Grateful for the recognition which comes our way…

Remembering the darkness, when light shimmers

The storms, when serenity smiles

The struggles, when peace prevails

And the power of human choice:

To determine, every moment, one’s life path.

The Lord Smiles…

Hanumanji was naughty in his childhood. I certainly believe that he carried that sense of humour into adulthood too! For the past one month, I was worried about the progress of multiple book projects- at various stages of publication- and felt sort of stuck.

Until, the Lord nudged my kiddo into gifting me her tablet. And I started on a wondrous, new adventure of sketches and wise cracks (chortling to myself). It was as if He wanted me to start off on another journey, before He would show me, what was up, with the other books-in-pipeline.

Surprise, surprise! When I no longer bothered, the publisher whose phone was continuously busy till now, suddenly sends me the final draft of Lanka Kanda- all 289 pages- for final editing.

What was Cavafy’s line on Ithaca?

‘Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

You’ll have understood by then, what these Ithacas mean.’

Women Talking

I have gone back to sketching after more than a decade. My daughter, off for her doctoral studies, gifted me her tab, sat me down and taught me like a kindergarten teacher : how to sketch in it.

“Amma, enjoy the technology. Go back to drawing.”

Never was I more petrified, never more delighted like a kid.

In the influx of joy, I sat down and blew on the embers of my soul. Maybe, one day, another book…:)

The Canticle of Effort

Certain books call out to you. They have your destiny entwined in their pages. Back in 2017, when I read ‘Purappadinte Pustakam’, something in its sparkling originality touched my heart. I reached out to the author and offered to translate it to English. I felt that the world deserved to meet the wonderful characters; laugh and cry along with them. The author, V.J.James, always affable and humble, erudite and kind, responded encouragingly. The journey began there. As the famous quote from Dao De Jing goes, ‘ A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.’

Today, we have translated six books together. Three novels : Anti-Clock, Nireeswaran and Dattapaharam have been released by Penguin Random House India. Next year, we hope to see ‘Purappadinte Pustakam’ or ‘ The Book of Exodus’ published. James had to struggle for more than a decade to see his debut novel in print. It evolved over the years, stained with sweat and tears.

Ironically, though it was the first book we completed together in the year 2018, the book took its own time to come to fruition. It has made me believe again in the subtle magic of words. We control nothing; only the effort is our portion. And when the results arrive, we have to humbly bow before the occurrence.

In an interview, long back, James was asked:

‘When do you think your books will get to a global audience?’

‘I believe in Akshara Shakti : the power of words.’

That makes me pause. And I reflect on the somber truth behind it all.

For words to grace us, we have to deserve their benedictions. To read and write more, to make the receiving vessel sparkle and shine, that choice alone is left to us. When and how the blessings pour, that is still under veils.

Every day gives us an opportunity to ready ourselves for the unseen grace. Though the mood is dark and apprehensive, or cheerful and sunny, or stoic and serene, we have to focus on the work at hand. The toil itself is the canticle. When raised to the heavens, by singing with a pure heart, the answer surely comes.

May the Lord guide us all into more and more fruitful endeavors; while staying detached and committed.


Are we grateful enough for whatever life we have been blessed with? Often, when troubles seem to be overwhelming, we end up afraid of the ‘monster inside the head’ which looms larger than life. The clouds seem darker, the whole world shrinks to a single pint of pain and we sink easily. Two incidents have perturbed me in the recent past. News about the suicides of two brilliant girls, leaving devastations in their wake. Both were adored children of their respective set of parents. Excellent academically, loved by everyone, no indication of any trauma. Just one unimaginable phone-call.

Shaking in grief, I ended up speaking to my own daughters about the deepest fears of parents. It does not matter what the trouble is, we are there for you. Nothing matters, more than your smiles. Stay happy and healthy. We shall overcome together. Realize that our lives are your safety nets and we shall love you unconditionally. It is true, parents tend to be harsh when it comes to discipline at times. But limits are drawn for your own good, mostly. I write mostly, because parents are fallible creatures too. We make our decisions based on whatever experiences we have garnered in our lives. But whether it is Iceland or Australia, irrespective of the language we speak, the colour of our skins, the god we believe in, there is a common factor which binds us together. You : the children. You matter.

