Magical Realism

Dionysia Circle, 28, died in a freak accident while performing practicals of Apparation Course as she reappeared on to the path of a runaway thestral, 2 feet away from the emergence area.

Ms.Circle who moved to London to study magic after 6 years of IT service industry work was remembered as a enthusiastic student who was older than most teachers at Hogwarts Magical Education of the Elderly program.

She is known to have frequently remarked that learning to apparate would reduce the onsite-offshore resourcing charges not to mention any travel related per diems leading to competitive quotes that translate to more projects thus increasing profitability margins in the third quarter results of the IT company. "Classic Di", remarked one of her apparating class friends," so funny with her irreverent jokes that no body got except that they were absurd and made up words!".

Her apparation ed teacher Mr. Silverfield commented on the unfortunate circumstances of her death. "Quite senseless it was", he grumbled from disgust, "there it was galloping away, minding its own business when she apparated right in front of it, scaring the beejeezs out of the poor thing". He went on to mention that if she had reappeared within the marked circle, the exercise on completion of which she would've gotten her license, the needless Thestral Trauma could have been avoided. "All she needed to do was be less of a cretin but noooo". This is the first recorded case of magical death from being a cretin.

The statistics of trampling accidents involving invisible creatures is growing and so are drunk/underage/unskilled apparating related accidents. Since Ms.Circle's sad demise fits on the union of 2 such large sets, it stands to reason that it would be all the more likely.

The thestral involved, Inviorse, has been admitted for intensive therapy to examine why its feelings of unadequacy about its appearance (wanting to look more like a unicorn), a bane from the media images beamed into every home, lead to its running indiscriminately into a field marked for apparation practice. "Tell me about your mother", we overheard its therapist asking of Invi, as its known to friends. Dr.Fried was addressing the blank space on the opposite corner of the thestral and had to be physically turned around, by our news team, to face his invisible patient.

The IT service company has issued a statement saying "BCP will be implemented and We are happy to announce the Cathbert HR plan to reanimate Ms.Circle's corpse so that she may track to schedule on her allotted tasks after the short rejuvinating vacation provided by the Thestral incident".

Marma Desam - Land of the mysteries

October season here is the time for thrills and chill, Halloween will be here soon.
Our trip to Six Flags last weekend marked the first of the Ghouls Parade with the central fountain in the color of blood.
Relevantly enough, I discovered Rajshri site which let me view the one serial which I wanted to see desperately, when I was a school kid in chennai, but never actually managed to (until now)- "Vidathu Karuppu".

The opening/ending credits with the graphics of the fiery white horse galloping in the darkness remained in my memory so vividly that it literally transported me to the age of pigtails, brown paper covered notebooks and ink stained fingertips for a few minutes.

In a span of one week, I saw all 80 episodes and really marveled at almost all facets of this serial, be it the gripping screenplay, the mesmerizing direction of dangling scenes from past and present in every episode sprinkling it generously with red herrings to tie it neatly in the end, the vivid and wonderful cinematography or the very well etched out characters and acting.

It was a delicious melange of a story- An ancient crone, many years after meeting a gory end at the hands of a protective village deity that has since had a strong influence on the lives of the people of the village, still haunts her house and the minds of the many people who search for the jewels and the land contracts that she hid away.
A young doctor, Reena, comes into the village initially to help two of her friends get together but gets entangled in the layers of mystery in the village and wishes to disprove all the superstitious beliefs, whether it be unveiling vigilante Karuppu himself who metes out justice dispassionately from professed godhood or unraveling the clues left behind by the evil genius, Bulaku Pechi Aatha.
Also added to the chaos is her Chief Dr Nanda, who discovers that he has been chosen to come to Thottakaramangalam by the ancients for a specific role connected to an expected Avatar.

The cherry on top is the extremely accurate portrayal of the village life from the eyes of a child, the easter egg being each episode featured the young Rasu (protagonist) playing a different game or toy, most of which children now a days would not even recognize.

I would recommend this most vociferously to anyone who understands Tamil. This is NOT TO BE MISSED as its one really cool freebie :)

The reason this serial has stayed in mind, prompting me to atleast watch it decade after it was originally telecast, probably has to do with a coincidental back story.
We had only then discovered that our family deity was a Karuppana Swamy in the edge of a still undeveloped part of Orathanad in Thanjavur. I have only visited the temple once so far and still remember the dilapidated temple complex, the massive banyan trees growing amidst the crumbling bricks of a once vibrant and well maintained protective deity who had secured the vast agricultural lands that bordered, which once belonged to our family many many generations ago.

