A poem

 Karkidakam

Hey there, Monsoon—
You found your way.
Wasn’t sure you’d show up,
With the world all talk of change and doom,
And skies too shy to make room.

But here you are, all gale and tide,
Storming in with your winds wide,
Like that brother who never calls ahead—
Just barges in, well-fed and wet.

You’ve brought that smell—
Of Kerala soil and mango spell,
Of sambar brewing, warm and thick,
Of old Cochin with memory slick.

The kids sleep deep, they dodge the bell,
Old men rock with tales to tell.
And women at windows, quiet as mist,
Think of Sita and what we missed.

You’re not just rain.
You’re not just grey.
You’re Karkidakam—the soul’s pathway.
A hymn, a vow, a whispered psalm,
A breath held deep in Ramayan calm.

You’re the month that bends our knees,
That calls the chants into the breeze.
Though roads flood and clothes don’t dry,
You teach us still to look up high.

So stay a while. Don’t rush past.
We’ve got some mantras meant to last.
Some tears to shed, some hearts to mend,
Some broken prayers we’d like to send.

And yes, the tea is hot and sweet.
Pull up a chair, rest your feet.
Just try not to break us as you bless,
O sacred month of heaviness.

First Sunday Karkidakam 2025

Not much difference from the picture posted a few weeks ago at the start of Monsoon. We have been rained in since then. The month of Karkidakam which bear the seriousness and the brunt of monsoon is here. This year the month has arrived in all its old Glory. Pouring and consistent just like in old days. 

The church was not that crowded and smelled of damp. Sunday best wet with rain drops. 

Oh! Pops, guide me...

A Baptism in progress on Sunday 29 June 2025

The church wasn’t crowded today, yet I still couldn’t find a place to sit for the 11:30 am service. The seating was full.

So I made my way to the Adoration Hall — a recent extension to the main church. Clean tiled floors, plenty of lights, and enough electric fans. It has a certain neatness, but also a temporary feeling to it. Perhaps that’s why I never prayed there before. Today was the first time.

I found myself sitting at the back, on the floor, leaning against the wall. Polyester pants — not the best choice. I kept slipping as I tried to stay in that leaning position, legs stretched out fully in front of me. But I stayed.

This church is many hundreds of years old, dedicated to the Holy Ghost. Generations have prayed here. The Adoration Hall, though new, is still part of this sacred space. And today, despite the slipping and discomfort, I prayed.

I started slowly, whispering the Adonai prayer — the one we’re supposed to say a hundred times a day. As I repeated the words, something within me grew still. The prayer deepened. The intensity grew. And slowly, I reached that final, quiet realisation.

I remembered what Jesus said during His trial. He declared He is the Son of God — not only that, He also promised that they will see Him return, seated at the right hand of the Father. And then… He died. And He rose again. And He consecrated His Body and Blood — His everlasting sacrifice — for the forgiveness of sin.

These four truths I believe with all my heart. And if I believe this, truly believe, then my prayers will be heard. That is His promise. As I thought about this, it filled me — this fierce, humbling hope. I could feel its power settle into me.

Yes, I had lost the opportunity God gave me — the work that came my way. If that loss was my mistake, I admit it. I learn the lesson. Maybe I’m not meant for jobs. Maybe I’m meant to do something on my own. But I confess, after giving up that job, the guilt lingered. How could I stand before God? How could I pray for new things when I let opportunities slip away, one after another?

But I know this much — at that job, I had no problems with anyone, except one. I can say it to You, my God — it was that man and his attitude. Real men do not blame others. Huh! 

Creator of the Universe, I believe in You. If I am to do something on my own, let it come my way. Make it clear. Give me the strength to rise and get on with it, as soon as possible.

I believe in you  Jesus. Amen.