Also, hope.

My Puthur ,My village .

As today  is the famous temple festival of my village at my home town palakkad(puthur vela), I miss not being there .This is the time I have fallen home sick.( The following narrative is partially imaginary though most of it never occurred in reality but I have spun it in a way I wanted it to be ) Dedicated to my fellow Puthurians to drive them back to the nostalgic days of childhood. I remember the village like it was yesterday. I have n't found beautiful things the chatter of happy children, the smell of roasted peanuts, and a clear, starlit sky.The maidan was bustling with activity as the crowd poured in. They spread coir mats, ate noisily and fought to sit in the first row. Kooth kavi took his place behind a big white screen and pulled us out of the dark box. Dramatically, one by one. In minutes, the loud bustle was reduced to pin drop silence.Paavu kooth is a traditional puppet play during the temple fest.We took our places in front of the screen and patiently waited for the strings around our limbs to tighten. He cleared his throat loudly and began, bringing his audience to a trance. They leaned forward, watching with widened eyes, as he effortlessly spun story after story with the slightest tug of a string. That night even the crickets seemed to respect the silence. The quiet interrupted only by the sound of gasps, sighs, laughter and finally, a loud, roaring applause.And then the puppets murmured ." And we performed, surrendering control of every limb in our body to him. We spoke, cried, laughed and danced when we were told to. For two long hours, their eyes would follow our every move. We’d stay quiet, smiling that ridiculous smile that was plastered on us, until we were returned to the box again. Usual routine.. For as long as I can remember, our evenings began with that familiar, eager silence and ended in a loud, roaring applause.""Uncle can you teach me"? A little girl quipped after the performance while kooth kavi packed his stuff. Kooth kavi was amused. They sat on the field that evening as the crowd shrunk into the night. He lit a lamp, pulled us out of our box and held us between his fingers. Just some paint, wood and sequins held together with old cloth, he said with pride. Her eyes widened. She reached for me and held my strings gently between her fingers. My arms moved. She looked at him in amazement. He laughed. "Tell me a story", he asked her. Sai thought for a moment, and began her story. Kooth kavi picked us up and brought it to life as she spoke, mirroring her thoughts with skilful precision.Time flew that evening. When her mother stormed onto the maidan to drag a teary Sai home for dinner, Kooth kavi picked me up and handed me to her. For you, he said, without thinking twice. I looked at Koot kavi in disbelief. I felt betrayed. Her eyes lit up as she reached for me, holding me tight between her palms as she walked home. I strained to look back at Kooth kavi, watching, as the only life I knew was being packed into a small box, and disappearing into the horizon. 

Photo credit : Arun Sankar Plakkat  Thanks for the perfect complimentary picture.