Albicelestes

as a seven year old, i would have preferred to snug under the blanket rather than sit late at night and watch 22 fools run after a ball across a 100 yard green field, just for the sake of a trophy. thats what i had thought when papa asked me whether i wanted to watch the final of italia '90. anyways i sat along-with him in our house on salwa road, qatar, to watch the finale being held at stadio olimpico in rome between west germany and argentina. over the years, i had become a soccer fanatic who liked pace in the game, so it was ironical that i started off by watching the final of the 1990 world cup, a tournament which had produced the least number of goals in history. the tournament generated a record low goals-per-game average and a then-record of 16 red cards. most teams relied on defensive play and hard tackling and aggressive intimidation of the referee.

i saw players running all across the field. papa explained to me the rules of the game and how one has to get past the guardian of the fort and score a point. i was waiting and waiting.....

papa also pointed at a stocky player in blue and told me it was maradona and told me he was the greatest. i tried rubbing my eyes and other perky things not to fall asleep. towards the end rudi voller was felled down by the argentinian defender, the mexican referee awarded a penalty and my papa was like, 'how can he do that for a final, that too, with just 5 minutes remaining?' andreas brehme didnt miss it. the following celebration was the only bright spot in the whole game for me.

but, what touched my football-immature, pair of seven year old eyes were the tears of the stocky man in blue with a 10 on his back. that was how i got hooked to soccer, hooked to maradona, hooked to argentina, hooked to the albicelestes.....

coronados de gloria vivamos

'there is a psychological technique which makes it possible to interpret dreams, and that on the application of this technique, every dream will reveal itself as a psychological structure, full of significance, and one which may be assigned to a specific place in the psychic activities of the waking state'

- the interpretation of dreams (die traumdeutung) - 1899

- sigmund freud (1856 - 1939)

its been a long time since i saw dreams. a longer time since i saw nightmares. nice dreams do help me sleep better. yesterday i saw a beautiful dream.

i dreamt about the night of july 11, 2010, a saturday. a total solar eclipse had passed over the pacific ocean. i was in johannesburg, among the 95, 000 seated in the soccer city stadium, formerly known as the first national bank stadium (fnb stadium). from the outside, the fnb stadium looked like an african melting pot, the cladding on the outside is a mosaic of fire and earthen colours with a ring of lights running around the bottom of the structure, simulating fire underneath the pot.

the fifa world cup had previously travelled across five continents in its 80 year-old journey. a world cup in antarctica is seemingly impossible. so the only continent left is africa and fifa has done it this time. it has chosen the land of nelson mandela - the republic of south africa - one of the 17 countries in the word known to be megadiverse - meaning it is a host to 20,000 different plants or 10% of all the known species of plants. it is also the home of barbecue, vineyards and kwaito singers.

read somewhere recently, mahatma gandhi had tried and failed to be a delegate of the natal football association during his stint as a barrister in south africa. if he did make it, the world would never have known about non-violence and hey ram. but then, the independence struggle for india would have been through the extremist methods of bhagat singh and subash chandra bose, which, i would have preferred...anyday...

anyways, back to my dream.... so i was inside the stadium with blue and yellow all around me. shakira had just finished performing her snake-dance. akon had the crowd on their feet. reminiscent of the african spirit was the performance by safri duo. i was witnessing a historic moment. the finals of the 2010 FIFA World Cup between two-time champions argentina and the five-time winners brazil. maradona and dunga, two players who had lifted the trophy in 1986 and 1994 respectively, had come with their warriors to repeat the record of franz beckenbauer.

the teams came out to the field and stood facing the crowd. i felt like a roman emperor giving the thumbs-up for the gladiators to fight it out. the himno nacional argentino and hino nacional brasileiro had me on my feet with the due respects that should be given to the national anthems. the claps were thunderous. the teams took the sides. my heart stopped its beat and... then burst out along-with the kickoff. mexican waves and the samba filled the stadium.

i vividly remember the goals. kaka scored the opening for brazil in the first half. in the second half, juan riquelme hit a scorching free-kick which fooled the brazilian custodian and kissed the nylon. towards the end, sergio aguero passed the ball to messi some ten metres inside the blue half. messi started a 60-metre, 10-second dash towards the brazilian goal, passing four outfield players – dani alves, kaka, ronaldinho and robinho. messi finished the move by dribbling round julio cesar to make the score 2–1 and lift the silvio gazzaniga designed trophy for the third time ranking them along-with germany at second slot.

i was out of this world. from where i come, we have a saying that dreams seen at dawn do come true. i saw this dream during sunrise.... it should come true.

nice dreams do help me sleep better.
i hope this dream comes again and again.
well, i can make a compromise for the scoreline (the more the merrier).
eventually, diego armando maradona should lift the gold.

sean eternos los laureles; may the laurels be eternal
que supimos conseguir; the ones we managed to win
coronados de gloria vivamos; let us live crowned in glory
o juremos con gloria morir; or let us swear - with it to die.