The image of the extremely large and powerful man, an epitome of unprejudiced justice, protection of the faithful aboard a flawlessly white horse, holding an intimidating Aruval is extremely fascinating in the most primeval way.
The Karuppu is human like in his love of liquor, hand rolled smokes and goat meat.

My maternal grandmother has told me of the time that her mother had, while walking back all alone in the night of a threatening, unlit and isolated brush path had prayed to the Ayyanar for his protection from all the dangers (natural and otherwise) in her path and had been heartened to hear the footfall sounds of a heavyset man wearing the salangai (loudly tinkling anklets) all the way to the entrance of her village. She also distinctly remembers her mother mentioning the strong smell of surutu(hand rolled tobacco cigars)which had accompanied the sound of the steps completely vanishing once she was near home and help. Sadly though, my great grandmother, never felt the need to turn around once to see her escort. Although he was a protector, apparently Ayyanar/Karupanna Swamy wasn't known to be a benevolent and loving deity.

My mother mentions either a friend of hers or his brother (I am vague as to exactly who) having encountered something very possibly like the Karuppu in the early daybreak in the village borders. He was apparently a giant of a man, casting off all doubt of his being human, who seemed to be calmly enjoying his suruttu and sarayam (country brewed liquor). When this person spoke out, the being noticing that there was company, just disappeared into the mists with eerie grace.

These anecdotes can probably be described either as illusions from a sleepy brain or a frightened mind eased by imagination; maybe even outright lies...nevertheless they excite and enthrall.

I am completely smitten by Naga's Marma Desam projects (hats off to him)and have started "Swarna Reygai" (Golden line of the palm). If it is as good as 'Vidathu...' then you will probably get to know about it from me soon.

Thrilled,
Rain

Building A Mystery

The Inspiration...

You come out at night
That's when the energy comes
And the dark side's light
And the vampires roam
You strut your rasta wear
And your suicide poem
And a cross from a faith that died
Before Jesus came
You're building a mystery

You live in a church
Where you sleep with voodoo dolls
And you won't give up the search
For the ghosts in the halls
You wear sandals in the snow
And a smile that won't wash away
Can you look out the window
Without your shadow getting in the way?

- Sara McLachlan - 'Building a Mystery'

The Creation...

He is not easy to read and she never felt like she could get to him when it mattered. All the moments they had in between were just a few flashes of his indulgence of her and not dropping of the wall he had built to keep her out.

The Rules would have her not speaking her mind to him so she appeared mysterious but it wouldn’t work for two main reasons – he wasn’t her Mr.Right, secondly he wasn’t speaking his mind to her.

Just once and in half jest she remarked that she didn’t know why she still hung around with him and he looked at her in a cold, clear way and repeated the question-
“Why? Why do you really?”
She faltered then like she knew what he would say next…
Suddenly she didn’t want to hear another word; it was almost as if she was afraid of what he meant to say in answer to his own questions, as if somehow those would be the cement on the last brick that would put him in a room blocked from her.

Then a period of mellow happiness would follow, making her forget the dark clouds of his penitent moods that only she seemed to observe or acknowledge. He was unfailingly polite and cool to everyone. It was easier to prove that ghosts exist than to have someone else understand that he was not as well-adjusted and sure as he seemed to be.

He always had two other thoughts in his head concurrently with his inane general conversations and that he deliberately always never paid any amount of concentration to anything she had to tell him- personally, over phone or by mail.

Yet he kept coming back. He always called if there was a silence from both ends for more than a couple of days. The weekends were always together. Together but apart.

He instigated some changes in her that she didn’t like. She suddenly wanted to be small and lovely. So that she could affect him in some way, make him look at her, really look at her and see her. She wished that he would think of her, miss her or look forward to seeing her. She wondered if she really loved him, or if she just loved the idea of wanting all that she can’t have. Did she crave the masochistic pain of constant bereavement of something that never was?

Would she want him if he also liked her back?
Probably not, she decided. After all allure of the mystery lasts only a finite number of pages. Besides it would be genre clash to mistake suspense for romance.

Just like that, the furrows of strain on her forehead disappeared to non-existence and a new train of thought occupied the neural pathways - correct time to switch to non-fiction for a while?

my first fiction,
Rain