-04-2006

നിറഞ്ഞു എന്‍ മിഴികലില്‍ കണ്ണുനീര്‍ തുള്ളികള്‍,
ഓരോ തുള്ളിയും സ്നേഹതിന്‍ കവിതകള്‍.
കവിളില്‍ നനഞ്ഞിറങ്ങിയ കുളിരാര്‍ന്ന,
വരികളില്‍ ചിലതെഴുതിയ കവി ,
നീയാണെന്‍ സുഹ്രുത്തേ....
നിന്നുടെ വരികള്‍ എന്‍ ജീവനില്‍,
തഴുകിയുണര്‍തിയാ ഗാനം,
സുന്ദരമാം സുഹ്രുത്തേ..
സുന്ദരമാം സുഹ്രുത്തേ..

അതിലെ മറ്റു കുറിപ്പുകള്‍...

കാറ്റില്‍ മണ്ണിന്‍ ഗന്ധമൊഴുകും നേരം,
നെഞ്ജില്‍ തേങ്ങും വിടയുടെ നൊംബരം...
(may be jithu and raghesh remember these lines....)

പിന്നെ ഇതും.....
COMSKYS RULEZ FOREVER... ;)

--Rahul Nair

A Gift To The Heart

Is solace anywhere more comforting than in the arms of a sister.
~Alice Walker

I wrote about her when I was 7 years old, A poem for my school magazine. Of course I didn't write it my Dad did. Maybe I should have written this long Back.

Into earthly hands she was born,
An angel without wings to adorn.
Her radiant face and her full round eyes,
And those looks like she was about to cry,
Her childish giggles and her baby talks,
Still in my ears do ring with unlost charms.

I remember the moments when her lips curved down,
With a tiny trail of shiny tears,
And all this just to look her best,
In her cherry dyed favourite dress.

Aha! and how would I forget those pillow fights,
At the end of which she would run to Mom and Whine.
There went the cane on my buttocks,
Those are now joyful memories which in my heart do reside.

Times were there when I would cry in a corner,
After Dad's treatment on me was conferred. (Ooooh!! the thought of it still pains)
She would come and give me solace,(which was of course no good)
She would sit beside and see me through the phase.

And look now she is a fine Lady,
Who gives me advice as if I am the Baby,
Her baby talks now makes more sense
Alas.. It hasn't changed- the way she cries. [;)]

But she is to me still the little one,
Who cried for her cherry dyed favorite dress;
The angel without wings to adorn
But with lots of love to endow.

--Rahul Nair

A life without her...
I can't think About ...

The Mountain And The Wind

The real religion of the world comes from women much more than from men - from mothers most of all, who carry the key of our souls in their bosoms.
-Oliver Wendell Holmes

He stood there so tall and proud,
An old wind still lingering around.
He was a fine mountain,
Enveloped in trees , streams and fountains.

He looked beyond those mountains greater
To see his mother his creator.
In a warm wind suddenly covered was he,
She had come sensing his anxiety.

[photo by foto3116]

She caressed him in gentle strokes,

Soothing the trees, streams and the rocks.
She was proud of him,her son
All that she in rain and sun had done.

She softened the rocks and -
Withered them into fine sand.
From which green shoots had -
Sprung up high and dyed.

She would blow the dark clouds over
For the beasts ,the birds and the flowers.
She guarded him from the heavy snows,
Lest he felt the bitter cold.

All these years of love and care
Had given her moments so proud and rare.
But she wouldn't stay there for long,
Her babies are waiting for their bed time song.

--Rahul Nair