Thendral Vanthu Theendum Pothu…

The 21-year-old bent forward, restlessly, on the cushioned wooden chair he had been sitting on for many hours now. His face was covered with a film of oil secreted by itself. Thin and short hairs had sprouted under his nose; a few were scattered on his cheeks. Behind his lenses were two troubled eyes, staring straight ahead.

His head was filled with incomplete images of Her. Sometimes Her eyes. Sometimes the hand he had held in his. And sometimes… some images. He was throbbed by the forty kilometres between them… He didn’t know when he would next meet those eyes that made him feel his masculinity, and sucked time enough to make even those rare long trysts painfully short.

His room was dark, but not bleak. The windows and the door that led to it were firmly shut. Inside, he was alone with a radio singing for nobody. The combination of 21 years and a beautiful girl in it can make you play life strangely. More so, if you are living far away.

 

Nesam poranthale udambellam eno silirkuthu

Aalam vizhithaaga aasaigal oonjal aaduthu…

 

He inclined on the armrest to reach the radio. Going backward on the tape and turning the volume knob clockwise…

 

Oda neeroda intha ulagam adhu pola

Odum athu odum intha kaalam adhu pola

Nilaya illatha ninaivil varum nirangale…

 

Again going backward on the tape…

 

Nilaya illatha ninaivil varum nirangale…

 

‘Shades that recur in the wavering memories,’ he translated silently, and meditated, reclining moodily on the sofa, upon the words that wafted through the many holes in the frame of the radio woofer. Taken away farther and farther from the room, dissolved in the female voice rendering the song, he discovered that, after all, She was with him… in the lanes of memories opened to him by the song… bending and curving in accordance with the mesmerizing melody and the voice faithfully producing it.

 

Vanthu vanthu poguthamma, ennamellam vannamamma

Ennangalukku etha padi vannamellam maarumamma…

 

Images, complete enough for him to tangibly feel Her, began to take control of his feverish mind. She was there right before him, leaning on the closed door, arms folded, one leg close in front of the other, smiling invitingly, and eyeing him affectionately. The image was a carefully made collage sourced from his memories of Her. The dark room and the gliding lines gave Her a dreamy aura.

 

She was indeed a dream.

 

Thendral vanthu theendum pothu enna vannamo manasula

Thingal vanthu kaayum pothu enna vannamo ninapula…

 

[Click the above lines to hear the song… you would love to!]

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Email Address:

Subscribe