As people across the world in Christian faith pray on the holy day of Good Friday and get ready to rejoice on his resurrection on Easter day, how many of us have the courage to see ourselves to be the one who is responsible for the nails in his hands, the stripes in his flesh.

I sin; and my sins are responsible for killing Jesus. I continue to sin and I kill him every single day.

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Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds, thus had Albert Einstein said once. We may perhaps not fully understand what that meant, but still we all love to be spirited and when its weekend, our spirits are generally quite high.

Let us try to understand how they get these spirits inside those bottles for us to find them as Jinns and as we have them, we get the feeling of having our wishes fulfilled.

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Being a Mallu during my school days was considered a privilege. In spite of the heavily accented clan that we were, all puns on our intonation and our duskier membrane were relegated to backseat, the moment we came dressed in those satin knickers when even the noble class could afford only polyester; or when we sported that enviable Casio digital watch; or when we had at least one Hero fountain pen in our pencil box.

Certainly not the most affluent community, when compared to the Gujaratis and the Marvaris, what made Malayalis still stand apart rubbing shoulders with the prosperous was that every household from the pea-shaped state that we belonged to, had an Indian Diaspora.

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