The Roots of Me

in 52 ad., st. thomas the apostle landed at muziris, near cochin on the malabar coast. he is the only apostle to have travelled outside the roman empire to preach the gospel. he also crossed the largest area, having covered persia and india. during his stay, he was successful in converting a large number of people into becoming 'nasraani' (followers of jesus of nazareth). like the other disciples, st. thomas appointed elders (edavaka mooppen - parish elder; malankara mooppen - church elder) at the places he preached.

during his stay at maalyankara in kodungalloor, st. thomas converted 32 brahmin families into nasraani's. among the 32 families was the pakalomattam family who resided in the paalayoor namboothiri illam. in the 4th century, the pakalomattam family established a church at kuruvilangaadu. since the pakalommatam family resided near the church and managed the activities of the church, the family also came to be known as palliveetukkar. many of the later-day metropolitans came from the pakalomattam family.

in the 7th century, many members of the pakalommatam family travelled south. they arrived at kudashannadu near panthalam and built the valiyaveetil house. at the turn of the 12th century, the head of the kudashannadu valiyaveetil house was the welathy landlord, ousep tharakan. he bought land at thumbaman to build a church but his untimely demise stalled the construction. his son, thomman tharakan seeked the help of the panthalam king and built the church at thumbaman. he also built the pallivaathilkkal house near the church. thomman tharakan later became a priest.

first generation of the aanjilimootil family (1648):
the eminent priest, thoma kathanar is considered to be of the 13th generation of the pallivaathilkkal family. he was blessed with three sons and a daughter. the three sons were pallivaathilkkal kochitti, pallivaathilkkal thoma and pallivaathilkkal joseph. while the younger sons stayed with their father at pallivaathilkkal house, the elder son, kochitti travelled across the achenkovil river, arrived at aanjilimootil in pallippad and stayed there. he formed the aanjilimootil family in 1648. his sons were:
aanjilimootil mathen tharakan
koipallil kiriyan tharakan
mattathileth itti tharakan

second generation of the aanjilimootil family:
koipallil kiriyan tharakan had two sons:
purackal kiriyan chacko
koipallil kiriyan kiriyan

third generation of the aanjilimootil family:
purackal kiriyan chacko had three sons:
purackal chacko kiriyan
chakaallil chacko philippose
chirayude vadakethil chacko koruthu

fourth generation of the aanjilimootil family:
purackal chacko kiriyan had five sons:
purackal chacko
kottapurathu philippose
vaazhapallil varghese
pandarathil kiriyan
kadakkal koshy

fifth generation of the aanjilimootil family:
pandarathil kiriyan had two sons:
pandarathil kurien kurien
pandarathil kurien chacko

sixth generation of the aanjilimootil family:
pandarathil kurien kurien had two sons:
pandarathil kurien kurien
pandarathil kurien chacko

seventh generation of the aanjilimootil family:
pandarathil kurien chacko married ammini of the kallathara family from karuvatta and had two sons:
pandarathil chacko kurien
jacob george

eighth generation of the aanjilimootil family:
pandarathil chacko kurien married jessy, daughter of p.c. george and annamma george from the pandialackal family from karthikapally and had two sons:
jerin jacob kurien - which happens to be me!!
justin george kurien


derivation of the name 'kurien':
kurien (also spelt kurian) is a common name amongst Christians in kerala. it is a derivative of 'kuriakose', which is derived from the Greek personal name 'kyriakos' meaning ‘of the Lord’ (equivalent to the western given name 'dominic'). In medieval times, it is believed to be a name given to a male child born on a Sunday.