Maybe we are at fault, trying to protect you always from life and its troubles. Tribulations strengthen the spiritual muscles. Even the protection is triggered by not wanting you to get hurt. My mother still prays ( and I tell her it is wrong) ‘Give the sickness of my children to me.’ I tell her, ‘Amma, pray that all stay healthy, including you.’ But now, as the journey moves close to autumn, I find myself contemplating about her attitude. And I can see why she prays like that. What she is saying in truth: ‘Let the pain be mine, not theirs. Let the cross be mine, give them the crown.’ That is the way of love, usually.

For any child thinking of ending it all, please stop for a moment. Pick that phone. Reach out. The monster in the head is imaginary. Your parents are not supporting the monsters. They care for your life. Just hold on and call them. We shall overcome together. As always.

Laika and One-Legged Crow : V.J.James

Two novellas by V.J.James : Laika and One-Legged Crow.

Few excerpts from these stunning novellas…(in translation). Hope they spread their sweetness across the world.


When the year 1957-58 was declared as the International Geophysical Year, both Russia and America, without each other’s knowledge, had started working on artificial satellites. Both parties spared no effort in spying on each other too. Yet, Russian space successes were always one step ahead of the game. It caused a grave injury to American pride that we succeeded in launching Sputnik, while US failed in putting in space a satellite weighing 2 kilograms. It was this defeat of the hitherto frontliner which motivated USA to establish NASA in 1958.

In the next decade, both the countries together contributed in sending almost 5000 artificial satellites to circle the earth. The credit of the first human in space in 1961 went to Russia while America conquered the moon in 1969- all a direct result of the invisible space race.  It was during the early stages of the space feud, which extended for years on end, that Laika the pup arrived; with the historic assignment of being the first link in the space journey, and I ended up narrating her tale to Priyanka.

Though named Laika, the nomenclature was not referring a lone canine. Laika was the common name for the breed of hunting dogs in Northern forests of Russia and Scandinavian countries. Alsatian, Pomeranian, Daschund…like these divisions, we too named the pup after a specific breed. From among the mongrels caught from Moscow’s streets, after ‘interviewing’ many, did we choose Laika as the space traveller. Her kind was adept in hunting down small creatures and birds like squirrels and partridges.  Howling wildly to indicate the presence of bigger animals, they were great enthusiasts in chasing and tiring out the preys, along with the owners. Though petite in appearance, their capacity to bark fiercely was legendary. That was why the breed got the name of ‘the one who barks’. They were very faithful and loving by nature. Besides, fitting her in the payload compartment was easy, considering her small size.

We Russians have a great liking for dogs. Most citizens consider owning high pedigree canines as a status symbol. The dogs are granted prominent positions within a household. Not only inside homes, but dogs have been companions in Russia’s scientific experiments also. It was because its blood circulatory system and respiratory mechanism were similar to that of a human being, that a dog was chosen as the first space traveler.  Although, considering the resilience and fortitude to overcome extreme cold and hunger, many street dogs were trapped and some canines were purchased from owners, the cast lots was in favour of Laika, due to her light weight, obedience and her non-ambivalence towards the special space food.

Irrespective of all the tricks up their sleeves, four adroit dog catchers could not snare this super smart little pup. She eluded their ruses many times. The catchers became provoked and determined to snag her in their nets by all means. By the time she was caught by the shore of a frozen lake, the dog trappers were perspiring even in the chill. That was the artificial lake we visited often in Moscow. Made by the arduous efforts of hundreds of political prisoners over a matter of years, that lake had a major influence in Russia’s ecology.

On hearing the finer details, Priyanka shot an array of questions.

‘What food do you give her? Mutton, fish?’

‘No dear,’ I replied, ‘a dog going to space cannot take fish or meat along. We give her a special gelatinized form of food.’

‘Where does she sleep, Papa?’

‘Inside a canister! She is very smart. So smart that she does not create a ruckus or get agitated like other dogs. Do you know what we tried last week? We made her don a space suit and conducted experiments inside a plane flying at high altitudes. There are so many more experiments pending trial…’

Priyanka, adept in the world of imagination, went on visualizing a space-suit clad dog. Insisting on seeing a picture, she made me sketch the scene.

‘Huh! What’s this? A mouse?’

Since I was poor in drawing, the dog I depicted was pathetically resembling a mouse!

Even Engineering Drawing had always been scary for me.

