Childhood- Tell it, a tale.

“Oru komban videshathu pokum” (one son will go abroad), Laadaguru, the wandering tribal doctor was brimming with expectation, when he said this looking at my mother. He was thinking about a handsome reward by using his skills of reading the face to predict future.

My mother, a devout catholic would have nothing of it. She asked me to go to her room and get a ten rupee note to send the visitor away.

I was another one brimming with plans, when the prediction was made. And naturally, I was the most disappointed when the predictions were terminated that abruptly.

Karumban‘ (blackie), the name my brothers coined for me had not in anyway diminished my wonderful gift of daydreaming. I was karumban not because I was that dark, but my siblings were of fair complexion.

‘I am that komban’ my imagination started working, and my hand went to my face to feel the non existent moustache. For me a komban is a muscled stud of a man with thick moustache.

First things first, and moustache would take some years, but muscles could be worked on.

There started my fitness quest, and self training for the chiseled muscles and even a six pack.

To be that komban to make the laadaguru prediction, happen.

Childhood- Tell it, a tale.