aanjilimootil family and the marthoma church:
the metropolitan of the malankara church between 1825 to 1855 was most rev. cheppad philippose mar dionysius (marthoma XII), who hailed from the aanjilimootil family. his tenure as the metropolitan was one of turmoil. the incessant pressure from the anglican missionaries forced marthoma XII to severe relations with the missionaries. this led to the split of the malankara church into two:
1. some members joined with the anglican missionaries and formed the c.m.s. church.
2. the remaining members were divided into two factions:
a. bava kakshi - also knows as jacobite church
b. metran kakshi - which later became the mar thoma church.
so, it indirectly means - a member of the aanjilimootil family was indirectly the reason for the birth of the mar thoma church, of which i am today, a member.

the 'pandarathil' house:
'pandarathil' is a surname of malayalam-speaking namboothiri brahmins of south-west kerala, specifically, kerala. it was originally a honorific title conferred on a few aristocratic families by the travancore maharajah in recognition of their special services as vassals of the ruling monarch. those who bore this title are on the same social status as the namboothiris, bhattathiris etc. though some use it to claim superiority. all of them were large land-owners and rulers of the nearby lands (naaduvaazhikkal).
'pandarathil' is a derivative of the word 'bhandaaram' meaning treasury or warehouse. the bhandarams, other than storing the essentials for the king, also conducted the kalari ashrams and provided the best kshatriya warriors to the travancore maharajah.
history also records that the rani of venad, aswathi thriunal umayamma (known as umayamma rani of the kulashekara dynasty), the regent of venad (travancore) from 1677 to 1684, adopted two boys from the pandarathil family - raman koyil pandarathil and kochu raman unni pandarathil, as successors for the throne of travancore.

so, my roots are the paalayoor namboothiri family of kodungallor which branched off to the aanjilimootil family founded 360 years ago, of which i am the eighth generation heir.....

MJ - The King of Pop

at 0630 qatar time on friday (june 26, 2008), i was shocked when i read the sms from my younger brother, justin which read: michael jackson died of cardiac arrest.

sometime in 1995-96, i joined for a public speaking and personality development course 'born to excel' conducted by the eminent entrepreneur prof. c.f. joseph. it was held at the indian cultural centre every evening. it allowed me to meet a lot of prople and get over stage-fright. for the finale to be held at hotel ramada, all the students were supposed to speak out on a subject. another program on the schedule was for all of us to stand together on the stage and sing a song, for which we practiced everyday. the song selected was 'heal the world' by the king of pop, michael joseph jackson (dont know whether he indeed converted to islam in 2008 taking up 'mikaeel'.., whatever, what's in a name).

mj, for me, was an icon who revolutionised music by producing uncompromised compositions. he pushed the milestone of pop music to unbelievable heights through the 80's and 90's. the energy, the perfection, the vision...oh hell... it was unbelievable.

he was born in indiana in 1958 to a steel mill employee who often performed for a R&B band. to teach his children not to leave their windows open while they slept, joseph walter jackson scared the shit out of them by wearing a fright mask and screaming and shouting at them while they were sleeping. this incident had scarred the young michael for life. he started at the age of 11 with the the jackson 5 in 1969 with a mop of bush hair. he went solo in 1971.

while performing a complex dance step, he broke his nose and the subsequent blotched rhinoplasty lead to breathing difficulties throughout his life.

1979 saw the release of off the wall which reached 3 on billboard 200. his second album, thriller, released in 1982, stayed on the top 10 of the billboard 200 for 80 weeks. the album turned from being a leisure item to being a household necessity thereby becoming the highest selling album of all-time. thriller ushered the mtv era.

pyrotechnics accidently set his hair on fire leading to second degree burns while he was perfroming a pepsi cola commercial. he started to become self-conscious about his appearance. prez reagan awarded him for his charity works against alcohol and drug abuse.

an image to promote his sci-fi flick captain eo made tabloids to scream that he slept in an oxygen chamber to slow the aging process. reports of his eccentricities were that he slept with a pet chimpanzee that shared his toilet and cleaned his bedroom; that he had bought the bones of the elephant man - these helped him in earning the name 'wacko jacko'. he was diagnosed with vitilgo and lupus making him sensitive to sunlight. the treatments lightened his skin tone. his periods of weight loss became a recurring problem. bad released in 1987 with five tracks reaching number one on billboard hot 100, whivh was a record.

his autobiography moonwalk was released in 1988 which was also the name of a movie which he starred in with joe pesci. he bought the 2, 700 acre land at California for $17 million and named it 'neverland ranch'. when elizabeth taylor handed him the 'artist of the decade' in 1989, she nicknamed him 'king of pop' which i truly belive in. then came dangerous in 1991 which had 'heal the world' - the song that made me a mj fan. he did his best for underprivilged children and hiv/aids victims through his charity organizations.

