FLASH NEWS BULLETIN DAILY : October 2025

For every crucial life event, such as giving or receiving a daughter in marriage, choosing a family of good lineage and character is paramount. Recently, I had to urgently attend the wedding of the daughter of the son of my father's youngest brother (Munshi Kuttiyappa's son). The groom’s family was from Balaramapuram, the same place my nephew has resided for the past 30 years.

A life will turn miserable if marriage alliances are not made with families of good culture and good company. In marital bonds, the focus should not be on wealth, but on culture, high education, and knowledge. The journey to the wedding was long: about 16 km from my home to Thampanoor KSRTC Bus Stand, and another 15 km to Balaramapuram. I managed to catch a Superfast bus. My wife's mother passed away last year. On my way to Balaramapuram, I had already decided to visit the local mosque to offer Ziyarat (visiting the graves) for her and all other departed relatives resting there.

I follow this custom regularly at the Palayam Muslim Jama’ath Mosque, where I offer Ziyarat for my mother, father, elder brother, sister's husband, mother’s uncle, and about fifteen generations buried there. Ziyarat means visiting the resting place of the departed. There is a belief that the deceased await our visit outside the grave. After offering greetings (Salam), we simply recite ‘Al-Fatiha’, a small chapter from the Quran. Spending large sums on extravagant feasts like Biriyani or Ghee Rice in the name of the deceased is forbidden (Haram) and will surely be met with severe punishment from the Almighty. According to Islamic faith, Ziyarat serves several purposes:

It reminds us of death and the afterlife.
It makes us realize the transient nature of worldly life, prompting us to prepare for the Hereafter.
Visitors pray for forgiveness and peace for the departed souls.
It offers great mental peace and comfort to the living.

The Quran, in Surah Al-Mulk, states:

"Blessed is He in Whose Hand is the dominion; and He is over all things competent. [He] who created death and life to test you [as to] which of you is best in deed—and He is the Exalted in Might, the Forgiving." After the wedding and Ziyarat, I returned to the Thampanoor bus stand around 1 PM and quickly boarded a Kollam Superfast. Exhausted and sweaty, I took a window seat on the left, hoping for a strong breeze.

As the bus started moving, something round and bulky, like a heavy jackfruit, rubbed against my thigh before dropping onto the empty seat next to me. Irritated, I turned to look. It was a young, fair girl, not too heavy, wearing sky-blue jeans and a collared white full-sleeve shirt (sleeves rolled up to her watch). She was struggling to settle her three large brown bags. She looked up, sensing my irritation.

Suppressing my annoyance, I simply said I would get off at Kazhakoottam. She replied, “I’ll get off before that,” and added, “I’ve been traveling since 4 AM; it’s been a long day.” She seemed open to conversation.

“Where are you coming from?” I asked.

“Kothamangalam, and I’ll get down at Sreekaryam Chavadi Mukku.”

“Your father must be a rubber planter then?” I guessed.

“We have rubber, but my father is a Senior Manager at South Indian Bank in Ernakulam, and my mother is a Higher Secondary teacher at an aided school near home.”

The Superfast was speeding past Palayam.

“What are you studying?” I asked.

With enthusiasm, she replied, “I’m at CET (College of Engineering Trivandrum), staying in an outside hostel.”

“WOW,” I responded, genuinely surprised.

“Which year?” — “Second Year.”

“Which branch?” — “Industrial Engineering.” She asked if I had heard of her branch. “I know it,” I replied. “It's only available at CET.”

“Exactly,” she said. “That’s why I came all this way to study it.”

The bus passed Kesavadasapuram. She then introduced herself, sensing I hadn't asked her name: “My name is Mariyam, and I just got my voting rights.” I smiled and told her, "Nisar Ahammed, a native of Palayam. The name Mariyam is the only woman's name frequently mentioned in the Quran." She nodded in agreement.

As the bus reached Sreekaryam, she got up. "I'm getting off here. My full name is Mariyam Jacob Padinjarethethil... Hope to see you somewhere." She left. I thought to myself: What a cultured girl. Throughout the long conversation, she never once addressed me as 'Chetta', 'Saar', 'Uncle', or 'Appooppa'. And they shouldn't. These young minds are preparing for roles where they might interact with department heads or retired IAS officers for civil service exams and training. I got off at Kazhakoottam. It was past 2:30 PM, and the Sree Narayana Guru celebrations were underway, delaying the city buses. I immediately booked an Uber car. Moments later, a Swift Dzire arrived. I opened the door and leaned back into the cool comfort...Author: Palayam Nizar Ahamed Copyrights © all rights reserved.

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