‘Today happens to be Sunday, right?’ To save face, I attempted a ploy. ‘See, if one sketches a dog on a Sunday, it will look like a mouse!’

‘Good that nobody sketched your picture today, Papa. Wonder which creature it would have resembled!’

When the guile, tried to deceive the innocence of childhood, was returned with its edge broken, I was rendered answerless. Yet, Priyanka did not abandon my dog belonging to the mouse species.

That night the child slept after listening to many more stories related to Laika.


One Legged-Crow

At the very bottom of the letter, there was an underlined reminder to Amma about feeding the One-legged Crow.

Though Amma fed all the crows, she had a special care for the one-legged one. Especially because Simon and his father had nurtured it until the little fledgling could spread its wings. It could neither land in places where other crows frequented nor maneuver itself and snatch a morsel of food. The leftovers were its sole hope. But chances for such crumbs were very small in a village. And so, Amma would always put aside something for the One-legged Crow. The bird too was aware of the routine. Without being the part of the raucous crowd, it would wait patiently in the anointed place, for its turn.

Apart from the crow, there was a squirrel too in the yard, that Amma fed regularly. There was a story behind the squirrel becoming a frequent guest. Once as it was relishing the rice drying on the palm-frond mattress, a cat had pounced on it. It was a smart aleck of a feline! If any dog wandered into the yard when it had given birth to its litter, the cat would unleash a terrible assault on the invader. It would scratch, hiss and yowl terribly. Due to the unexpected and ferocious nature of the attack, any mighty dog would lose its equanimity and flee for its life! The squirrel had been caught in the jaws of that canny cat!

Amma had somehow managed to salvage the squirrel from the fangs of the feline. The squirrel had bitten Amma desperately as it thrashed around for its life. A squirrel’s bite caused an intense, stinging pain. In spite of the agony, Amma was adamant on her life saving mission. The squirrel was on the verge of death, its neck mangled and bleeding. Ensuring water for the wretched creature, applying butter on the wounds, she murmured prayers while it lay on her palm and caressed it tenderly. Like a dead person resurrecting, the squirrel regained its life.

For a fortnight, the squirrel stayed close to Amma. On being able to climb trees, it scampered back but returned every day to eat cooked rice directly from Amma’s hands. One would be wonderstruck at the intimacy between animals and humans observing such interactions. Amma looked after the One-legged Crow and squirrel with the same dedication with which she cared for Simon. The pristine goodness of the village did not envisage distances between humans, animals or trees.

After writing the letter to his mother, Simon wrote in his daily diary with his black pen. It was a habit instilled in him from the ‘moral studies’ class at school. Then he scrawled a crow’s picture on the diary page too. There were many pictures scattered across the diary. Unconsciously, each picture would encapsulate the day’s poignancy. The last picture he sketched depicted the pang of separation in a dry, desolate background. His moral studies teacher at school had intoned that regular habits of writing and drawing helped to overcome inhibitions and even gain a mastery over both. Simon had used his golden pen for diary writing until now.

Now that Simon had to use the black pen, he was vexed at the start, but slowly the heavy burden seemed to move away. The humungous fears turned to be deceptive. It was easy to write with the black pen. There was an allure and elegance about the alphabets it crafted. Simon decided to use the pen for his immediate requirements until he visited home.

Simon’s hostel room was in the third floor. Intermittently, the resounding boom marking time from the tall tower could be heard. Especially during the nights, when all other sounds died down and nature stilled, the chime of the clock rang out louder and clearer. Since Simon was in the floor whose window opened out to the clock-tower, it was probably he who heard the time ring out first, feeling it most powerfully. Every time the clock tolled the time, Simon stared at it through the window. He saw the divine form standing with the hands spread over time.

Simon imagined sprouting two wings and taking a single flight from the hostel and landing at the zenith of the monument. In a way, it was predestined that he lived in such close proximity with the structure. The tower lured him to the days he spent with his Appan. It brought to mind Mesthiri, Outha and the village. Ruminating that Outha will be watching the same tower, which he watched at close distance, through his binoculars back in the village, Simon felt the distance between him and his home dwindling fast to become nullified. He visualized a hanging bridge connecting the acme of the clock-tower to the porch of his village home.