1995 saw the release of the double album history: past, present and future that became the best-selling multiple-disc album of all-time. he released blood on the dance floor in 1997. he was listed by guinness world records for his support of 39 charities, the highest by an entertainer. 2001 saw the release of invincible.

thorughout his career, he was awarded 19 grammy awards and was inducted twice into the Rock and Roll hall of Fame.

this is the king of pop that i know. the rest of the stories are about him are...well... crap.

my favourites have been - heal the world, they dont care about us, wanna be startin something, billie jean, beat it, cry, we are the world, liberian girl, black or white.

one of my classmates at heart animation was a good frined named stephen... a hard-core mj fan. he did the moonwalk to perfection. i even remember how he, unbashedly performed the crotch grab in front of our class and how we boys howled while the girls shrieked out. stephen had the vintage dont-mess-with-me look on his face, the black jeans, white shirt and even a shiny belt... and of course the break dance to the dot.

life is short.
but, artists and their creations live forever.
mj, i love you for your music, regardless of all the controversies.
he is not to be remembered for the molestation charges.
he is not to be remembered for his freaky life or eccentricities.
he is not to be remembered for... damn... for a lot of other things...
instead...
he is to be remembered for the powerhouse entertainer that he was, is and will continue to be.

A Moment in Time

i had made a costly purchase on March 02, 2009. to capture the moments of the time-space that i am in, i bought a nikon D90 DSLR prosumer camera. the toy along-with a lowepro bag and an 8gb memory card cost me QRS 7, 100 (approx. US $ 2, 366)

my papa managed a studio for nearly two decades. venus studio was one of the premier ones of the time. we had a lot of american and european customers who found great happiness in taking lots pf pictures which defined their religious and socio-cultural activities like baptism, first communion, family get-togethers, weddings, picnics, travels....it was the era of photo films and dark-room creativity. it was costly to produce the prints and photography was considered an art. the studio was situated at a prime spot, on salwa road leading to the golden chrome window-shaded hotel ramada. papa, amma, me and my younger bro stayed behind the studio amidst a lot of greenery with a vine creeper taking centrestage.

babu uncle was our photographer. his studio had curtains of red, green and blue. there was also a fog-filled background which encouraged cutomers to snap a family photo. a dressing room with make-up props made people to puff up their faces with powder and then it was upto babu uncle to advice them how halloween-ish they would look once the refelectors snap. across the studio was a wall depicting some of the best photos taken by the crew. there were also some sfx photos like children in a champagne glass, inside a blooming sunflower and so on.

the room that always entrigued me was the dark-room. the room where the birth of a photo takes place. the smell of photo filters, negatives, the chemicals, the machines... are still fresh in me.

all those years, i was interested in the mechanics that took place after a snap was taken. i was never interested in the art that went behind the creation of the image.

a chance to see an exhibition of rain photographs taken by victor george, the resident photographer of malayala manorama bought a change. i was able to see the passion behind the art. that is when i started to frequent photo exhibitions. i took out the photographs that papa had taken and started to admire them. the eye-capturing snaps that came in the dailies inspired me to take up the art as a hobby.

i surfed the net like a man on a mission. read all i could about aperture, shutter speed, ISO, contrast, exposure, composition etc and etc. finally i bought a nikon D90.

Love For Movies

one of my earliest recollection is that of a bearded man with a straw hat. he is on a horse-cart with a bunch of children. the hooves of the horse are deafening as it plods across the stone-cobbled streets. with each turn of the wooden wheel, the man is more excited; the horse increases its speed and the children keep up the tempo.

i carried this image with me for a long time. over the years i became sure it was a movie scene because there was no possibility that i could be one of the children on the cart nor of me starting to see dreams at the age of three or four.

finally i came to realise that it was a malayalam (the famous palindromic longest-word language of God's Own Country) movie released in 1986. i had sat on my amma's lap and watched the movie. thats how the bug stung me.

even today, when i sat in the dark for two-three hours and unfurl a story in front of me, i continue to get stung. i laugh at their antics, i feel sad at their frustrations, i get excited when the gun bursts and i cringe when the dinosaur roars.