Meena Mangalathil:

                              I think I'll have to risk start writing and I would like to begin with a children's story. Today I’m going to start a new adventure series of a spider. I hope you'd like it but do suggest on ideas of what should the adventure be too.               A little spider name spidey lived in a nook of a house in a rural area, unseen by anyone in the wash basin cabinet under the wash basin. Everyday he heard some noise on the   basin, sometimes very noisy and continued for a long time, sometimes for just short periods. But he didn’t know it was the water falling, but he was used to it and he didn’t question anyone. He had lots of insects near his web (house of a spider) and he didn’t had to worry of vacuum cleaners or brooms coming to his place and demolish his web. He usually made small web swings from one end of the hose to the other, to the L shaped PVC to the T shaped PVC pipe. He just grew slowly.           One day he heard the falling noise the w

                    A week later, a Sunday, after the Sunday mass, I was alone at home watching a movie, I received a phone call. A girl, asking, “Is it Meena?” I replied, “Yes, I’m Meena.” “Just a minute and then the phone was taken by another person, It was Thomas friend, an advocate. Since he has this professional acumen(expertise) of talking and seeking the truth and exposing it, he just straightforwardly told, “Meena, Meena, Meena, that’s the only thing Thomas has to say to us for the past week.” Thomas, took the phone, and just said, “Hello, How are you? What news? I would like to meet you.” Just that and he talked something of this and that and the phone was cut. My heart had stopped beating and I just had the weirdest sensation in my temple(forehead). But then I controlled my feelings because I didn’t want to get hurt myself a second time.           The stipulated time arrived for our meeting. That was the first time I was going to meet a man clandestinely (in secret). I was a

                    God, just imagine the immaturity of a 16 year old. When I think about it now, I feel so stupid. The children of today are more mature than my generation. But I was happy because I at least heard that I received a letter. But my dad was serious, he asked the warden, “Then I would like to see that.” “Sorry, I didn’t expect you’d come, so I burnt it because it was very vulgar.” I could feel him controlling his anger. He said, “Well, now I know, my child is a normal girl.” The sister went beet red. Even I too was stunned by my dad’s response but at least he was sane in his behaviour, but my mother was so angry with Thomas that she asked the warden not to send me alone home. Someone will arrive to take me during holidays. Hearing this sister’s ego was settled but my trouble had just started. No one knew that there was a curfew for me. My parents left, but before departure, my dad took me by his side and putting a hand on my shoulder said, you have entered into a world

          So where did I leave? yes here, I really wanted to say that, I reached here safely by night (thank God he is OK). How is your studies? Well, I replied to myself, Oh, OK, I always think of you. Do not skip your study time. You should not idly waste your time. It is very important that you should study nicely and score high marks. Now I had an eerie feeling, that this letter is not a love letter, its just like what my mother and father sends me every month and a lot more and there was only one love in that letter, in the end part, lovingly Thomas.           God I was doomed. That heart feeling might have happened to my lungs, I didn’t reply. He wrote again and in that he asked why didn’t I reply, that was a change because my parents don’t ask me to reply, I write when I need something. But here he specifically wrote asking me to reply. What should I write for a person who asks me to study and don’t waste my study time and all that? So I wrote, Dear Thomas, (that’s decent, righ

                    My life was shuttled from one boarding to another according to my parents transfers and my brother’s naughtiness. My parents ensured that we study in mixed school as to avoid love affairs and the complications of facing the opposite sex. I think their idea really worked well for me. Since I had been in mixed school from kindergarten there wasn’t any difference between girls and boys. We were all “ Friends ”.           And boarding schools are the best place to thrive on intricate details of love affairs and love letters. But unlucky me I didn’t even get a single love letter in my school life and I really wanted to read a love letter because the person who gets it keeps it so secretly (due to fear of the boarding mistress getting hold of it) that any chance of a free read was impossible. My only relief was I had company in that sector too. My friends, (in every school I had 1 Best friend and 2 good friends) after my adolescence were in the same boat as me, we really

            It happened when I was a wife, I have not become a mother but we had lot of financial constraints and it was with great difficulty that we survived our daily expenses as we had to rely only on farm produce. We had our parents too and there were visitors regularly. So we couldn’t do anything but spend and spend and spend. I didn’t know that we were in real financial crisis. But one day I asked Thomas (my husband) to buy some Ladoos for me. I was expecting a 10 piece packet at the minimum, so when he returned home after shopping, he with a broad smile gave me a small packet. I thought it was a surprise gift, and I was surprised for sure but the gift was ladoos. There were only three. I asked, why three? Two for you and one for me. I couldn’t control my tears. I started howling out into my pillow, as I didn’t want anybody to know about my humiliation. On that day he told me his dire situation, his debts, his commitments as the youngest son which his parents had passed on to h

          So seeing death was a real rare gift, which we won’t be lucky to get every now and then, but I did get it one more time when I was near my aunty’s death bed. I call her Ammachi (meaning mother). She became my mother when I was 6 months old and she took care of me till I was ready to go to school and from then on she was my mother and mother to a lot of family members too. She was loved by all.           She was the only sister of my dad. She was a very kind lady. She helped a lot of people during her hay days. She was very generous to the poor. She loved her children dearly. She had her flaws, who doesn’t, but she was a very very loving person and very lovable too. So she had lots and lots of visitors when she was in her death bed, which as usual no one was aware of it as she had lots and lots of stints and near death calls. So as usual I came to visit her in hospital. When I reached her room the corridor too was overflowing with Ammachi’s visitors. I couldn’t even get to st