മണ്ണിൽ പലപല കുഴിയുണ്ടാക്കി…

അല്പത്തം അഥവാ അല്പത്തരം അഥവാ നീചം അഥവാ വിലകുറഞ്ഞ പ്രവൃത്തി അഥവാ petty /demeaning എന്നിങ്ങനെ മനുഷ്യന്റെ പല സംസാരങ്ങളേയും , പ്രവൃത്തികളേയും ദൈനം ദിന ജീവിതത്തിൽ കാണാൻ സാധിക്കുന്നു.
സോപ്പിട്ടു നില്കാത്തവർക്കാണ് സാധാരണ ഗതിയിൽ ഇത്തരം വാക്-വൃത്തികൾ നേരിടേണ്ടി വരുന്നത്.

‘അമ്പട ഞാനേ!’ എന്ന് വിചാരിക്കുന്ന, വിശ്വസിക്കുന്ന, അല്പരുടെ ആധിക്യമാണ് ഭൂമിയിൽ.

അവരില്ലെങ്കിൽ ഭൂമി അച്ചു തണ്ടിൽ നിന്നും താഴെ വീഴും, സുനാമികൾ ഉയരും, സൂര്യൻ ആകാശത്തിൽ നിന്നും മായും! അതവർ ആത്മാർഥമായി വിശ്വസിക്കുന്നു. അവർക്കു മരണമില്ല, ആരോഗ്യ പ്രശ്ങ്ങൾ ഒരിക്കലും ഉണ്ടാവുകയില്ല, അവർ ഭൂമിയിൽ നിന്നും ഒരടിപ്പൊക്കത്തിൽ സഞ്ചരിക്കുന്ന മഹത്തുക്കളത്രെ!

അങ്ങനെയുള്ള ആ മഹത്‌വ്യക്തികളെ നിങ്ങൾ വേണ്ട പൂർവം, ഉപചാരപൂർവ്വം മാനിക്കുന്നില്ലെങ്കിൽ, നിഴൽക്കുത്ത്‌, നേരിട്ടുള്ള ആക്രമണം, പിന്നിൽ നിന്നുളള അപവാദ പ്രചാരണം, പാർട്ടികളിൽ നിങ്ങളുടെ പേര് പറഞ്ഞുള്ള അട്ടഹാസവും പൊട്ടിച്ചിരിയും…അങ്ങനെ പല പല വിഭവങ്ങൾ സദ്യയിൽ വിളമ്പും.

പണ്ട് ‘അയ്യോ, നാട്ടുകാരെന്തോന്നു പറയും!’ എന്ന് ഉപദേശിച്ച ഒരു സത്‌സ്വഭാവിയോടു അച്ഛൻ ചിരിച്ചോണ്ട് പറഞ്ഞത് എനിക്ക് നല്ല ഓർമ്മ.
‘ചത്ത് പോയാൽ , ആരും വന്നില്ലെങ്കിലും, കോർപ്പറേഷൻ കുഴിച്ചിട്ടോളും. നിങ്ങൾ പാട് നോക്കി പോ!’

(വേറൊരു ആളുടെ അഭിപ്രായത്തെ പേടിച്ചു ജീവിക്കുന്നതിനേക്കാൾ ഭീകരമായ അവസ്ഥയുണ്ടോ? താലിബാനും അത് തന്നെയല്ലേ ചെയ്യുന്നത്? പെൺകുട്ടികൾ പഠിക്കരുത്!)

എന്തായാലും ചുറ്റും കേൾക്കാറുണ്ട് ധാരാളം : ‘ എല്ലാവരെയും ബഹുമാനിച്ചു വേണം കഴിയാൻ…പദവിയിൽ ഇരിക്കുന്നവരോട് എന്തിനാ വെറുതെ പോർവിളി?’
ബഹുമാനം അർഹിക്കുന്നത് പദവിയിൽ ഇരിക്കുന്നത് കൊണ്ടല്ല, മറിച്ചു ഒരാളുടെ വാക്കുകളും പ്രവൃത്തികളും കൊണ്ടാണ്.
എന്റെ കൂടെ ജോലി ചെയുന്ന പ്യൂൺ മുപ്പതു കൊല്ലമായി സേവനത്തിൽ. എത്രയോ കമ്മീഷണറുമാരെ ആ സാധു കണ്ടിട്ടുണ്ട്. എന്നെ ‘സർ’ എന്നാണ് സംബോധന ചെയ്യുന്നത്., ആ ആത്മാർഥത, അതെന്നെ സന്തോഷിപ്പിക്കുന്നു. ആ സമർപ്പണ മനോഭാവം, ജോലിയോടുള്ള commitment അതെന്നെ വിനയാന്വിതയാക്കുന്നു. ആ മനുഷ്യനെ ഞാൻ ബഹുമാനിക്കുന്നു. കൊടും തണുപ്പിൽ, രാവിലെ പത്തിരുപതു കിലോമീറ്റർ സൈക്കിൾ ചവിട്ടി എന്റെ ഓഫീസിൽ എത്തുമ്പോൾ ഞാൻ പറയും, ‘രാംസഹായി, ഹംകൊ ആപ് സെ കാഫി പ്രേരണ മിൽത്തെ ഹൈ’.

