Events

Whispers of a Quiet Morning at Soukhya Homes

I sat quietly in my bedroom at Soukhya. Each morning, a familiar view gently unfolds before me through the sliding glass door—a scene both calm and constant, offering a deep, grounding sense of peace. Just outside stands a young mango tree. Once a fragile sapling planted with cautious hope, it has matured into a healthy, promising presence. One of the reasons we chose this apartment was the quiet belief that this tiny tree would one day thrive. And it has. I find myself watching it closely, day after day. Not long ago, it bloomed. Now, clusters of fully formed mangoes hang from its branches—still, steady, and full of quiet purpose, as if aware of the slow, deliberate rhythm of growth. Beyond the tree, a row of tall bamboo plants sways gently in the morning breeze. They mark the edge of the grounds—graceful and slender, their green stalks moving in silent harmony with the wind. Above them, the sky stretches wide and open—clear, tranquil, and ever-changing, like a canvas softly brushed with pale hues and drifting light. The shuttle court nearby, once alive with voices and laughter, now lies still and undisturbed. Yet in these early hours, the hush is gently broken by birdsong—melodic and bright, as though nature itself is waking slowly, greeting the day with song. Along the court’s edges, flowering plants are in full bloom. On the gentle slope beyond, larger bushes are adorned with delicate white and pink blossoms. Their subtle fragrance drifts in on the breeze, carrying with it a quiet joy, fresh and effortless. These small, everyday moments shape the rhythm of my mornings. They don’t shout or demand attention, yet they speak clearly—of beauty, of stillness, of time unfolding at its own pace. Each day begins with this quiet symphony: simple, unhurried, and full of grace.

The Beautiful Rain at Soukhya Homes

Lately, every morning at Soukhya Homes begins with the gentle patter of rain. From the comfort of our bedrooms, we watch the world through misted windows—where the breeze turns cool and the landscape sparkles under fresh raindrops. The sun has become a shy visitor, rarely peeking through. Instead, the sky becomes a canvas—turning from deep grey to silver in moments, like a quiet play of moods above us. Soukhya is nestled in a serene, forested area, not far from the flowing Periyar River. This place, already full of nature’s beauty, becomes even more magical when it rains. The climate here is always shifting, and with every change comes a new kind of wonder. The rain breathes fresh life into the trees and makes the river rush forward with renewed strength. For many of us residents, the rain carries with it the fragrance of memory. It gently takes us back to our childhoods, to the homes we came from—scattered across towns and villages. When the raindrops fall, so do the veils of time. I remember making paper boats as a young boy, floating them down the little streams that formed in front of our house. My sisters would watch with wide eyes, always wanting to join in, sometimes adding their own tiny boats to the water. It was a simple joy, but one that lives vividly in the heart. Here at Soukhya, watching the rain is more than just a passing moment—it’s a connection to the past, to each other, and to the earth itself. We sit quietly, sipping our tea, and let the stories rise with the mist. The rain becomes a companion, soft and familiar. Indeed, the rains at Soukhya are not just beautiful—they are deeply comforting. They awaken old memories, and in doing so, make new ones too.

In Loving Memory of Mrs. Mary Poulose

Two days ago, we received the sad news of the passing of Mrs. Mary Poulose, beloved wife of our Director, Mr. K. C. Poulose. Today marks the final ceremony in her memory. I had seen Mrs. Mary on a few occasions here at Soukhya—during the birthday celebration of Mr. Poulose, and again at the grand celebration of their second daughter’s birthday. Surrounded by family, friends, and fellow residents, she carried herself with grace and quiet joy, actively participating in the moments that brought everyone together. Her presence was gentle, and her smile, warm and charming. Whenever someone familiar leaves us forever, it leaves a silent ache. That feeling—of familiar faces slowly fading away—reminds us of the fragile, fleeting nature of life. Yet, this too is part of the natural order. No one is beyond it. Mrs. Mary was a quiet soul, and though time may soften her memory, for those who knew her, she leaves behind a lasting impression—a memory of warmth, dignity, and grace. May she rest in peace.

By the Pond at Soukhya Homes

One morning, over a quiet breakfast, one of our esteemed directors casually mentioned his wish to write a few lines about the fish pond here at Soukhya Homes. A man of many accomplishments, he has spent his life as an academician, engineer, and dedicated teacher. In retirement, he has discovered renewed joy in cultivating the earth—an interest that has blossomed into a deep and rewarding passion. His knowledge of plants and trees is both scientific and soulful. He can identify every fruit tree by the shape of its leaves, the season it blooms, and the fragrance of its flowers. Much of the lush greenery we enjoy today—mango, jackfruit, guava, dragon fruit, and many others—owes its presence to his vision and tireless work. These trees now offer their fruits season after season, quietly celebrating his care and commitment. Among his many contributions,one that stands out with equal pride is his stewardship of our fish pond. But this pond is far more than a body of water. It is a space filled with calm, color, and quiet joy. Tended with the same attentiveness he gives to his trees, the pond is home to several rare and vibrant varieties of fish graceful in motion, quick to grow, and dazzling in color. He personally feeds them and oversees their care whenever he is at Soukhya. For him, this is no mere pastime—it is a fulfilling responsibility and a source of deep satisfaction. At one end of the pond stands a charming circular pavilion—a small mandapam where a few of us often gather. When I first moved in, its roof was made of woven coconut leaves, rustling softly in the breeze and casting playful shadows over the water. Later, it was upgraded with a sturdy metal-sheet roof. Today, the mandapam remains a beloved retreat—a place to watch the fish glide below, to converse, to reflect, or simply to enjoy the stillness of the moment. To us residents, the pond is far more than a scenic corner of our campus. It is a place of shared stories, tender memories, and the gentle rhythm of peaceful living. And to our director, it is yet another canvas where his love for nature and quiet stewardship finds graceful expression—a living testament to a life still deeply rooted in purpose and care.

Between Two Horizons