സമൂഹത്തിന്റെ മറ്റേക്കൊമ്പിൽ ഇരുന്നു പരദൂഷണം പറയുന്ന, വീമ്പടിക്കുന്ന, മറ്റുള്ളവരെ ഇകഴ്ത്തുന്ന, ആൾക്കാരെ കാണുമ്പോൾ ഞാൻ പണ്ട് അച്ഛൻ പറഞ്ഞതോർക്കും, രാംസഹായിയെ ഓർക്കും, പിന്നെ മിണ്ടാതെ എന്റെ പണി ചെയ്യാൻ തുടങ്ങും. അവർ അവരുടെ നേരമ്പോക്ക് നടത്തട്ടെ, നമുക്ക് ചെയ്യാൻ എന്തൊക്കെ നല്ല പ്രവൃത്തികൾ കിടക്കുന്നു.

ശുഭ നവവർഷം !

യാതൊന്നു ചെയ്‌വതതു നാരായണാർച്ചനകൾ …

‘ അമ്മേ, നല്ല മീൻ കിട്ടി, മസാലയുണ്ട്; ഒരു ഉള്ളിയും, ഒരു തക്കാളിയും. മീൻ കറി വയ്ക്കാൻ പറഞ്ഞു തരുമോ?’ ഗണിതമാണ് അവളുടെ വിഷയവും , ഉത്സാഹവും, ഉൾപ്രേരണയും. ആഹാര നിർമ്മിതി പഠിച്ചു തുടങ്ങിയതേയുള്ളൂ. കൂട്ടാൻ ഉണ്ടാക്കാൻ സുഹൃത്തും കൂടുന്നു. അറ്റകൈക്ക്‌, തണുത്തുറഞ്ഞ റോഡിൽ കൂടി അടുത്തുള്ള സ്റ്റോറിൽ പറഞ്ഞു വിട്ടു കുറച്ചു തേങ്ങാ പൌഡർ സംഘടിപ്പിക്കാം, കറിവേപ്പിലയും.

‘മക്കളെ, കൈപ്പുണ്യം എന്ന് വെച്ചാൽ, നല്ല സ്നേഹം മനസ്സിൽ നിറച്ചിട്ടു, ഭഗവാനെ ഞാൻ അന്നം ഉണ്ടാക്കാൻ പോകുന്നു, കൂടെ നിൽക്കണം കേട്ടോ, എന്ന് പ്രാർത്ഥിച്ചു കൊണ്ട്, വളരെ സാവധാനത്തിൽ, ലാളിത്യത്തോടെ ആഹാരം ഉണ്ടാക്കണം,’ ‘അമ്മ ഉപദേശിച്ചു.

‘ പരീക്ഷയ്ക്ക് മാത്രമല്ല, മീൻ കറി വെയ്ക്കുമ്പോഴും ഭഗവാനെ വിളിക്കാമോ?’ അവൾ ചിരിച്ചു.😊

‘ എന്തായാലും, മഞ്ഞളും, മല്ലിയും, മുളകും പുരട്ടി, തക്കാളിയും, നാരങ്ങാ നീരും ഉപയോഗിച്ച്, ഉള്ളി, എണ്ണ തുടങ്ങിയ സഹപ്രവർത്തകരെ കൂടെ ഉപയോഗിച്ച് ഒരു നല്ല ‘ടീം വർക്ക്’ ഞാൻ പറഞ്ഞു കൊടുത്തു. ‘ ‘കൈയിൽ ഉള്ള സാധനങ്ങൾ കൊണ്ട് പണ്ട് വലലനായ ഭീമൻ, അജ്ഞാത വാസക്കാലത്തു അവിയൽ വെച്ചത് പോലെ’, എന്നൊരു മേമ്പൊടിയും ചേർത്ത് കൊടുത്തു.

രാവിലെ എണീറ്റപ്പോൾ, ഒരു മെസ്സേജ് : ‘നല്ല ഒന്നാന്തരം മീൻ കറി ഉണ്ടാക്കി.’

കണക്കിനും, പാചകത്തിനുമുള്ള അടിസ്ഥാനം ലാളിത്യമാണ് എന്ന് ഞാൻ തിരിച്ചു മെസ്സേജ് അയച്ചു.

‘തണുപ്പാണ്, സ്വെയ്റ്റർ ഇട് എന്റെ കുഞ്ഞേ !’
‘എനിക്ക് ചൂടെടുക്കുന്നൂ !’
‘ അയ്യോടി! നാട് മുഴുവൻ വിറച്ചു വിറങ്ങലിച്ചു ഇരിക്കുമ്പോഴോ?’
‘ എനിക്ക് തണുക്കുന്നില്ല.’
അടുത്ത ദിവസം, യങ് റെബെല്ലിസ് ടീനേജർക്കു നല്ല പനി. രണ്ടു സ്വെയ്റ്റർ ഇട്ടിട്ടും ‘ തണുക്കുന്നു’ എന്ന് ചിണുങ്ങിയപ്പോൾ, ഞാൻ പറഞ്ഞു ‘തണുപ്പിന് അഹങ്കാരികളെ തീരെ ഇഷ്ടമില്ല. തുണിയുണ്ടായിട്ടു ഉടുക്കാതിരിക്കുന്നത്, ആഹാരം കഴിക്കാൻ ഉണ്ടായിട്ടു ഭക്ഷിക്കാതെ ഇരിക്കുന്നത്…ഇതൊക്കെ അഹന്തയുടെ ലക്ഷണങ്ങളാണ്. അവിടെ ‘ ഓൾഡ് ഫാഷൻഡ്‌ ‘ ഒരു അമ്മയെ ഉളളൂ – പ്രകൃതി. അവർക്കാണെങ്കിൽ സന്തുലനം വളരെ ആവശ്യമായ കാര്യമാണ് താനും.

‘ എടി, ഞാൻ മീൻ കറി ഉണ്ടാക്കി. നിനക്കെന്താ പനി പിടിച്ചോ? കഷ്ടം, അമ്മ പറഞ്ഞിട്ടും സ്വെയ്റ്റർ ഇട്ടില്ല അല്ലെ?’ ചേച്ചി കളിയാക്കിയപ്പോൾ, അനിയത്തി പൂച്ചകുട്ടി മുരണ്ടു , ‘മീൻ കറി edible ആയിരുന്നോ?’
‘ പണ്ടേ അവൾക്കു നല്ല ബഹുമാനമാണ്’, എന്ന് സിനിമ സ്റ്റൈലിൽ ചിരിച്ചു കൊണ്ട് ചേച്ചി അതിനെ കൌണ്ടർ

അപ്പോൾ ഞാൻ ഭഗവാനെ വീണ്ടും വിളിച്ചു . പഠിക്കാനും, ഭക്ഷണം ഉണ്ടാക്കാനും നേരത്തു മാത്രമല്ല, വെറുതെ ഇരിക്കുമ്പോഴും അദ്ദേഹം വാതിൽ അടയ്ക്കാറില്ലല്ലോ.
‘ കുഞ്ഞുങ്ങൾക്ക് ആയുസ്സും ആരോഗ്യവും നൽകി കൊണ്ടിരിക്കുന്ന , ആവശ്യത്തിന് ഭക്ഷണവും ഉടുപ്പും നൽകുന്ന , സ്നേഹം വാരിക്കോരി വിളമ്പുന്ന , ജീവിതത്തിൽ എല്ലാം എല്ലാം തന്നു കൊണ്ടിരിക്കുന്ന, സ്നേഹസ്വരൂപ, ഇതൊക്കെ ധാരാളം. ഇത് തന്നെ അമൃത്. നിറഞ്ഞു വിളയാടിയാലും ഞങ്ങളുടെ ഉള്ളുകളിൽ.’

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